Open wide the doors of smug self-satisfaction and loose the floods of hypocrisy! The brainless peons at The Stranger have doffed their pretend-journalism caps—while leaving their smut-peddler caps planted firmly on their soft skulls—and churned out yet another Strangercrombie catalog on the ridiculous assumption that Stranger readers have compassion and/or disposable income.
In theory, Strangercrombie is a "charity auction" (which of course is hippie-speak for "shameless tax dodge") that benefits abused children and homeless people. In practice, it is an excuse for staff photographer KELLY O and known-homosexual DAVID BELISLE to wrangle a menagerie of inebriated models into a room to besmirch the last family-friendly holiday in America. The very cover of the catalog features a Christmas wreath as some sort of ghastly access portal to bared female breasts—although perhaps one should applaud Miss O for the noteworthy effort to include photographs of women in the pages of The Stranger, instead of the traditional eerily slight man-boys favored by Dan Savage?—and the to-be-auctioned items include satanic products such as marital aids, vegan cookery, and a drink with Mayor McGinn. If you feel strongly about either of the chosen charities, I urge you to donate directly to them without encouraging The Stranger's immoral proclivities. There is a hoary cliché that applies here, something about two wrongs not making a right. Do not encourage them.
The other lengthy attraction in this issue involves almost everyone on staff (note that in a rare moment of honesty, the staff is referred to as a band of "know-nothings") attending the Picasso exhibit at Seattle Art Museum and writing about it. This is supposedly clever, you see. Picasso was a "cubist" (which is pretentious shorthand for "person who does not know how to draw"), and this is supposed to be a cubist study of the artist's work. Instead, the 12 writers provide the usual laundry list of swear words, inane observations, and "insights" that they normally apply to their various disciplines. Short version: Who cares?
Speaking of apathy: ADRIAN RYAN apparently has a column hidden somewhere in the bowels of The Stranger—how appropriate, that placement!—titled "The Homosexual Agenda." This week, he promotes a protest against the good people of the Washington State Liquor Control Board at an infamous homosexual drinking establishment and pornographic-film screening room called the Eagle. This is the second week in a row that The Stranger has risen to defend the Eagle (I ignored Christopher Frizzelle's lame diatribe last week because I refuse to review tear-stained memoir, which places all of Frizzelle's work firmly on my do-not-read list), and this means it is time for the city to shut the Eagle down once and for all. If the tiny Mr. Ryan flounces to your defense, you deserve whatever punishment you get.