posted by
Christopher Frizzelle on
August 16 at
10:46 PM
A letter sent to tips@komo4news.com, newstips@king5.com, and tips@q13.com—and cc’ed to The Stranger:
Just in case the local Seattle news media did not know, there are about 100,000 people attending the Seattle HempFest this weekend…I have seen nothing on any of your newscasts about this…Once again, the local media fails to reflect the news that’s going on…
This is in addition to the complete lack of coverage of Gay Pride in June…
There seems to be a pattern of censorship with what stories get airtime…It’s not a matter of laziness, since this news story is taking place right next to your news stations….I think you all need to hire new news directors….I’m not a news director, but I can spot stories that get ratings and these fluff pieces your using as filler all the time are getting old…
Anthony Vicari Everett, WA
No surprise about KOMO—unless you don’t know about their pattern of marijuana-related censorship. Let’s just take a look, yeah? What’s up on KOMO’s homepage right now? (A screen grab of as much of the page as possible.)
posted by
Christopher Frizzelle on
August 16 at
10:29 PM
some crazy bastard in the apartments next to apacolypse tattoo on olive was just throwing glass out of his/her 4th/ 5th floor window into the opening of the alley. upon impact this glass shattered like christmas in the sun and was amazing. and hit a girl several times. she wasn’t cut, luckily, but she was sure as shit freaked out. even the indians squatting in front of the building were irked. what the fuck is wrong with people? i’m moving to queen anne.
At Large
Across the Uni(ted States of America)verse
posted by
Christopher Frizzelle on
August 16 at
10:19 PM
The writers (and sometime Stranger contributors) Davida Marion and Kurt B. Reighley (nothing romantic) just drove from Seattle to New York City. They took photos of things. And photos of them taking photos of things.
Just because I think Vanessa Ho should go check out Hempfest, that doesn’t mean I’m going to Hempfest. If I were getting stoned today—and I’m not saying that I am (or that I’m not)—I would be getting stoned in West Seattle, on Alki beach, where there’s some sort of beach volleyball tournament going on.
This picture doesn’t do the day, West Seattle, or the beach volleyball players justice, of course, but trust me: there are a lot of gorgeous, lean, sweaty men and women all up and down Alki playing volleyball.
So if you’re not getting stoned at Hempfest, where are you getting stoned today?
Local metal/hardcore stars Himsa are playing their last show ever tonight. Someone’s probably gonna get hurt. Their live performances are already screaming, boiling messes with nutso dudes going apeshit over shredding guitar and Johnny Pettibone’s demonic vocals. The band’s farewell performance is sure to be the craziest scene in Himsa history, so brutal some megafan is even flying in from Italy to see it! And to think you only have to walk down the street to get there. (El Corazón, 109 Eastlake Ave E, 381-3094. 9:30 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, all ages.)
At the Seattle Mystery Book Shop, Trevor Scott signs his two newest books, Burst of Sound and The Cold Edge. They are both mysteries, and they star different characters. They otherwise don’t sound interesting to me.
At the Elliott Bay Book Company, Kira Salak is doing a reading from a book called White Mary. This book is a case of a piece of publicity murdering my interest in a book. I get this book in the mail, I don’t remember what it’s about now, but I thought it looked interesting. Then I accidentally look at the publicist’s letter that promotes the reading, which I desperately try not to do at most times, and I read that Publisher’s Weekly announced that this book is “a blend of Heart of Darkness and Tomb Raider.” I am never going to read this book now, because that stupid blank-meets-blank thing is stuck in my head. So this might be a good book. But I will never know, because of an awful book review. And that’s the power of book reviews.
And! At the Seattle Public Library, David B. will be reading. B. is a French memoirist who wrote and drew a wonderful comic book called Epileptic. Two panels of Epileptic are above. You should go to this reading because I’m willing to bet that David B. won’t be here again any time soon, and Epileptic is awesome and so on and so forth.
The full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is here.
Last night, just before 11 pm, I was walking past the police station at 12th and Pine. As I passed the entrance, a man in a head-to-toe Carmen Miranda costume (complete with towering fruit turban) came storming out.
He looked at me and shouted, “THEY WOULDN’T READ ME MY CARMEN MIRANDA RIGHTS!”
The Xbox 360 edition of Soul Calibur 4 adds Yoda to the fighting, and the marketing tie-in seems tacky at first. Even kinda cheap—uh, you can’t throw Yoda, and in Soul Calibur, that’s 1/4 of the 3D battle. But I’ve come to appreciate the grammatically challenged half-pint.
Tiny is he. Hops around all over the place. Is weaker. Can summon the force. Why, that sure seems different for Soul Calibur, doesn’t it? In a fighting game where many Euro-centric characters swing their oversized swords/hammers/axes the same way they did in 1999, Yoda forces a strategy reboot. Maybe a healthy dose of the supernatural could do this ancient series some good.
Sadly, that’s as far as Soul Calibur 4 gets in upgrading a core fight that was already phenomenal in the 1999 original. Back then, it was the first good 3D fighting game with weapons. The second and third versions lost that luster by adding mere tweaks; this one sees more tweaks, HD graphics, and online play.
“Poisoning the parks”: $48 million Marijuana growing site in the Ross Lake National Recreation area busted; authorities discuss weed cultivation’s negative effects on national parks.
Manslaughter: Teen charged for shooting hiker he thought was a bear.
Sold: City unburdens itself of space-age toilets for a mere $12,500.
Gangland: Seattle officials take another look at city’s gang problem.
To the surprise of nobody, the city auditor’s office announced this week that many construction projects are blocking sidewalks.
Under current rules, most developers only provide signs that say, “Sidewalk Closed,” which is another way of saying, “Jaywalk Here.” And some sites create perilous detour channels into the trajectory of oncoming traffic.
Requested by city councilmember Nick Licata, the report, titled “City Should Take Steps to Enhance Pedestrian and Cyclist Mobility Through and Around Construction Sites,” makes four no-brainer recommendations: “Making pedestrian and cyclist mobility a priority, coordinating multiple projects located in the same area, improving inspection and enforcement, and communicating with the public.”
“If New York is doing this, why cant we?” asks Licata. Good question—and good on ya, Nick, for getting this ball rolling. Almost every construction site in New York City either provides a walkway on the sidewalk that’s covered, or a walkway on the street protected by a wall of barricades. The report (.pdf) advises that we adopt those and other alternatives, using a model from Washington, D.C. If we do, Licata says, “Anyone who wants a permit [to block the sidewalk] has to give a written explanation on why they can’t do one of the alternatives.”
In my last e-mail to you, I asked you all to give me suggestions on creative ways to save money, cut fuels costs and help us meet our service obligations in these challenging economic times. I asked for ideas on how to avoid trips - even across town - and still get your very important jobs done. In fact, I asked you to be as creative in increasing savings as you are with your own family budgets. And if you came up with ideas that can be applied across state government, I wanted to hear from you.
I knew I could count on you and was pleased to receive over 300 responses. Some of the ideas included improving the state’s buying policies, encouraging more mass transit, vanpool use and teleconferencing, and eliminating cell phones and Blackberries. However, the most popular idea was implementing a ten-hour workday four days a week.
I have asked my senior staff and cabinet directors to investigate the feasibility and cost saving possibilities of each idea. Some of your ideas were very specific to your agency or division, and I have asked agency directors to look into those.
I also want to let you know that the suggestion box is still open. As I said in my earlier message, “when all is said and done, it is each of you making thousands of decisions every single day who will determine how effective these steps will be.”
You are a major part of one of the best state governments in our nation. I thank you for your service and look forward to more ideas for saving money and cutting fuel costs.
2008
Since When Is Alan Colmes Allowed to Wear His Testicles to Work?
posted by
Dan Savage on
August 15 at
5:22 PM
On Fox’s Hannity & Colmestoday earlier this week Sean Hannity asks the panel this question at about 2:12: “Explain to me, I’m just a regular guy, and I’m wondering uf you can’t keep your promise to your family, if you can’t keep your promise to your wife, you’re having an affair, you’re lying about the affair … why should the American people trust you when you say you’re not going to lie to them? Why should we trust you?”
They’re talking about John Edwards, who actually isn’t running for president.
Alan Colmes points out that John McCain, who is running for president, broke his promise to his first family, broke his promise to his wife, admits to having at least one affair, etc. So how can we trust John McCain?
It’s hilarious—and you gotta love Hannity’s response after the break: John McCain was tortured as a prisoner of war in Vietnam, so he gets a pass—oh, and anyway McCain’s adultery happened three decades ago. So adultery isn’t always wrong; in fact, it’s permissible under certain circumstances, and in special cases.
Remember when right-wingers condemned this kind of moral relativism?
And, hey, if refraining from committing adultery is a test for office, why isn’t Hannity supporting Barack Obama?
And for those of you keeping score at home: Adultery that end in divorce? (McCain, Gingrich, Reagan, et al.) That’s okay. Adultery that doesn’t end in divorce? (Clinton, Edwards.) That’s not okay.
Ah, Twitter. Because all your friends must know that you had Indian food, took a dump, and are ready for a nap. Ron Sims is in on the action. In the upper-right-hand corner of the King County Executive’s home page, a helpful box informs us of Sims’s fiber-rich breakfast of yogurt, berries, and chopped nuts.
Hacking Netflix reports that Netflix is back up and running. (My queue is still messed up, though.) Apparently, every Netflix customer who was affected is getting a 15% credit for the four days without service.
Customers are still outraged:
…I’m watching Star Trek Voyager, and I’m at the end of season 2. Season 2 disk 6 was supposed be shipped today as of last night, but it’s gone “poof” and they are shipping season 2 disk 7. I had to go back and add disk 6 back up at the top.
I’m just glad this didn’t happen when I was watching DS9.
I realize it’s only August—man, is it ever August—and there are lots of other pit bull fanciers out there. We won’t stop taking nominations for Pit Bull Fancier of the Year, of course, but I don’t see how any other pit bull fanciers could possibly hold a candle to these two.
A couple who received a $210,000 settlement from the city of Richmond after police shot and killed their pit bull are in custody after two of their other pit bulls—abducted from a Sacramento County animal shelter after attacking a utility worker—were shot and killed by a sheriff’s detective.
At about 10:45 a.m. Wednesday, Sacramento County sheriff’s detectives went to a motel on the 7800 block of College Town Drive to arrest the couple for allegedly robbing an 80-year-old woman of her purse on July 9. When Peters opened the door, two large pit bulls charged out of the room and “viciously attacked” a 57-year-old motel maintenance worker who was walking nearby, said sheriff’s Sgt. Tim Curran.
Fearing for the man’s life, a detective fired numerous shots, killing both dogs, Curran said. The maintenance worker was taken to a local hospital for severe dog bites to his arms and legs. Investigators learned that the two pit bulls had attacked a Sacramento Municipal Utility District worker in Carmichael on June 16. After that attack, the dogs were impounded by animal control officers.
The couple is suspected of breaking into the animal control facility at 4290 Bradshaw Road on July 8 and taking their dogs, Curran said. When investigators went to the couple’s Carmichael home, they learned that the two had been evicted, authorities said…. The investigation into the animal facility break-in and abduction of the dogs is ongoing.
What a heartwarming story of devotion! Breaking into an animal control facility to free your precious dogs after the animals had proven themselves to be vicious! I imagine that Dreamworks has probably snapped up the rights already.
And without a doubt the first cop, the second cop, the motel maintenance worker, and the utility worker all did something to provoke those dogs. We actually know what the maintenance worker was doing: He was “walking nearby,” which I shall add to the list of things one is not supposed to do when one leaves the house, lest one provoke some good-natured pit or other into mauling one nearly to death.
Oh, and I don’t doubt that that 80 year-old woman did something to provoke these pit bull fanciers into stealing her purse.
—I love freedom of expression so here is my opinion—
Aug. 9. 08
Editor:
I was in Seattle 2 days ago & read some of your mostly fine articles in “the Stranger.” I am not even close to being a JOHN McCain fan. That being said, the former military man you are mocking with your “JOHN McCain’s Swollen Gland” column is in part a veteran of the American military’s responsibility for the freedoms you & your staff enjoy to write such pathetic rubbish. THAT being said: May any member/members of your staff that find this column amusing “vomit into their own mouth, fall to the ground, suffocate on the puke, & then have gasoline poured onto their now totally worthless lifeless bodies & be lit on fire” —Thank you for your time—
Lovely sentiment, Murray! And nice stamp. Let’s forget about the immolation wish and just focus on the stamp.
Yesterday I wrote about the Obama camp’s big ‘fuck you’ to Obama Nation author Jerome Corsi. One of their biggest arguments about Corsi is that he’s a 9/11 Truther.
Predictably, the Truthers are outraged. On We Are Change Seattle’s website, in a story titled Obama Fanatics Slam Author For Questioning 9/11, the opening paragraphs read:
An army of frenzied Barack Obama acolytes have been busy attempting to smear writer Jerome Corsi, author of Obama Nation, by citing his skepticism towards the official 9/11 story, seemingly ignorant of the fact that such doubts are shared by the majority of Americans.
The New York Times also got in on the act with a sneering attempt to validate the attack on Corsi, which is being supported by Obama’s own campaign staff.
The coordinated smear attempt is obviously born out of the concern that Corsi’s 2004 book, Unfit for Command, basically sank John Kerry’s presidential bid because it was the inspiration behind the Swift Boat Veteran’s For Truth campaign.
So it looks like Obama has officially lost the 9/11 Truth vote. They might even do for John McCain what they did for Ron Paul. I am cowering in fear at the possibility.
I don’t believe we’ve hit the very nadir of summer movie season—I think that’s next week, with The Rocker and Death Race and House Bunny in wide release and even Northwest Film Forum resorting to some movie about climbing mountains—but this week is pretty damn depressing.
So take this opportunity to remain immobile indoors with an electric fan and watch 2008 Stranger Genius Lynn Shelton’s My Effortless Brilliance on IFC’s hoity-toity new pay-per-view service, IFC Festival Direct.
(Highlight of the official trailer: “HIS EGO IS OUT OF CONTROL.”) And no, we did not give Shelton a Genius award because she cast a former Stranger film editor in the lead role. And, uh… I promise we didn’t give it to because her new movie was about HUMP, The Stranger’s porn festival. I hate HUMP. God, this is awkward.
Opening this week:
Andrew Wright reviews Tropic Thunder. It may mock retarded people, but Wright remains heroically tepid: “Tropic Thunder… may ultimately feel a bit toothless—it’s difficult to cut too deeply when your satirical take on studio blockbusters and crazy actors is produced by a major studio with Tom Cruise in a supporting role—but offers a number of genuine laughs between the self-congratulatory waves. It’s just good enough to make you wish it were better.” (Technically opened Wednesday.)
Lindy West watches Star Wars: The Clone Wars so you don’t have to: “‘AAAAHH! EE WONKO KOKA OO CHOBEE!’ says Jabba. ‘BABA LOOGAAH JEDI GLEE GLAAH JABBABABA! CHODA GLAH GLAH BABABABABABABA LOOGAH!’ And the Jedis are all, ‘Sure, Jabba, we’ll get your stinky baby back!’ Then there’s lots of sarcastic swordplay banter (‘I’m impressed.’ ‘Now you die.’ ‘Shall we continue?’ ‘My pleasure’), stuff blows up, we meet Jabba’s Southern gay uncle, Meshach Taylor the Hutt, and everything turns out just fine.”
Canceled press screening or no canceled press screening, Andrew Wright quite likes Mirrors: The movie “distinguishes itself from the glut via an unusually suggestive premise (reflecting goblins wreak havoc on haunted security guard Kiefer Sutherland), a genuinely creepy burned-out department store backdrop, and a number of hard-R, unreservedly gooshy shocks.”
Jen Graves writes up Frozen River: “Frozen River was shot in subzero weather on Lake Champlain in northern New York, and it renders starkly the cracking lives of two women, Ray (the mother, played by the truly great Melissa Leo, whose face you’ll recognize from a hundred nuanced supporting roles), and Lila (Misty Upham).”
I review the new Woody Allen movie, Vicky Cristina Barcelona: “I do hope that this is the last time Woody Allen will cast Scarlett Johansson in anything, because in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, she’s approaching pure trollop. As Cristina, an anything-goes sexpot who entertains artistic pretensions, Johansson could be Brigitte Bardot dubbed with a flat American accent. If you entertain the idea that she might be parodying herself, it’s almost an interesting performance.” The Spaniards don’t come off any better.
And I all but gag on Henry Poole Is Here: “Henry Poole Is Here is condescending toward believers, contemptuous toward disbelievers, and has the worst soundtrack in the entire history of cinema.”
Midnight Meat Train is, sadly, departed from theaters, but Lindy West will catch you up to speed.
She also throws herself in front of the Fly Me to the Moon bus. Thanks, Lindy.
Never fear, though, there are multiple jackpots in this week’s Limited Runs. Where to begin?
SIFF Cinema has all of Jean-Luc Godard’s ’60s hits (save Vivre Sa Vie, which plays next week): Two or Three Things I Know About Her tonight, Weekend tomorrow, A Woman Is a Woman Sunday, Band of Outsiders (my personal favorite) Monday, Masculine, Feminine Tuesday, Pierrot le Fou Wednesday, and Breathless Thursday. If you missed it at SIFF, go immediately to see Fatih Akin’s The Edge of Heaven at the Varsity (Tuesday evening shows are bargain priced!). At Northwest Film Forum, don’t miss Being There, the climax and finale of the Hal Ashby series, or the in-person appearance of Bay Area filmmaker Craig Baldwin (Tribulation 99) and screening of his newest found-footage collage, Mock Upon Mu, which is about Scientology, in part. NWFF also has Orson Welles’s Isak Dinesen adaptation The Immortal Story and an extra-special edition of its quarterly filmmakers’ challenge: Every movie in the Tubs Film Challenge program was filmed at the abandoned Tubs. Grand Illusion has the comics adaptation Happily Ever After. Looking for something to do tonight? At 7 pm at Vermillion Gallery, they’re projecting two Japanese monster movies, Monster from a Prehistoric Planet and Godzilla vs. Megalon, in 16 mm—good job with the old-school, guys. If you get sick of monsters, head over to Cal Anderson Park for Three Dollar Bill’s screening of The Gang’s All Here. Totally incompatible with either of those excellent choices is Jean Renoir’s excellent The Golden Coach at SAM, also tonight. And looking ahead to next Wednesday, I heart Powell and Pressburger’s Black Narcissus.
As if that weren’t enough to keep you occupied: Here’s our complete movie times search. Enjoy!
Nerd
/ The Ladies
San Diego Comic-Con: Full of Misogynists?
posted by
Paul Constant on
August 15 at
3:00 PM
Anybody ever tell you you look like She-Ra? Haw! Haw! Hey, come on back to my castle. I’m a real Beast-Man in the sack!
Kevin Church’s blog has news of what he considers to be pervasive sexism in the comic book convention-going community:
Overheard at San Diego Comic-Con while I was having lunch on the balcony of the Convention Center on Sunday July 27: a bunch of guys looking at the digital photos on the camera of another, while he narrated: “These were the Ghostbusters girls. That one, I grabbed her ass, ’cause I wanted to see what her reaction was.” This was only one example of several instance of harassment, stalking or assault that I saw at San Diego this time.
1. One of my friends was working at a con booth selling books. She was stalked by a man who came to her booth several times, pestering her to get together for a date that night. One of her co-workers chased him off the final time.
2. On Friday, just before the show closed, this same woman was closing up her tables when a group of four men came to her booth, started taking photographs of her, telling her she was the “prettiest girl at the con.” They they entered the booth, started hugging and kissing her and taking photographs of themselves doing so. She was confused and scared, but they left quickly after doing that.
I’m not exactly shocked at this news, but I think it’s an important conversation to have, especially since this year’s news coverage of SDCC seems to be all about how it’s the pop-culture event of the year. The fanboys might have to stop acting like douches when the whole world’s paying attention.
And you can read all about it Blatherwatch, Hominid Views, and HA. Now I wouldn’t go so far as to call Marshall a vain, effete, caterwauling pussy, per Goldy, but I will, in solidarity with Blatherwatch, a local blog that Marshall is attempting to bully into pulling down an entirely legit blog post, join in calling Marshall a pussy.
You can read the original Blatherwatch blog about Marshall after the jump.
Sloggers had some wonderful advice yesterday for the longwinded guy whose best friend’s bride-to-be lost her shit when her groom-to-be got shit-faced at his bachelor party. You can read it here. So we’ll stick with the wedding theme for today’s “Savage Love Letter of the Day.” Ladies and gentlemen, let’s help out this deeply conflicted maid-of-honor-to-be…
I’m a 26-year-old lesbian. “Amber” has been one of my closest friends for eight years now, since we met the first week of college. We’ve always been particularly close; she’s the first person I came out to, for example, back in my sophomore year of college. She’s also, supposedly, straight.
“… during the presale of the G1, T-mobile customers can pick up the phone for $150. This is where it gets interesting, we’re not seeing any prices for new activations during the presale, so this could mean that only current T-mobile customers can pick up the G1 during the presale. Other customers interested in the G1 may have to wait until beginning/mid October before a national public launch.”
This is clearly not going to be another iPhone. The device looks downright clunky next to Apple’s phone:
But it could be significantly cheaper. Will that be enough to make a difference? And should I get one?
Answers are not clear as this time. Try again later.
posted by
Jonah Spangenthal-Lee on
August 15 at
1:46 PM
Skaters, meet your new Seask8 replacement skatepark:
Click to enlarge
The designs aren’t completely finished—they’re still working out how to implement some of the obstacles in the park—but this should be fairly close to the final design.
The park should be completed sometime next June, although the major festivals at the Center could keep Seask8 closed for several months during the summer.
UPDATE:THE SEATTLE CENTER IS NOT CHARGING ADMISSION TO THE SKATE PARK!!!! The admissions booth is for the festivals.
How you feel about riding the damn bus depends entirely upon your point of view. It’s all in how you look at it.
You can choose to see it as a grand service to the environment, for example—a brave move to, uh, curtail global warming or something. Then you can feel noble and wise and martyr-y about it, and really look down your nose on all those poor stupid stressed-out polluting idiots that you’re so jealous of because they can actually afford a God damn car.
Or you can, as millions of smart young office slaves and organic grocery store workers have before you, convince yourself that taking the bus is just a temporary thing, a segue, something you’ll do until…well, until you don’t anymore. Someday. And it’s okay: you can just turn up your IPod, plug your nose, whip out a battered old paperback, and suck it up. Or you can decide to visualize yourself as a responsible, egalitarian, um, citizen. If you’ll pardon the expression.
But really? You’re probably just broke. And that’s alright. It’s a sign of the fucking times.
And me? Well. I’ve been riding the damn bus with alarming frequency lately (you will forget that last statement—FORGET!) and I choose to see riding the bus as…well, it really isn’t anyone’s damn business what I see it as, which probably has some kinky thing to do with gay sex that I have absolutely no intention of explaining here anyway. But I’m having a little problem.
I’m pretty darn sure that I am allergic to public transportation. As in, the bus. It’s terrible. Humiliating! And I am in no way making this up. Allergic!
Do bums give off pollen? Are office dicks so very dusty and danderous? Do old women emit spoor? Please, tell me! I must know!
It takes 90-seconds—sometimes less. I get on the bus, pay my dollar fi’ty or what-the-fuck-ever, I accept the disgusting and infuriating little piece of paper from the driver (“transfer”, indeed! It’s pocket pollution!), and take a seat, if they all aren’t already full of winos and people trying to ignore them. Then, suddenly, with no warning or mercy, my sinuses swell and drain, and an evil little tickle, relentless, out to destroy me, causes my throat to spaz-out, my lungs to heave like a drowning dolphin, and I suffer an uncontrollable coughing fit worthy of an emphysematic spaniel. I gag, I wretch, I cough-cough-COUGH!
There is no hiding it or stopping it or relaxing into it, and my fellow bus riders, let’s face the sad truth, begin to look at me as if I were an oily plague rat. The damn bums scooch away from me. And that, ladies and gentleman, can devastate a man.
More than a few times, in fact, I have had to de-bus far from my actual stop out of sheer exasperation. And the moment I step off the bus? Nothing. My sinuses open like a clear blue sky and my cough evaporates. Silence descends. Just like that.
Please to note: I have never suffered an allergy before in my life. Not one! Drown me in penicillin! Dunk me in dairy! Stuff every orifice with peanuts! Powder me in pollen until the cows come cowing home! Nothing! I am, indeed, disgustingly healthy, knock wood. Hell, I might not even be human. But there’s just no denying it anymore. And I’m not really sure how to cope.
Go to Smoke Farm, that raw, 360-acre wonderland just an hour north of Seattle that is slowly becoming the place where I want to die—down by the river, on a late spring evening—and let the coyotes chew on my bones.
(Briefly: Smoke Farm is a former dairy farm run by a few well-intentioned people—Stuart Smithers, a UPS philosophy professor; Craig Hollow, a local architect; others—where good things happen. It has hosted theater and literary retreats, education programs, medieval cook-outs with the best chefs in Seattle, and so on. There’s a field where people camp, a river where people swim, a rustic kitchen where people congregate and meet and cook and drink: It’s pretty much paradise.)
Smoke Farm’s third annual performance festival begins tomorrow. It’s $25, including dinner and camping. (Cheap!) The acts will vary: some of last year’s performances were awful, one—by Implied Violence—was shattering, and the dinner was prompt, plentiful, and delicious.
Chow
The Last Bit of Slog Happy-Related Business From Me Today
posted by
Paul Constant on
August 15 at
1:00 PM
Abby brought a whole bunch of these Choice Whole Leaf Organics teas to Slog Happy last night. Being a compulsive tea drinker, I’ve already had three different types.
They are motherfucking delicious teas. I started with the Darjeeling, which was nice, although a little too fruity for my morning tastes—I should’ve waited until after lunch for it. Next, I had the Earl Grey, which was really quite a fine Earl Grey, and I just had a cup of the Jasmine Green, which was my favorite of the bunch.
Apparently, there are also some decaf types of tea, too, but decaf is a crime against God and man, and so I haven’t tried those, although I’m feeling a wee bit jittery now. I think that these are probably about as close to buying loose-leaf tea as you can get in a package. Thank you, Abby, for bringing them along. They’re really good.
So… Russian tanks are within 15 miles of the capital of Georgia, Tbilisi, and Condi Rice is in Tibilisi right now hanging out with the clearly unstable president of Georgia. (As opposed to one unstable president George.) What happens if the Russians capture Condi Rice? Would it be a violation of any quaint Geneva Conventions for the Russians to use “enhanced-interrogation techniques” on an actual member of the Bush administration?
Oh, and Russia is absolutely furious that Poland has agreed to let the US build SDI missile-launching sites on Polish soil, and has let Poland know that US missiles makes ‘em a target for Russian nukes. George Bush is mad, John McCain is sending advisors to Georgia (isn’t that presumptuous of him?), and Barack Obama is still on vacation, where he’s having shaved ice and his ass handed to him.
Fuuuuuck.
Yet here I am, sitting at my desk, more concerned with whether or not Michael Phelps shaved off his pubic hair along with his pornstache before the Olympics. For this I blame Towleroad for directing me to pictures like this one over at the Chicago Tribune’s website…
There are more pictures of Phelps’s crotch at the Chicago Tribune. We’re all going to die and so go enjoy them while you can.
So say the authors of the “Left Behind” books after McCain campaign releases ads hinting to “Left Behind” readers that Obama is, in fact, the anti-Christ.
Just look what they did to this motorist in Florida:
Police recently arrested a woman they said deliberately hit a bike rider and crashed two separate cars, and then ran off naked.
Holly Highfield faces DUI and several other charges after witnesses said she intentionally struck a bicyclist, took off her clothes and ran around the crash scene, then drove off the road while attempting to leave the scene in someone else’s vehicle.
She probably saw one too many bikers roll through a stop sign—something drivers don’t do—and just snapped. Damn cyclists.
Nerd
To Arms! Sign Ye Olde Petition to Saveth Ren Faire
posted by
Jonah Spangenthal-Lee on
August 15 at
12:09 PM
The intrepid wizards at the Washington Renaissance Fantasy Faire (WRFF) have totally broken the time barrier and set up an online petition in the hopes of reopening their festival in 2009.
This year, the WRFF was canceled, due to a dispute with the Mason County Commissioner and Department of Natural Resources.
If you’re a renfaerie and want to help the WRFF slay those fire-breathing beasts at the Mason County Commissioner’s office, you can sign the totally legally binding online petition here.
Fact number one: Times is tight. Fact number two: Tight times need not restrict your dining life to tap water and Top Ramen. The proof you hold in your hands—Cheap Eats, a less-than-attractive phrase that sums up a most attractive concept: availing yourself of the life-affirming pleasures of dining out without succumbing to a soul-crushing state of poverty.
For $2.50, you can buy yourself one of the most wonderful cheap-eats experiences in Seattle: eating elote, roasted sweet corn coated in butter, salty cheese, and chili powder while standing in the parking lot of MacPherson’s Food and Produce (4500 15th Ave S, 762-0115). Besides being able to re-create summer any time you choose (the elote stand is open year-round), you can also take advantage of the unbelievably low prices of produce at this sprawling Beacon Hill market. (On a recent trip, fresh parsley was selling for 79 cents a bunch, organic cherries were $2.99 a pound, and Brussels sprouts an incomprehensible 10 cents (WTF?) a pound.)
Got a thrifty-dining secret to share and/or dispel? Weigh in at The Stranger’s reader-review-powered restaurant guide.
We’ve already gotten our first post-Slog Happy book review. Don’t blame me: Everything after this sentence is written by Mr. Poe.
I’ve never read a book in my life. There was that time in that grade at that school in that class where I was supposed to, but nobody told me how, and this chick I was always beating up already had her report done. It was pretty cool. I got an A+ and she had a straight face for a change. I decided to give reading an actual shot this morning when I realized it would grant me another chance to boost my already-inflated ego on Slog. Last night at The Stranger’s Slog party, which was totally off the hook, Paul tried to remind everyone that they’re stupid by giving out books. I didn’t want to appear stupid, so I grabbed three. I brought this one to work with me today because…I don’t know. Fuck you.
So, Chapter One: The cover.
Black Pearls: A Faerie Strand. Heh. They spelled fairy wrong. Morons. What’s this I see at the bottom…Advance Reading Copy. Advanced Reading? Shit. I don’t even know how to read and I’m already jumping into college material. My mother would be proud. She’s dead, but that isn’t important right now. OK—let me read in peace.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: August 12, 2008 BIGFOOT BODY FOUND. DNA evidence and photo evidence to be presented at a Press Conference to be held:
Date: Friday, August 15, 2008
Time: From 12 Noon-1:00 pm
Place: Cabana Hotel-Palo Alto (A Crown Plaza Resort) 4290 El Camino Real, Palo Alto, California 94306
I kinda wish I was there to listen to these yahoos try to convince everyone that their discovery of the Tooth Fairy, I mean Bigfoot is NOT a hoax…
Visual Art
What are you doing at lunch? What are you doing after lunch? Can you get off work a little early?
posted by
Christopher Frizzelle on
August 15 at
11:58 AM
Susan Robb’s creepy, beautiful, black macro-follicles are back—they grow suddenly out of the grass at Volunteer Park rarely, on lucky sunny days, and they’re stunning. Today is one such day. They’ve been up since 11 am and they’re only going to be there until 5 pm. They look an awful lot like freakish, unasked-for accidents of nature, some sort of biological phenomena writ large—moving, sensing, aggressive, almost sexual. Or they look like an outgrowth of Earth’s hairs, blowing languidly in the atmosphere. They’re also kind of sausage-y, and it complicates everything to know they’re made out of trash-bag lining, filled with the breeze, tied off at the ends, and powered by the sun: the sun heats up the air inside, the heat expands, the toobs move.
They are called Warmth, Giant Black Toobs and have taken the artist—who makes conceptual art about the natural world—to several states in the last month. See them while you can. It’s free. Here’s a map of where you can find them in Volunteer Park, courtesy of Lawrimore Project.
Here’s a documentary video by the artist (taken at Volunteer Park):
City
Anti-Light Rail Group Won’t Take Down Deceptive Claim
posted by
Erica C. Barnett on
August 15 at
11:55 AM
The “No on Prop. 1” campaign opposing this November’s Sound Transit expansion measure is continuing to list the Sierra Club prominently among supporters of the “No” campaign, despite agreeing, according to a story in the Seattle P-I, to take down the deceptive claim.
The Sierra Club opposed last year’s Prop. 1, because it was too roads-heavy and didn’t do enough to address global warming—as the 2007 No on Prop. 1 web site makes abundantly clear. This year’s Prop. 1, so (confusingly) named because it’s the only item on the ballot in King, Pierce, and Snohomish Counties, consists entirely of transit and transit-supporting improvements, including 36 new miles of light rail and expanded bus service. So it’s a no-brainer that the Sierra Club—one of two or three prominent environmental groups that endorses in local elections—would support the new Prop. 1 after opposing the old one.
But you certainly wouldn’t think that after reading the campaign’s web site, which mentions the Sierra Club’s support twice on its front page and makes the measure sound as if it’s the same one that failed last year. Claiming that “not much has changed” about the measure, the site goes so far as to quote the 2007 voter guide statement opposing the measure (a statement the Sierra Club actually did not sign off on, because it was all about taxes, not transit). “This is not a balanced plan. Only 10% funds roads,” the voter statement complains. “That’s why leading Democrats, Republicans, and the Sierra Club all oppose Proposition 1. Don’t be fooled — AGAIN.
James Irwin, the Sierra Club’s local conservation program coordinator, calls the use of the group’s 2007 opposition to Prop. 1 “dodgy” and “disingenuous” but says there may not be much the group can do. “Technically, what they’re saying is accurate—we did oppose 2007’s Proposition 1—but they’re definitely trying to use our name and influence to get people to vote against this.” Irwin says the Sierra Club is “committed” to getting Prop. 1 passed this year.
So why won’t you read anything about Freeman’s involvement on No to Prop. 1’s web site? Because they lost last time based on support for transit, not a desire to build 182 new miles of roads. Polls after the election showed that voters opposed last year’s Prop. 1 because it had too many roads and not enough transit, not the other way around. Freeman and his road-loving friends at No to Prop. 1 know this. Now they’re trying to deceptively hang an anti-transit victory on the Sierra Club’s environmental coattails.
PBS’s affable man of travel, Rick Steves, will be speaking at Hempfest this weekend (Saturday and Sunday in Myrtle Edwards Park). His standard rap about reforming pot laws is pretty mind-blowing coming from such a strait-laced celebrity. I called Steves in Brussels last week to ask how his crusade is going, whether he’s pissed KOMO wouldn’t run his television show, and what’s up with the pot movement’s image problem. The full web-exclusive interview is over here.
On Hempfest and his pot-smokin’ church pals:
You can go to church with 300 people and think you are the only person who smokes pot because nobody will talk about it in that venue. I have friends at my church who smoke pot and it is so fun to have that sort of silent support group.
One great thing about Hempfest is getting 80,000 people together who believe that smoking a soft drug is a civil liberty. It encourages you to realize you are far from alone.
On Holland:
I’ve been in Holland for the past week, and just marveling at looking out over the square at breakfast. People were biking to work and biking their kids to daycare, and there’s a policeman standing there monitoring, keeping the peace. Everybody cares about neighborhoods and their security. And two blocks over, there are prostitutes trying to lure guys into their little rooms, and over at that coffee shop they have 10 different kinds joints out, all rolled up and laid out like little Pez dispensers. Everybody works together and lives together and… it can be a little more tolerant. People can have a few more individual liberties and still live in densely populated situations, they don’t have anywhere near the same amount of incarceration and violence we have in the United States.
On his business:
Well, if someone hears me talk about drug policy and then says he is not going to go to Europe with me, deep down in my heart I celebrate. Because I think Europe will be better off without him.
Curiously, people are most offended not by me taking a political stance, but by the fact that I would take a stance that could hurt my business. They find that really offensive to American profit-maximizing sensibilities.
On hippies:
You think of all my pot-smoking friends who don’t go to Hempfest because it’s not their culture. … I walked with my wife the length of Hempfest and it really scared her. It was a freak show to her. It shouldn’t be traumatizing for a person who is inclined to agree with the decriminalization movement to walk through Hempfest.
So remember, folks, if you have a tie dye, be sure to set it on fire before going to Hempfest. I’ll be speaking there, and I may even wear this shirt again.
One of the 14 girls who will compete on the new season of America’s Next Top Model—which returns to The CW on September 3—is transgender.
“My cards were dealt differently,” Isis, a 22-year-old former receptionist, tells Us Weekly. Hailing from Prince George’s County, Maryland, Isis identifies herself as “a woman born physically male.”
Will she be a role model? “I like to help people, but I’m here to follow my dreams,” she tells Us.
A shameless grab for ratings? A triumph for the transgendered? A recipe for high-octane bathroom dramatics? Yes, yes, and yes.
Yesterday was some awesome Olympics, no? I especially liked Rebecca Soni stuffing the commentators’ feet way up their throats and Ryan Lochte winning something, finally.
But it’s a good thing for women’s gymnastics, I think, that Nastia Liukin’s balance, flexibility, and ability to actually listen to music won out over Shawn Johnson’s little bitty power acrobatics. The artistry gap really made the difference, because both Americans turned in close-to-flawless routines.
For those of you who are worked up about the age of the Chinese gymnasts, the results in the all-around competition are instructive: When the Chinese coaches couldn’t mix and match older and younger gymnasts, as in the team competition, the tiny size of the possibly underage Chinese all-around competitors became a liability. Jiang Yuyuan attempted Shawn Johnson’s 2.5 twisting Yurchenko, a very difficult vault—but she’s almost ten pounds lighter than Johnson, and she wasn’t able to punch the springboard as hard or achieve the air time necessary to complete the rotation. Her fall on that exercise pushed her out of medal contention. Bronze medalist Yang Yilin, whose age is also in dispute, also had much lower scores on the speed and power-oriented events of vault and floor exercise. Combine that with her indifference toward dance, and she came up short. But if she were a little older? Who knows what might have happened?
You could almost eliminate the (under)age advantage in the team competition, it seems, by requiring that all three gymnasts compete on every event. Of course, that would’ve pushed out the 33-year-old German vaulter, too, and everybody loves her. The other possibility would be to go back to a capped high score that doesn’t reward reckless escalation in difficulty—the open-ceiling start value being a misguided recent change that tends to benefit younger, more fearless gymnasts.
Phil Elverum is one of the most singular, stunning songwriters ever to emerge from the Pacific Northwest—a place that permeates his music. In Black Wooden Ceiling Opening, Elverum applies his “organic” black-metal treatments to old and new songs of Mount Eerie, transforming raw acoustic numbers into ragged rockers. Live, expect him to ramble and improvise and render his songs almost embarrassingly intimate. Joining him are fellow Anacortes native and D+ collaborator Karl Blau, as well as Your Heart Breaks and Madeline Adams. (Vera Project, Seattle Center, 956-8372. 7:30 pm, $8/$9, all ages.)
Like life itself, this new play by local writer/director Scotto Moore is silly, in both the ancient (spiritually touched) and modern (frivolous) senses of that word. It is also serious (history has not changed the sense of that word). Set in an infinitely tall building—one that might resemble a new tower in Dubai or a tower Frank Lloyd Wright once imagined in a moment of madness—interlace is a tireless narrative machine that generates comic nonsense and cosmic concepts. (Annex Theatre, 1100 E Pike St, 728-0933. 8 pm, $12.)
I had a great time at Slog Happy last night, even though I somehow didn’t find the time to talk to nearly everyone I wanted to. I was glad to see the 30 or so advanced reader copies wind up in good hands, and I especially enjoyed seeing which books people chose to take home. Exelizabeth even proposed a drunken, angry bookclub, with video to be posted online. This is an interesting idea.
And, as per Pop Tart’s suggestion, if anyone wants to send me short reviews of the books they took, I’ll be happy to post them on Slog for all to read. (It’s pconstant@thestranger.com, and I promise to try to post your reviews in a timely manner, but I thank you in advance for your patience with the matter.) After all the free-book-taking carnage finished up, there were only two books left on the table:
I was kind of surprised that Near Death in the Mountains was left behind. It’s an anthology of terrible mountaineering accidents. Frankly, that’s not my kind of thing—as a reader, I find it really hard to muster any sympathy for people who climb mountains and then get in trouble because they’re on a mountain—but most people eat this shit up, right? Plus, according to the book’s website, the book even had these two classics of mountaineering accident narratives:
• Joe Simpson’s Touching the Void—An inspiring story of a climber who topples into a icy crevasse and, though crippled, starving and frostbitten, still manages to crawl to rescue.
• Jon Krakauer’s Eiger Dreams—Reaching the limits of his own climbing skills, the author makes a crucial decision whether to brave the treacherous higher altitudes or return to base.
Inspiring! Treacherous! What’s wrong with you people?
I’m not surprised that Unpacking the Boxes: A Memoir of a Life in Poetry by former U.S. Poet Laureate Donald Hall was left behind, but it makes me kind of sad. Not that I’ve read the book, but I tend to enjoy narratives written by poets. They’re very considerate and they read really pleasantly, as though the poet is almost relieved to not be writing in poetry for once. One really good example of this is Thomas Lynch, whose essays are among my favorites.
These two books will be sent away to the Island of Misfit Books, where they will frolic with used-up scratch-and-sniff books and self-published memoirs by pool cleaners. You are to blame for their sad fate.
The writers (and sometime Stranger contributors) 
Just because I think 
Last night, just before 11 pm, I was walking past the police station at 12th and Pine. As I passed the entrance, a man in a head-to-toe Carmen Miranda costume (complete with towering fruit turban) came storming out.
