Celeb And Now, Some Serious Investigative Journalism!
posted by January 30 at 22:01 PMon
Michael Moore. Well, he’s a lovely man. Lovely. I’m not against him. But he is to an optimist’s attitude what salt panties are to a snail’s clam. His films take my fitful little attitude—desperately sunny with threatening apocalyptic storm fronts (“The waters aren’t rising that much! And we’ll all be able to rush the border when Huckabee disbands Congress and claims America for Jesus, no problem!”)—crumple it into a poopy little wad and flush it straight to hell. I just forced myself to watch Sicko. I’d avoided it long enough. It destroyed me.
But never mind all that.
I noticed something as I watched the film, just a few minutes in, and it was this energetic young fella…
…and he is called Eric Turnbow. You will recognize him as the daring gentleman who made the pilgrimage to London for the express purpose of videotaping himself walking across Abbey Road—a la The Beatles on their famous album cover—but, um, on his hands.
He promptly dislocated his shoulder. Superlative British healthcare ensued. All of this is documented in Mr. Moore’s film.
Eric Turnbow is from Olympia. He is a musician. You might know this.
But, here is what you might don’t know:
Eric Turnbow, famous shoulder-dislocater, is also the brother and/or male sibling of none other than this man…
(Photo: Barbara Pomer)
…who lives in Seattle, and is called Jon Strongbow. Jon has, for as long as anyone can remember, been creating distinctive psychedelic Seattle landscapes like this one…
…which hung at places like Gravity Bar, when there was a Gravity Bar, and still hang at places like Traveler’s on Pine Street and Twice Sold Tales. He is a prolific artist, fascinating local character, and Pike Place Market fixture. You might even know this!
But what you probably might don’t know even more is that both of these brothers—-Turnbow and Strongbow—-are the sons of this Oly-guzzling son-of-a-gun:
…and he was, and is, called Avaton Turnbow. He ran a psychic bookstore in downtown Olympia in the ‘60s, until he decided it was a better idea to found his very own religious cult. He called it “The Fellowship,” and had himself all sorts of jaunty adventures, I’m sure. He sounds like an interesting dinner guest.
Indeed, a source that will eat me alive if I name him (or her) says, “Almost every member of that family is a mad genius. I adore them all.”
Sounds like a fascinating story, doesn’t it? Just, doesn’t it?!