Okay, Dave is right—letting the fat white girl found the Civil Rights Movement? That’s a little offensive. And letting Corny Collins, hot though his white ass may be, singlehandedly integrate American television? Just as offensive.

But what I kept wondering while I watched Hairspray tonight… was… no cameo for Ricki Lake? What’s with that?

So some woman kissed a Cy Twombly painting on display in France, left a red lipstick stain, and is facing prosecution:

“A red stain remained on the canvas… This red stain is testimony to this moment, to the power of art.”

Speaking to French news agency AFP, she said the artist had “left this white” for her.

Crazy narcissistic mademoiselle, oui?

Oui.

But a good chance to bone up on our Twombly, whose last name is an anagram for nothing at all. Which I find suspicious. Also, his father was a pitcher for the Chicago White Sox. Also, he was born in Lexington, Virginia, which was also the birthplace of Sam Houston, the only person ever to be governor of two states (Tennessee and Texas) and who, in this picture, looks manly but, in this picture, looks like a goof.

Also, Holland Cutter of the New York Times wrote that Twombly’s “wiry, vernacular anti-aesthetic has become a patrician exercise in a kind of horticultural expression.” I’m with him up until the “horticultural” part. Hey Holland! You know what his wiry anti-aesthetic has actually become? Kandinski + meth.

Oui?

Oui.

There’s an amendment in Congress that would prevent the Feds from undermining state medical marijuana laws—stopping things like raids on medical marijuana patients. (If only states—like Washington state—would follow their own medical marijuana laws.)

Anyway, on the Presidential campaign trail: Hillary Clinton has pledged, if President, to stop the raids. Barack Obama has not.

It is my dubious and depressing duty to inform you that she of the filthy, filthy washcloth and ever-oogy Christyness, Our Teary Lady of Mudslide Mascarra, the weepy PTL Queen-cum-gay-loving Kabuki princess, Tammy Faye, has finally gone to meet her maker, back to where she came from, God save her soul. She was 200,000 years old.

Lest we forget…

And let’s all pray that a moist towlette awaits her in heaven…a moist towlette called JESUS! Shalom!

I’ll be on 710 KIRO radio at 7pm Saturday for our weekly rundown of what we’ve got in the news section.

This week’s section—about the master bike plan and the mayor’s cave to a Fremont power broker; an outrageous pot bust; developer loopholes; and Jay Inslee’s faulty webcasting bill —already generated a lot of comments on Slog.

Let’s continue the discussion on the radio.

We know that the war in Iraq is in a very bad state, but when disturbing, anti-war images like this can rise all the way to the top of national TV, it means the situation is even worse than we think. And remember, this report was produced by an embedded reporter, not one working for Al Jazeera. What a fucking mess.

In the past, it may have been tacky to report on a politician’s religion. But the GOP—which pushes moral values and faith-based initiatives and intelligent design and abstinence-only education and limits on abortion rights— has made the “courage” to wear one’s religion on one’s sleeve a badge of honor in our decadent, secular society.

And so—in the wake of GOP Rep. Dave Reichert’s vote for Rep. Mike Pence’s (R-IN) amendment this week (which would have denied Title X family planning money to Planned Parenthood)—I think it’s appropriate to bring up Reichert’s religion.

Reichert is a Missouri Synod Lutheran, a conservative branch that believes in a literal interpretation of the bible, that women cannot be pastors, and that creationism should be taught in their K-12 schools and universities.

‘Big Fuckin’ Hands’ (ART) Ellen Forney’s black-and-white hands on red backgrounds are big and fucking. The largest paintings are shorthand for sex acts (a fist gripping an index finger); the smaller ones are individual portraits of friends’ hands miming actual sexual acts. What a difference there is between the broad comedic shorthand and the surprisingly quiet, intimate gestures. We stand in the gap, a little embarrassed, a little turned on. (Liberty, 517 15th Ave E, 323-9898. 4 pm—2 am, free, 21+.) JEN GRAVES

More Stranger Suggests for this week.

by Rebecca Tapscott

It’s raining cats and dogs: The National Weather Service predicts 1 to 2 inches of rain in the Seattle area, and the possibility of local rivers flooding.

Voter fraud in King County: Officials investigate possible voter fraud in 2006 election.

Liebmanville: Henry Liebman now owns 40 acres of Seattle’s Sodo neighborhood, making city officials, Port commissioners and labor leaders uneasy.

Local news consumed by violent crime: Seattle PI website (and the Seattle Times, just not linked here) reports on rape, police chases, murder, and kidnapping.

Schmaneva Convention: Bush approves new torture methods, which some believe violate the Geneva Convention.

A New Cash Crop: Conservative, Republican farmers in North Dakota lobby to legalize growing hemp—not for moral reasons, but because it could make them rich.

India elects president: Pratibha Patil, the country’s first female president, was elected this morning by 65.82% of votes cast by national lawmakers and state legislators.

Unrest within: Pakistan’s supreme court ruled that the President’s suspension of the chief justice earlier this year was illegal—raising questions about his ability to continue the presidency.

North Korea maintains nukes: Negotiations to disarm North Korea failed this week. Negotiators plan to resume talks in September.

Russian government censors itself: Russia’s foreign minister retracts his US-critical article, claiming the editors of Foreign Affairs magazine changed his writing to the point of censorship. The magazine denies his claim.

Prominent Republican arrested for patronizing prostitutes:

Coy Privette, a retired Baptist pastor, conservative lawmaker and outspoken advocate for Christian groups, was charged Thursday with paying a prostitute for sex acts. The 74-year-old Cabarrus County commissioner was arrested at his home in Kannapolis early Thursday….

Privette, a prominent Republican with a 30-year career, is one of the state’s most vocal opponents against alcohol sales and legal gambling. He also serves on the State Baptist Convention of North Carolina and as president of the Christian Action League of North Carolina.

I’m thinking the Christian Action League of North Carolina opposes fornication, gay marriage, abortion rights…

And, hey, how come Sen. Vitter hasn’t been arrested? Did they legalize prostitution in DC without telling anybody? I mean, anybody besides Sen. Vitter?

Jeff Kirby makes a good point about taffy, but I think the best part of Brendan Kiley’s Seattle Center story is where he advocates for a brutal beating/rape as just the thing to get people excited about the Seattle Center:

New York’s Conservancy formed in 1980, but only got off the ground years later when muggings, vandalism, and the Central Park jogger—who was raped and beaten almost to death—became symbols for a city gone feral, and galvanized citizens to take charge where government failed. Until we have a Seattle Center jogger, the Seattle Center cause will be one of irritation, not urgency.

For shame, Brendan Kiley. For shame.

Discussed today, at length, in The Washington Post. Money, er, quote:

There was the sense that you were catching a surreptitious glimpse at something private. You were intruding — being a voyeur. Showing cleavage is a request to be engaged in a particular way. It doesn’t necessarily mean that a woman is asking to be objectified, but it does suggest a certain confidence and physical ease. It means that a woman is content being perceived as a sexual person in addition to being seen as someone who is intelligent, authoritative, witty and whatever else might define her personality. It also means that she feels that all those other characteristics are so apparent and undeniable, that they will not be overshadowed.

To display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d’oeuvres is a provocation. It requires that a woman be utterly at ease in her skin, coolly confident about her appearance, unflinching about her sense of style. Any hint of ambivalence makes everyone uncomfortable. And in matters of style, Clinton is as noncommittal as ever.

For the Love of Christ: How many medical marijuana stories can one human post on a single blog? Not enough, apparently. The issue is a big deal this week for presidential candidates, who – for the first time ever – are forced to take a position to oppose or maintain controversial drug policies. Celebstoner has the lowdown on the showdown, beginning with Mrs. Didn’t Inhale.

During a visit to Manchester, New Hampshire on July 13, Len Epstein of Granite Staters for Medical Marijuana told the senator and presidential candidate: “Twelve states allow medical marijuana, but the Bush administrations continues to raid patients.”

Clinton replied: “Yes, I know. It’s terrible.”

“Would you stop the federal raids?” Epstein asked.

“Yes, I will,” she responded firmly.

Here’s Obama’s wishy-washier take:

“I don’t think that should be a top priority of us, raiding people who are using … medical marijuana. With all the things we’ve got to worry about, and our Justice Department should be doing, that probably shouldn’t be a high priority.”

And the elephants in the room: John McCain made his diagnosis on July 14.

“I don’t think marijuana is healthy,” the senator stated. “I don’t think it is good for people and there is a large body of medical opinion that says there is plenty of other medications that are more effective and better and less damaging to one’s health to use to relieve pain.”

That’s basically the official position among conservative candidates. Here’s America’s mayor…

“You can accomplish everything you want to accomplish with things other than marijuana, probably better. There are pain medications much superior to marijuana,” he said.

Giuliani’s more full of shit than Paul Bunyan’s colostomy bag. Rudy’s clearly rooting for his former employer, Purdue Pharma, makers of OxyContin. But he is also intentionally redirecting the debate to focus on painkillers; marijuana’s greatest medical marvel is the ability to quickly curb nausea. Pills that you swallow and throw up again, not so much.

Why so chatty about the wheelchair weed?

Reps. Dana Rohrabacher (R-Huntington Beach) and Maurice D. Hinchey (D-N.Y.) are sponsoring an amendment that would kill funding for federal efforts to preempt state medical marijuana initiatives… it would at least halt the DEA’s efforts to thwart the will of voters and legislatures in 12 states.

Cold Trail: New meth tracking system dispatches officers to drive in circles around parking lots where meth manufacturing suspects purchased Sudafed.

Crony Express: Drug Czar’s minions sent to campaign for vulnerable Republicans.

Up in Smoke? UK considers terminating relaxed pot laws.

Up in Price: New pharmaceuticals less effective than old, generic drugs.

Up in Arms: FDA wants to regulate cigarette advertising.

Bell Bottom Bliss, pt 3: Pilot’s “Magic.”

Setlist: Megan Seling and Ari Spool on Priests & Paramedics, the Hungry Pines, and Branden Daniel & Everybody Gets Laid.

Weirdo Turbo Flow: Block Party Band of the Day: Aesop Rock.

Beyond the Laser Dome: Trent Moorman on Voyager One.

It’s Time to Light the Lights: Escort’s “All Through the Night.”

Bummer: Howlin Rain Cancels, but Show Goes on with Citay, Whalebones, and Bison.

Lean Wit It: Kelly O’s New Low-Impact Workout.

posted by Jeff Kirby

It’s probably not wise that I speak out against a Stranger writer in his own forum, but his brazen words in this week’s paper have left me little choice. Brendan Kiley’s article about the Seattle Center is irresponsible journalism at its worst; the kind of near-sighted, poorly researched slander that should cost a journalist his job in a fair and just world. He left out the single most important aspect of the story, the center of Seattle Center: this is where one goes to get good taffy. The Center house may be built like an armory, and it may have had maggots fall from the ceiling at one point, but god damn it if it isn’t the only place I know around here where a man can get some fresh, flavorful taffy. Kiley advocates for “plan four,” in which it is suggested the Center House “build a fancy-ish restaurant up top and some cheaper cafes on the bottom, mak[ing] the whole thing less a food court and more a place you’d want to be.” The Center House is better than a “food court,” Mr. Kiley. You can’t get freshly pulled taffy at the goddamn mall, now can you? And what do you suggest we build in its place? A “cheap café”? I don’t want a cheap café; I want to see my taffy being made in front of my eyes, like Benihana for people who still have their soul. But you, like the people in charge of plotting the destruction of this city treasure, obviously just don’t get it. For shame, Brendan Kiley. For shame.

Hello, everyone. I am desperately sorry for the light slogging lately, but I’ve been quite gone on a wee little trip. I regret to have been away. And God forgive me, I don’t know why I agreed to go away, in the way I went away, in the first place. I can’t understand what the fuck came over me. I clearly wasn’t in my right mind. I’ll probably regret it forever. And ever. And ever.

My “boyfriend” who is supposed to “love me” or something (ha!) decided a few weeks ago that it would be a novel notion to pursue an adventurous excursion via (Shudder! Gasp!) the goddamnmotherfucking BUS. He thought a bus trip would be “fun”. Fun!

Indeed, I said the goddamnmotherfucking BUS, by which I mean GREYHOUND, by which I mean HELL on EARTH on WHEELS. I can barely bring myself to talk about it. My nervous system hasn’t even begun to digest the experience, and frankly, it may never fully do so. And therefore, for the sake of the shreds of my remaining mental health and faith in mankind, I’m compelled to vomit some of the story up here for you. I’m sorry. I have no choice. It’s a compulsion. It’s necessary. I can’t stop myself. I have to heal, somehow.

Lucky, lucky you.

But (and you’ll thank me later!) I have kindly boiled the entire 14-hour-long-sitting-bolt-upright-in-a-rolling-metal-death-tube-full-of-convicts-methheads-and-sociopaths-that-smells-like-an-alcoholic-cat’s-ass experience down to a few simple bullet points, rather than provide the world with an exhaustive and detailed point-by-point report. This is for your own good. Trust me.

However! Please note! A quick little disclaimer, to avoid any confusion before we begin: I do not travel via Greyhound, damn you, I’ve never done so before, and you can bet your sweet fanny’s ass that the temporary lapse in judgment that compelled me to do so will never, by God, NEVER, happen again. It was a dreadful mistake. A one-time-thing. I may never be the same. Somebody hold me. I beg you.

Also! Before we go off to the simple bullet-pointed list of What I Learned on Sitting Up for 14 Hours on a Fucking Cat’s-Ass-Stanking Greyhound Bus, I have to get this off my chest, and I want to get it just right before my mind successfully represses it forever…

“I just want to say that it’s only by the grace of God Almighty that anyone gets anywhere, and it’s the men and women fighting for this country that’s the only thing holding this nation together.”

Yes, that’s how it went: a little rambling and disjoionted 3-AM public service announcement from our lunatic Greyhound driver forced upon his captive bus-bound audience. Amen and hallelujah!

Fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

Okay, here we go:

9 Terrible Things I Learned On a Goddamnmotherfucking Greyhound Bus

1) Everyone who has ever been to prison is compelled by forces beyond our understanding to tell everyone else all about it, all the time, at a volume of twenty million decibels.

2) Everyone on Greyhound has been to prison.

3) There is no such thing as quiet crazy.

4) It is completely appropriate, even expected, to scream things at the driver like, “It’s about fucking time!” and even more appropriate for the driver to respond, “Fuck you, too!” and then rant about Jesus.

5) The words “nigger” and “fag” are alive and well and thriving without a trace of irony.

6) You could be Osama Bin Laden, carrying a nuclear bomb up your ass and a dead hooker under each arm and nobody’s going to check your ID.

7) There is such a thing as The White Trash Gene.

8) For some, relish is a meal.

9) There is no hope for mankind. Not. A. Shred.

Well, whatever. It’s still marginally better than flying, I guess.

This was on my voicemail a few days ago. Read it aloud in your best “old prospector” voice. That’s what it sounded like.

“Hi I was wondering if you guys had heard about Pam Roach’s son getting thrown in jail again for drugs. None of the websites for KIRO, KOMO, any of ‘em have anything about it. I contacted all of ‘em, they said, ‘well yeah, we didn’t have room for it.’ And then I tell ‘em what chicken shit pieces they’re running about lost dogs and stuff and they get defensive and eventually hang up on me.”

Indeed, Pam Roach’s son was arrested again.

Thanks for the tip, you crazy old prospector.

What Islam and Christianity have in common is narrative ressentiment toward their parent, Judaism. At one point, The New Testament attempted a complete break from its parent book, the Bible. But what would it be without the great stories of Noah, Abraham, and Job—the greatest story ever told? Jesus walking on water was nothing compared to Moses parting the sea. Instead of a cut, it decide to turn the Bible into an amazing map (an amazing story) leading up to its own realization. The New Testament is a coda, a tail. This is why it’s saturated by the end of Jesus, his death.

As for Islam, it practically kidnapped Abraham and took him to Mecca. A gap in the Bible—what happened to Hagar and Ismael, Abraham’s lover and son?—was enough to build a new narrative passage to the oasis of Islam. In essence it was a narrative theft. And the Jews of Medina didn’t hide this judgment of Muhammad’s scheme. They rejected him on the spot (“Give us back our story! You thief you!”). That rejection politicized what would become Islam.

But what do you do if all the great stories have been told—and only a great story can establish a religion, a state, a race? You take, borrow, steal, and become resentful.

My correct position on the death of narratives is accurately expressed by the poem “La Cloche fêlée”:

It is bitter and sweet, during winter nights,
To listen, beside the throbbing, smoking fife,
To distant memories slowly ascending
In the sound of the chimes chanting through the fog.

Happy is the bell with the vigorous throat
Which, despite old age, watchful and healthy,
Faithfully sends out its religious cry,
Like an old soldier sentinel under the tent!

My soul is cracked, and when in its boredom
It wishes to fill the cold air of the night with its songs,
Often it happens that its feeble voice

Seems like the thick death-rattle of one wounded, forgotten
By the edge of a lake of blood, under a great pile of the dead,
And who dies, without moving, after enormous efforts. (Translation: a mix of Wallace Fowlie and Geoffrey Wagner)

I enjoy the hearty and holy (and wholly naive) narrative “which sends out its religious cry, like an old soldier sentinel under the tent!” But I cant see this narrative as anything than what it is: as dead as Homer. And as a writer (and filmmaker), I can only say this to myself, in all honesty: “moi, mon âme est fêlée.” My soul/bell is cracked.

By the middle of the 19th century, the greatest poet of that century (Whitman’s negative), Baudelaire knew that the cracked bell would be the condition of the writer, the artists, the drinker—his/her soul is not only cracked for good but also trying to move while under the pile of the dead (Aescylus, Christopher Marlowe, John Lyly, John Webster, Spinoza, Nietzche, Hegel, Marx, Dickens, Ruskin, Walter Pater, Joyce, Zora Neal Hurston, Gogol, Richard Wright, Nabokov, Ellison, Bely, Sontag, Sologub, Borges—and all the rest of my dead).

To get excited over a story is to get excited by a voice coming out of a tomb.

The Washington State Liquor Control Board has rejected the city’s request to summarily suspend the liquor license of Belltown’s Tabella Restaurant & Lounge.

In a statement, the liquor board said, “Investigators concluded that there were no grounds for an emergency suspension,” under the requirements of state law.

Ouch.

What will Nickels do, now that his nightlife witch hunt appears to have come to a screeching halt?

Via Seattle Times

Briefly, the news: As noted by Adam Sekuler at Northwest Film Forum’s Hot Splice, two filmmakers with local ties made it into Filmmaker Magazine’s annual roundup of fresh talent. Congrats to Adam Blubaugh and Calvin Reeder (who’s mostly in LA now, but still counts).

You can see Calvin act in his buddy Brady Hall’s June & July, which appears in the web version of On Screen. (If you’re clutching a print edition, flip back to Film Shorts.) Also in the On Screen lineup: the pointless film-adaptation-of-the-musical-adaptation-of-the-superior-film Hairspray (condemned by veritable bad-movie connoisseur David Schmader), the SIFF biopic Goya’s Ghosts (Jen Graves says Javier Bardem’s great, but, um, he doesn’t play the artist), the eccentric-agrarian doc The Real Dirt on Farmer John (Andrew Wright admits it wanders, but apparently it’s still worthwhile), and Lady Chatterley, a refined French take on D.H. Lawrence’s novel (Jon Frosch says it’s better the second time around).

And in extra-special web extras this week, we have Lindy West taking down I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry.

Film Shorts is located at Get Out. This week, you’ll find reviews of Half Moon, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, Cashback, and many more. And with that, I’m off to a vacation in the woods where no movies can find me. See Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday for me!

jetBlue donated a few tickets to YearlyKos. Bill O’Reilly had a stroke. And now, well, so much for jetBlue.

FOX News’ Bill O’Reilly and right-wing blogger Michelle Malkin complained that jetBlue was a corporate sponsor of the YearlyKos blogger conference and had offered a few free tickets for conference attendees (not exactly a huge commitment, and something companies do for conferences of all political stripes). O’Reilly and Malkin claimed that this was akin to jetBlue supporting people who endorse murder and assassination and ripping the heads off little bunnies.

jetBlue, mind you, advertises on FOX (according to Markos), shows FOX News on its flights, and its CEO has given $2100 to far-right GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney. But please just ignore all of that. Because jetBlue has now, finally, shown some attention to the left as well, O’Reilly and Malkin decided that jetBlue must be destroyed.

So what did jetBlue do in response? Did they say “hey, what do you mean we’re catering to the left, we’ve been showing FOX News on our flights forever?” Did they say “would you like our CEO to stop donating to right-wing politicians in order to show that he doesn’t take sides in politics?” Did they say “if we pull our sponsorship of YearlyKos should we then pull our sponsorship of FOX News shows too?

No, jetBlue responded by pulling their logo from the YearlyKos Web site sponsor list, sending the clear to signal to every company in America that you, we, are pariahs that no company should dare touch. That we are, in fact, just as O’Reilly and Malkin have claimed, akin to murderers and assassins.

Now jetBlue is calling DailyKos a “hateful” website. Says Kos…

I’m cancelling my JetBlue American Express card and will be looking at alternative options for my future travel. Too bad. Unfortunately, JetBlue just told me (and the rest of us) that they accept O’Reilly’s bullshit smears.

What’s really interesting about this whole affair is that the most aggressive pushback is coming from Hillary Clinton’s camp. JetBlue may have just exacerbated their PR problem, but at least we’re seeing that the days when Democrats would’ve followed suit are behind us.

Yesterday, I got an email from Toby Thaler —the Fremont Neighborhood Council’s land use chairman— about my article in this week’s Stranger, where I quoted Thaler about growing problems with bland townhome design in Fremont.

In my piece, I say:

Toby Thaler—the Fremont Neighborhood Council’s land-use chairman—says he’s happy to have more housing in the neighborhood, as long as it fits in with Fremont’s traditionally kooky aesthetic. “It’s not the density that’s a problem for us,” Thaler says. “We’d like development to be compatible with existing neighborhoods.

Toby took umbrage to my use of the word kooky, and sent me an email:

I appreciate your coverage of the problems of largely uncontrolled development in Seattle’s neighborhoods, including Fremont. While you accurately quoted me, you added your own adjective to my characterization of “…Fremont’s traditionally kooky aesthetic.” I did not say that. In fact, I get nauseous at the overuse of “whimsical” and “quirky” by real estate agents and other Fremont boosters.

“Kooky” may apply to the street life in downtown Fremont, but not to the sometimes artsy residential areas.
Toby Thaler
Fremont

Wait, isn’t “artsy” just an evasive way of saying kooky? Will in Seattle, Fnarf? Care to weigh in on this one?

More than half of all American Indians live in cities. And Seattle has one of the biggest concentrations of Urban Indians in America.

We got the National Urban Indian Health Institute. And the UW Indigenous Wellness Research Institute. And the Daybreak Star cultural center (art collection, Head Start school program, more), which

owes its existence to Bernie Whitebear and other Native Americans, who staged a generally successful self-styled “invasion” and occupation of the land in 1970 after most of the Fort Lawton military base was declared surplus by the U.S. Department of Defense.

This weekend is the annual pow wow at Daybreak Star in Discovery Park—with a salmon bake, fry bread (the official state bread of South Dakota), drumming and dancing, stuff to buy—which is part of the summer pow wow circuit.

The pow wow circuit is similar to a rodeo circuit, and entire families travel them from Memorial Day to Labor Day. People traveling the circuit consists of dancers, singers, gamblers, rodeo riders, announcers, and concessionaires. The circuit can be addictive…

And, quoth Noel Franklin from the United Indians of All Tribes Foundation, “It doesn’t get more Indie than Indians and right now Indian Country is HOT. The Seminole Tribe recently acquired Hard Rock Café.”

Check your pow wow etiquette here. From item number one: “Please don’t sit on someone’s blanket unless invited.”

From item number seven: “All persons not in regalia are asked that legs be covered before entering the dance arena.”

Good to know.

Check out Johnna Mink, “The Susan B. Anthony of pole dancing,” featured on last night’s Colbert Report:

Via DollyMix.

posted by Jeff Kirby

Tonight is the beginning of the end for children and childish adults across the world. The final installment of the Harry Potter book series goes on sale at midnight, and is expected to smash sales records. According to the Guardian, it’s also expected to smash children’s fragile emotions, exposing them to the grief that comes along with the death of imaginary literary friends (although they haven’t leaked who gets the axe).

Virtually every bookstore in Seattle is trying to get in on the wizard action, throwing Harry Potter parties with games, trivia, bands, and prizes. At first the plan was to compile a list of all the bookstores with events tonight, but as it turned out, all of them are, so the choice is yours where you want to spend Friday night wearing a pointy hat and holding a wand.

The Seattle Times reports that Sonics/Storm owner Clay Bennett wants to reopen negotiations with the city about the KeyArena lease.

I’m pretty much still against subsidizing the Sonics at the Key for reasons I reported when the issue was before the city in 2006:

An in-depth 2004 study by the Cato Institute found that, if anything, professional sports teams may actually hurt local economies. The study debunks industry claims that sports teams generate new consumer spending (they actually just suck up existing discretionary spending), and concludes, “the net economic impact [is] a reduction in real per-capita income over the entire metropolitan area.”

In addition to the economic specifics, there are also some ugly details about the city’s current arrangement with the Sonics that undermine the team’s case for a new handout—and bolster [council member Nick] Licata’s skepticism. The city just authorized and financed a $77 million upgrade to KeyArena in 1995. With debt service, the total bill stands at about $130 million. (The city would still be covering that debt, due by 2014, while taking on this new one.) The Sonics were supposed to cover the debt themselves, but because the Sonics are in the red, the city has been covering the difference to the tune of $2.2 million a year since 2000. (It spiked at $2.9 million last year.)

However, something has certainly changed since then. The Sonics got a big deal draft pick, Kevin Durant. Another thing that’s happened since then, though, is a citywide vote saying “No” to sports subsidies, resoundingly: 74-25.

We’ve been doing our city council candidate interviews this month and one “Yes or No” question we’ve been asking is: Should the city reconsider subsidizing the Sonics?

According to our notes, only three candidates have said “Yes.” Scott Feldman (it’s his platform centerpiece, actually); Bruce Harrell (in general, he stresses that he’s big on “building bridges and finding common ground”—which didn’t ring true because he struck me as a pretty ornery and stubborn guy); and John Manning (which contradicted the frustration he voiced in the interview about city leaders ignoring public votes on the baseball stadium and the monorail.)

This morning, Last Days was CC’ed on this letter from an eloquently aggrieved Metro rider. Enjoy.

Dear Metro Transit: Last night on the #49 bus headed to Capitol Hill from 4th and Pike, I sat down and immediately smelled feces. I got up but it wasn’t on the chair, nor under it. It was just lingering…somewhere. It was disgusting, the whole back of the bus reeked. Ahead of me were three homeless/street people all smelling of summer b.o. One of them brought out a $2000 digital camera/camcorder and talked about how he stole it from someone at Re-bar. They were loud, each of them took up two seats and everyone around me was just appalled that they didn’t even attempt to hide their stolen item. Of course, when they got off the bus near Broadway they didn’t pay, just made some excuse about losing their transfers or holes in their pockets. The day before, when a homeless man got off through the back door he left a syringe behind. I kicked it under a seat so no one would step on it. This morning, I boarded the #14 at Bellevue and Roy and sat in a seat with garbage at my feet and a dime bag with dust remnants of weed. Don’t these buses even get cleaned at night? My question is, why should I have to pay when I’m riding on buses that smell like shit with a bunch of smelly drug addicts and thieves? Do I really have to pay for that privilege? It should be free to anyone who dares.

Howlin Rain, Citay, Whalebones, Bison (MUSIC) West Coast psychedelic rock is back—all reverb, flutes, and volume. Here’s a major dose: From the Bay Area come the eight-piece Citay—think acoustic Led Zeppelin—and Howlin Rain, a woozy, bluesy spin-off of metal masters Comets on Fire. Hometown shredders Whalebones just need more hair and amyl nitrate to actually become Steppenwolf, and BC’s Bison are as heavy as their namesake. This is easily the weekend’s best show. (Sunset Tavern, 5433 Ballard Ave, 784-4880. 9 pm, $8, 21+.) JONATHAN ZWICKEL

UPDATE: Howlin Rain has canceled due to a family emergency. Citay, Whalebones, and Bison will still play.

Sing Sing (PARTY) Sorry Jonathan, but this is the weekend’s best show: Sing Sing, Seattle’s reigning hipster dance party, is celebrating its first birthday with sets from French-Canadian electrofunkers Chromeo, Chicago party killers Flosstradamus, and resident jocks Fourcolorzack and Pretty Titty. While the DJs will drop jam after jam at breakneck pace, Chromeo is the highlight. The duo’s sophomore album, Fancy Footwork, is a perfect sequel to their neon-lit debut, full of lover-man lines and jheri-curled joints as suitable for breakdancing as for romancing. (War Room, 722 E Pike St, 328-7666. 9 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, 21+.) ERIC GRANDY

More Stranger Suggests for this week.

…which remains my all-time favorite sport, forensic artist Stephen Mancusi has posted his works depicting how Jackson might have aged without plastic surgery and all the rest of the shit he’s done to his head.

See the whole series here. (And thanks for the heads-up, Towleroad.)

This is now the king of all the YouTube versions of Michael Jackon’s greatest gift to humankind, Thriller. MJ in the age of globalization.

A high-ranking official at the Pentagon wants Hillary Clinton to stop all her talk about pulling out of Iraq. Clinton has some harsh words for him, and wants to talk to his boss, the secretary of defense.

The general consensus: A gift for the Clinton campaign.

The conspiracy theory: Republicans want to help Clinton get the Democratic nomination because they think she’s beatable in the general election.

President Bush is undergoing a routine colonoscopy tomorrow, which means Dick Cheney will be our president—officially, as opposed to shadowy—for the day.

From the American Prospect:

When is it against the law to curse on your own private property? When you’re the director of a woman’s health clinic in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and Operation Rescue protesters have invaded your parking lot, that’s when.

Update: More info here. (Thanks to commenter “Touring.”)

This one’s called The Genius.

Previously: The Cripple and The Biker.

The Plame Game: CIA leak lawsuit dismissed.

Meltdown: US sub-prime lending market could see $100 billion in
losses.

Bad Gas: FEMA knew about toxic trailers.

Patriot Act’s Greatest Hits: FBI, Justice Department begin fraud probe of anti-terror office.

A New Low: Bush hits 19% in Wisconsin.

Payout: VA pays for Agent Orange exposure.

Long Summer: Success of troop buildup in Iraq won’t be known till November.

Waiting for Your Vote to Count: Overhaul of US voting system put on hold.

Contempt: Bush’s Chief of Staff could face contempt charges if he doesn’t turn over documents in US Attorney firings probe.

Say Goodbye to Flavor: King County cuts trans fats.

“We will not be moving in the middle of the night”: Sonics back in talks, making a move and name change to the Oklahoma City Bombers less likely.

Now, if you’ve ever wondered what Pon-Farr would look like in, um, Turkish…well, watch this:

Seth Rogen, action star?

The doughy star of this summer’s breakout hit, “Knocked Up,” is finalizing a deal to write, and likely star in, Columbia’s bigscreen adaptation of “Green Hornet.” He will exec produce, along with co-writer and frequent collaborator Evan Goldberg.

Rogen would play Brit Reid, millionaire publisher-turned-masked crime fighter — a role George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg and Jake Gyllenhaal flirted with in various stages of the project’s long gestation.

That’s the best movie news I’ve heard since Jack Black was in talks to play Green Lantern.

The Green Hornet movie has been in development hell for at least a decade. Kevin Smith was the last big name attached to the movie. He was supposed to write and direct it, but he wussed out when he realized he doesn’t have an f-ing clue about how to direct action. The Weinsteins even told Smith they’d get someone else to direct the action as long as he wrote the film and handled the non-actiony stuff, but it was still a no go.

I am giddy with nerd-excitement. Seth Rogen has a great, albeit short, track record but I hope like crap this Green Hornet movie doesn’t run off the rails like the last dozen did.

Now, who the hell is gonna play Kato???

Via Variety

…youth pastor’s arrest on child solicitation charges.

A church community expressed shock Thursday night after learning the youth minister was charged with soliciting online to who he thought was a minor.

Pastor Jim Gysel of the Chapel Hill United Methodist Church said Troy Deal, the man facing the allegations, is not the man he and the community have known for the past five years.

A couple of sources in the club world report that Nick Licata and Richard Conlin, erstwhile opponents of Mayor Greg Nickels’s proposed nightlife license (which only Sally Clark, who authored the council version of the mayor’s proposal, and Jan Drago previously supported) may be changing their positions after the release of a list of the city’s “most violent” nightclubs that even Mayor Nickels’s office, which released it, has admitted is flawed. Licata met with club representatives in his office today; neither he nor others present at the meeting have called me back yet to confirm that Licata’s opposition to the license is wavering. Conlin, likewise, did not return a call for comment.

The mayor’s list was compiled using LiquorStat, a city system that tracks how many violations occur in and around clubs. One major flaw of the system is that it doesn’t distinguish between actual violations of liquor and other laws inside the club, mere complaints about the club, and violent or nuisance crimes that occur outside the club. So an incident that happens in a parking lot nearby a club can be pinned on the club—even if the perpetrators never set foot inside. If someone merely had a drink in a club, then committed a violation elsewhere, that counts as a violation too. And even if the bar itself calls in a violation —for example, someone who’s trying to use a fake ID—it still counts as a violation by the club. As a result, club advocates say, the system grossly inflates clubs’ violation numbers. According to a letter sent to council members by Last Supper Club general manager Darcy Hanson, the Last Supper Club was included on the mayor’s “most violent” list despite having no violations on record.

For the record, we have never had a liquor violation, firearm incident, or violent assault. We have consistently worked hand in hand with liquor control, police, and all other government offices to ensure a safe and law abiding operation. The Last Supper Club being added to the current list of “Problem Clubs” has left us in shock, to say the least. During my tenure, there has never been any notice of my venue being a problem club! It is of great concern to me that the Mayor can use “facts” that his office openly admits are provided by a city data base that “needs to work out the kinks”. It is highly unethical to use inaccurate data to slander these businesses to further an agenda. I believe this media barrage is clearly meant to rally support for this proposed ordinance and not to better the community or public safety. We have always prided ourselves with keeping an open line of communication with the neighborhood, city, and state officials. This current environment is threatening this type of communication on a city wide level. Ultimately it is contradictory to what the Mayors office, business owners, and the community wants: A safe and prosperous nightlife.

Self-proclaimed “thug misses” Khia—last heard singing “My Neck, My Back (Lick It)” (“Then you roll your tongue, from the crack back to the front/ then suck it off til I shake and cum nigga/ make sure I keep bustin nuts nigga”)—has an advice column for Hood Magazine, where she’ll answer your “qestions” about love, sex, and relationships.

Here’s the first question, with Khia’s response.

Khia I got a serious situation going on, I be with this girl from time to time, well I be fucking this girl sometimes, we don’t do nothing but fuck, we don’t talk, we don’t go out, we just fuck. When we first started fucking she told me she was on the shot and was trying to get me to hit her raw but I never would. Then we started using her condoms all the time and now she saying she pregnant. I really think she poked holes in the condoms or something because I never slipped not once. What should I do? -Fucked up in the HooD

What’s really HooD Fucked up in the HooD? Shit, I guess we all get fucked up in the HooD from time to time but shit what did you get yourself into? You know damn well not to hit no HooD trick raw, butt naked, or any other bitch at that, cause a real bitch would pack her own protection shot. There’s so much shit to catch out here so this sounds like a set up to me. Do you know of her fucking any other niggas you know, the streets don’t lie. Now you already knnow if your dealing with a lady or a tramp so a blood test is needed ASAP before you do any claiming. In the mean time be a loyal nigga and a friend and be there for her and the child, hell you was hitting it, and if it comes back not yours you’ll look like a real ass nigga who stepped up to the plate and she’ll look like a nasty whore that needs Muarry [ECB: Maury?] to find her REAL baby daddy… You Are Not The Father!!!!!!!!Hello

Watch your back, Savage. There’s a new hot mess in town.

(Via DListed)

Since Waid’s Hatian Lounge, located on 12th and Jefferson, opened in July 2006, neighbors have complained about late-night noise. This week, after a shooting occurred near Waid’s, a small group of Barclay Court residents marched to city hall and urged the City Council to pass legislation to “protect” their neighborhood. Mike Webb, who lives around the block from Waid’s, told the council the shooting was “the result…of an illegal nightclub in our neighborhood,” However, according to Seattle Police Department spokeswoman Renee Witt, SPD found “no connection between the incident and Waid’s.”

This is how bad things have gotten between Waid’s owner, Waid Sainvil, and the neighborhood. For the last 3 years, neighbors say the he building Waid’s occupies has been home to several problem businesses. Before it was Waid’s it was Cafe Langano and before that, Mundo’s.

Now, neighbors say they’re fed up with the booming bass and loud patrons, and they want Waid’s out of the neighborhood.

While Barclay Court residents have been complaining about the problem for years, they’ve yet to produce any real concrete evidence that Waid’s is a problem. Anecdotally, I’ve gone to Waid’s late on a Saturday night and didn’t hear the earth-rattling bass several neighbors told me about. However, Waid Sainvil has been able to produce some evidence that he’s trying to appease the neighborhood. He sent me a copy of a recent test by a sound engineer, which showed he was within the city’s noise level limits, and he claims he’s spent $70,000 soundproofing the building, although he was unable to show me any receipts for the work.

Yesterday, I spoke with Barclay Court resident Richard Shaffer and asked why Waid’s had been blamed for the recent shooting. Shaeffer clarified the neighborhood’s position. “It does appear that there was no clear connection between the shooting and Waid’s”, he said. “There was no malicious intent [in our statement]. That was our understanding at the time. We apologize if we jumped to a conclusion.”

Waid’s conditional use permit —which allows him to operate near a residential zone— is under review by the Department of Planning and Development and a final decision about the restaurant/bar/nightclub’s future should come next Monday. Sainvil is confident that his business will remain open. “This thing is just getting out of control,” he says. “If they want to shut me down, they have to come up with a good reason. The shooting had nothing to do with me.”

Sunday’s Lee “Scratch” Perry show at Neumo’s raised a very important issue for Seattle show-goers and pot smokers.

What is the weed policy inside a club? Why is it apparently stricter inside a venue than outside, where, thanks to Prop I-75, city police have been instructed to turn a blind eye?

“If it’s cigarettes, we’re gonna get a fine,” says Steven Severin, owner/booker at Neumo’s. “If it’s an illegal substance, it gets reported to Liquor Control Board and everything else Mayor Nickels has to try ot shut down nightlife, and that’s gonna go against us.”

Bottom line: “Don’t bring your shit inside,” Severin warns. “Don’t make it difficult for us.”

Read the full report over on Line Out.

Take it away, Maureen O’Hagan:

A prominent Seattle psychologist has been suspended from practice after being accused by the state Board of Psychology of secretly videotaping a woman in his office bathroom.

Oh, and:

In Washington, he was frequently court-appointed as an evaluator in child-custody cases and was a consultant for the Archdiocese of Seattle when it was defending itself in sexual-abuse cases involving priests.

Seattle Times reports that cops have arrested a 28-year-old for the murder of Mike Webb. What Seattle Times hasn’t reported, but the Seattle P-I has, is that the 28-year-old confessed to the crime.

Buck You: Kim Hayden’s undying love for the legendary Buck Owens.

Body Movin’: The music that makes Donte Parks run.

D.Black: Local hiphop artist is today’s Block Party Band of the Day.

More Maritime: The band posts another new song on the internets.

Smashing Pumpkins Respond: “Another mistruth in this letter is the statement that the Pumpkins were once the most important band in the world. If the facts are what we are all seeking, everyone knows that Citizen Dick has always been and will forever be the most important band in the world.”

Sound Check: Trent Moorman investigates the pedal steel guitar.

Up & Coming: Here’s what you can do tonight.

“Brother Louie”: JZ says “Unarguably the best disco ballad about interracial romance ever recorded.”

As a counter to Brad’s earlier post, here’s evidence that not all nerd activities lead to antisocial behavior. Consider this Pokemon enthusiast, who approaches his hobby with a serene, almost Zen detach … um, ok, I can’t do it. This kid is nucking futs.

Bastille Day, the French national holiday, commemorates the storming of the Bastille, which took place on 14 July 1789 and marked the beginning of the French Revolution. The Bastille was a prison and a symbol of the absolute and arbitrary power of Louis the 16th’s Ancient Regime. By capturing this symbol, the people signaled that the king’s power was no longer absolute: power should be based on the Nation and be limited by a separation of powers.

What does this mean to Seattle? Hell if I know. But I tried to find out. And because this city, weirdly, decided to celebrate the holiday on Sunday the 15th, from 11 am-6 pm at the Seattle Center (?), I thought I go out and talk to some people Saturday night. I ate a big hunk of super gooey Brie (yum) then drank a whole bottle of Two Buck Chuck (oops) and stormed the biggest Bastille Day celebration I’d heard of - The Comet Tavern. The music was perfect, and members of local band Romance were especially nice. And patient. I can’t believe how many times I asked them to try to sing the French National Anthem…

“Fête Nationale” How Was It!

This video is old, old, old, but I was reminded of it when I started playing Halo 2 on-line again recently. If you’ve never spent time fragging teens over Xbox Live, this is the type of lunacy you’ve been missing.

(Note: definitely NSFW.)

As Eli noted yesterday, Rodney Tom is a trendy topic these days. (At least here on Slog and in the PI, and in the Seattle Times anyway.)

Tom is the Republican-turned-Democrat state house Senator who’s taking on Darcy Burner in the Democratic Primary for the right to run against Republican Rep. Dave Reichert (R-8) for U.S. Congress.

In the discussion yesterday, Burner’s folks made the case that Burner was more viable than Tom. They explained that in last year’s election in Tom’s own 48th state senate district (parts of which fall within the 8th U.S. congressional district), in a de facto head-to-head between Burner and Tom, Burner scored 250 more votes in her race against Reichert than Tom scored against his GOP opponent at the time, incumbent state Sen. Luke Esser.

Eli deflated that argument (250 whole votes!) by pointing out the obvious: Tom’s race was “down ballot.” That is: More people who could vote in both races voted in the the Burner race—a U.S. Congress contest—than voted in a state senate race. Of course Burner got 250 more votes. It’s a wonder she didn’t beat Tom by more.

There’s something else worth noting here. In Tom’s actual head-to-head with a Republican incumbent, Luke Esser—who’s got some Reichert-esque hair of his own—Tom won 53 to 46.

And there was nearly 68 percent turn out in the Tom/Esser contest, which seems like a good sampling of how Tom can do against an R in that district. And if anything, the 48th—with urban like Bellevue in the mix—is more liberal than the other parts of the 8th where Tom didn’t have to stand for election last time. Given that Tom’s coming at Burner from the right, I think his score in the 48th bodes well for him.

Moreover, given that Burner’s coming from the left and more people that could vote in both races voted in her race than in Tom’s, it’s not good news for Burner that she didn’t out poll Tom by more than 250 votes there.

In this week’s Last Days column, I write about the nuptials of Ingo and Andy Pixel, who got married on Saturday and are pictured above.

SATURDAY, JULY 14 Speaking of good news, the week continues with Ingo and Andy Pixel, who today concluded two and a half years of karaoke-soaked living in sin by becoming husband and wife. At this point in history, Last Days has difficulty summoning much enthusiasm for heterosexuals partaking of a social privilege that’s denied to so many. Still, when die-hard freaks find their soul mates, everyone must cheer. Congrats, Ingo and Andy!

Once the column hit stands, more than one friend o’ the Pixels wrote to alert me to the following stipulation, included in the invitations to the wedding ceremony:

We are grateful that we have the opportunity to share our love and celebrate with the blessing of the state government. Unfortunately, not all of our loved ones are so lucky. We have a registry web page set up through the Human Rights Campaign (the forerunner in fighting for equal rights legislation in the United States), and we would be thrilled if you decided to participate by making a donation in our name.

Well shut my mouth (and make your donation at the link above.)

(Photo by Jenny Jimenez.)