Yes, the burgers are great. But, also, have you considered TINY WIENERS WITH FANCY SAUCE? Named after Matt Hickey?!
Little Hickeys! PEOPLE, DO YOU SEE WHAT THEY DID HERE?!
You will love this short film tour through the studios of the Eameses shortly after Ray died, and before they had to be dismantled. (Thank you, Tom.)
And then there is this classic, which travels mindbending distances in a single shot.
I wanna party with this guy sooo bad. No, really...
Warning: It is CUTE. Not too-cute, not not-cute-enough, but just-right-cute.
And when the mother of his 8-month-old daughter suggests he needs medication, he says she "needs a fucking bat in the side of the head." (He also blasts her as a "little girl with a dysfunctional cunt.")
Listen to Gibson go crazier than you've ever heard an Oscar-winning Hollywood star go before here.
Neither did Lindy West. Until she went to his show at the Admiral Theater in Bremerton last week:
At last, after two hours of his tedious, hacky, right-wing manifesto, Gallagher gets to the part his (willing) hostages have been waiting for. It's time to smash some shit. There are the watermelons, there is some cottage cheese ("It's got the curds that blow up, just like on the news!"), there is sauerkraut and syrup and honey. Then Gallagher gets a tin pie plate. He opens a giant can of fruit cocktail and pours it in. He opens a can of some Asian vegetable—water chestnuts, maybe—and pours that in, too. "This is the China people and queers!!!" he screams and takes his sledgehammer to the thing with a fury that is no fun at all. Wet chunks of China people and queers fly everywhere. The hateful, bitter old man laughs.
I cannot believe Bill Hicks is dead and this motherfucker is still touring.
Read the whole sad thing here.
Cornish theater grad wants to go to the Cannes Advertising Festival. (Really? Of all the places you could go, you want to go to the Cannes Advertising Festival?) The Chicago-based ad firm Leo Burnett (founded by the guy who came up with the Jolly Green Giant, the Marlboro Man, and Toucan Sam) agrees to send him if he'll perform any stunt sent to him via Twitter.
So the strategy is working—for now. I am watching him, I am blogging about him, and I am already bored with the idea before I've even finished writing the post. (That's the 21st-century news cycle, folks!)
But the live feed (and the Twitter commandment-widget) is here if you want to see what the boy does next.
Not his wife... until now.
Chris Simcox's wife is seeking a divorce and alleges in court documents that he twice brandished a gun and threatened to shoot his family in late 2009 - four years after he helped found the Minuteman movement that drew thousands of anti-illegal immigration activists to patrol the border.
Simcox worked recently as an adviser to J.D. Hayworth, who is challenging Sen. John McCain in Arizona's Republican primary. A Hayworth spokesman says Simcox is no longer affiliated with the campaign.
A judge in Phoenix ordered Simcox to surrender his guns and stay away from his family.
I'd name her Crazy-Eyed Killer.
But she's not my baby Boston Terrier, and so her name is Lulu.
UPDATE: Lulu's one paw away from finalizing a book deal! (See Paul's post below.)
As Lindy mentioned in Morning News, GQ has published Rielle Hunter's first public interview, in which she stands by her man and their "force field of love," talks about living a truthful life (when the man you love is lying about you on national television), and how to not emasculate your man (hint: never cross a room to him unless, assumedly, you're vacuuming).
In light of the continuing Andrew Young sex-tape business, and after four years of silence, Hunter's interview finally completes the narrative to this somewhat tired story. She's been labeled a manipulative hussy by Elizabeth Edwards and Young, among others, but in this interview she comes across as earnest to the point of being delusional. It's kind of sad, really. (She's also photographed pantsless on a bed of stuffed animals, which will go a long way towards quelling those hussy accusations.)
A few highlights from the 10-page interview:
When did Johnny start to tell you that there were problems in his marriage?
Well, I was aware of it from the get-go. He doesn't lie to me.
How can you be sure?
He doesn't lie to me. He discloses everything to me. And he has no fear of lying to me. Part of the problem—it's the fear of what's gonna happen that causes the lie. And the hiding. The fear of the repercussions. And, well, first of all, infidelity doesn't happen in healthy marriages. The break in the marriage happens before the infidelity. And that break happened, you know, two and a half decades before I got there. So the home was wrecked already. I was not the Home Wrecker.
So you have enough of a bond with him that, even though you know he's lied to his wife and his state and the country, you really never worry that he will lie to you?
No. He does not lie to me. At all.
... did you think he should be running for president?
Oh, no, I did not think he should run for president.
Because of you?
Because of his entire life. Here's the most interesting thing. He had already been vetted for a vice presidential campaign. And he had a lot of problems going on that nobody knew about. So no, I didn't think he should run. And I said that to him. But I also said that if he felt it in his heart that this is his path and what he needed to do, that he should wait till April. Because I thought he was going to have a very hard January, February, and March. And it turned out he did have a very hard January, February, and March.
Why did you think that?
Um, just based upon intuition. And my small knowledge of astrology. [laughs]
Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on here?
h/t: gUAPO gESTAPO
On January 6 at 10:18 a.m., school staff at Franklin High School called 911 to report an assault on a teacher by a student, according to a Seattle police report. The teacher had gone home for the day due to being "very emotionally distraught." Apparently the incident escalated over collateral for a pencil. The police report states:
[The student] had no pencil and wished to borrow one. As per classroom policy, [the student] had to hand over an item of value as collateral. He gave over his cell phone. He then proceeded to fall asleep in class. When he woke up the pencil had gone from his desk. He went to ask for his phone back anyway. [The teacher] refused. The suspect became very agitated. He demanded his phone back and swept items from the [teacher]'s desk. He then went into the desk drawers and began to look for the phone. The [teacher] took the phone and left the classroom walking toward the office. The [student] followed the [teacher] and kicked her left foot in an attempt to trip her.
The student, who, according to the police report, had also given a written statement to school security (not quoted in the report) was taken into custody. After being read his Miranda rights, police say, the student confirmed that "he had attempted to trip the teacher but was unsuccessful."
The police report also states that "officers attempted to contact [the teacher] by phone but were unable to do so." WHY NOT? THEY KNOW SHE HAS A CELL PHONE.
New York Times's Jodi Kantor with a long, interesting magazine piece on the first marriage.
Is it just me, or…
Are you perplexed by trannies? Fret no more—two hot transsexuals graciously answer all of your invasive questions, including
What’s your real name?
Have you had surgery?
What does your real voice sound like?
Are you a he or a she?
Thanks for the tip, Ethan.
What the fuck, babies? What's the matter with you? You aren't hungry? You think food is a joke? Milk doesn't grow on trees, babies. I mean, why even bother eating? Why bother eating that milk if you're just going to firehose it all over daddy's mustache? Do you think mustaches grow on trees? He spent a lot of time on that mustache, baby. Growing it, combing it, trimming it, stroking it. Now it's full of your sour stank stomach milk and there's no washing that shit off. You are an inconsiderate peasant and if I could take back that peekaboo game you roped me into in line at Safeway yesterday I WOULD. Babies.
From: Julie Cascioppo
Date: July 23, 2009 1:55:13 PM PDT
Subject: Hello from Julie Cascioppo, one of Ballards Finest Treasures!
Susan Hutchison—the King County Executive candidate who refuses to admit she's a Republican—has now refused to fill out a NARAL questionnaire about her stance on abortion and women's reproductive rights in general, instead issuing this nice bit of evasion:
In lieu of the NARAL questionnaire, I provide this statement which I have provided as well to those who represent themselves as Pro-Life.
The issues surrounding abortion are not relevant to the King County executive race. This is the most divisive issue in America today, with strongly held opinions on both sides. I am not in this race to divide, but to bring people together to solve the complex problems of our county regarding the economy, jobs, transportation, budget deficits, land use, sewage, public safety and growth.
That said, I will uphold the laws of the land.
She appears to have no understanding of the role the county plays in providing health care to women.
Why am I not feeling brought together with people?
More from NARAL after the jump.
Even though he clearly sold his soul when he took the job of Miss California USA pageant director, you kind of have to feel for this Keith Lewis character.
Last Friday, April 10th, I celebrated a birthday on the balcony of the Elite. Later, upon perusing my loot from that boozy evening, I was horrified to discovery a bag containing the presents belonging to another individual, named "Josh," who as fate would have it was celebrated his birthday on that very balcony, on that very same evening. Inquiry to the Elite staff only yielded the information that yes, he had asked about his wayward loot, but sadly did not leave any contact information.
Here is where the trail grows cold. Perhaps a slogger out there knows this Josh? From the contents, I can tell he's a drinker, dog owner, and possibly into pictures of women's buttholes. I'd hate to think that someone would survive the trials and tribulations of this past year and come out the other side with no shwag to show for it. If someone can describe the bag or its contents, I'll happily return it.
Josh, are you out there?
And re: the Elite, Stranger reader-reviewer dc.al.coda declares:
In a city with no "can't-miss" bars, this is arguably the best gay bar of the moment in Seattle. In their old location (N end of Broadway), they appeared to cater to 50something alcoholics and the parolees who love them. In their new location (Olive & Summit, near the also newly-relocated and also mixed and also fun Bus Stop), the trainwrecks are vastly outnumbered by cute, happy, 20- to 40-somethings, male and female, gay and hipster and gayhipster (gaypster?).
The last time I was at the Elite, it was full of hale, handsome soccer players who'd just come from a game in which one team played topless, the other bottomless(-ish). Everyone was having a great time.
UPDATE! Josh has been found!
ZOMG, that's my bday booty that I've been sadly missing. And to clarify, I don't like women's buttholes.
And now man and birthday bag will be reunited. Slog is, truly, a beautiful thing.
The former Union Square Grill in downtown Seattle reopens tonight as The Lost Lady American Cantina. Texas restaurateur Dale Wamstad bought the restaurant from Consolidated Restaurants Inc. (owners of the Metropolitan Grill and Elliott's Oyster House) earlier this year. Wamstad previously founded two national chains: Del Frisco's Double Eagle Steakhouses and III Forks (that's "three" Forks, not "ill" Forks). He sold his stake in Del Frisco's to start III Forks, then sold III Forks in 2000, according to the Dallas Business Journal.
Also in 2000, a lengthy article in the Dallas Observer detailed Wamstad's past lawsuits, "bitter business partners," and an altercation with his ex-wife at one of his restaurants in 1985 in which she shot him three times. Wamstad then sued the Observer for libel, saying his reputation had been damaged. Lawyers for the Observer successfully argued that Wamstad was a public figure, and the libel case was dismissed. (According to The Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, the court said, "Through his promotion of his family man image in his advertising over the years, Wamstad voluntarily sought public attention, at the very least for the purpose of influencing the consuming public. The continuing press coverage over the years showed that the public was indeed interested.")
Details on the shooting from the Dallas Observer:
The purse on the sofa held the .25-caliber semiautomatic pistol her husband had given her two years earlier to protect herself when she closed the restaurant at night alone. As Rumore exited the restroom, she heard a loud slam. Wamstad had burst through the front door. He demanded that Theresa open the front door and he pushed a briefcase in her face. Lena told him to stop. "Then he screamed, 'You fucking bitch, what do you think you're doing closing and putting that sign out there?'" Lena says. "And he hurled the briefcase at me, and I mean with force."
She pleaded with Wamstad to let her explain what had happened, but he came at her again. She reached into her purse and pulled out the gun.
"He kinda laughed, 'You fucking bitch. You better use it on me, because if you don't use it, I'm going to kill you with it,'" Rumore recalls. "He started coming close, like he was going to take it from me. So I fired."
Rumore fired four shots before the gun jammed. One bullet missed. Another went into Wamstad's jaw, while a pair of slugs entered his back. He moaned. She screamed and dialed 911.
The police didn't arrest Rumore.... On July 16, 1986, Lena Rumore was found innocent. The judge ruled that she had acted in self-defense.
One of Wamstad's lawsuits—one he instigated—involved Ruth's Chris Steak House founder Ruth Fertel. Again, from the Observer:
Wamstad sued Ruth's Chris for slander in 1994 after the restaurant's newsletter suggested that the Knife and Fork Club of America, which produced a Top 10 list of steakhouses, was really a front for Del Frisco's. Del Frisco's regularly appeared among the top three on the list. Wamstad admitted in a civil suit deposition that he paid the producer of the list, Thomas J. Horan, more than $60,000 between 1989 and 1994. The suit was later settled....
Wamstad has demonstrated a flair for the dramatic, per the Observer profile:
...Wamstad created a little family to inhabit his grand steakhouse crowned with a 24-carat gold-leaf dome that stretches 55 feet into the air. He invented for himself the character Capt. Bob Cooper, a 257-year-old cross between a North Texas trading-post pioneer and the skyjacker who slipped away with a $200,000 ransom payment by parachuting from an airliner over Washington state in 1971. Capt. Cooper maintains his youth because he drank from the Fountain of Youth 200 years ago in East Texas, or so went the spin.
According to a press release (reprinted here), Wamstad grew up in Spokane and is moving to Seattle to run the Lost Lady American Cantina. The restaurant's website features "The History of the Lost Lady," a tale of the origins of the name from a ship lost at sea between Astoria, Oregon, and Seattle in 1915.
While Wamstad "plans to create a theatrical setting" for the Cantina according to the press release, the former Union Square Grill's faux-Deco interior appeared largely intact at the invitation-only opening party on Saturday night. At the height of the two-hour event, the bar was packed; banana, blackberry, and prickly-pear margaritas were served. An appetizer buffet included cheddar and pepperjack cheese, as well as an unusual cold hors d'oeuvre of a whole-wheat tortilla wrap containing pickles, tomatoes, and a mayonnaise-type sauce. A squadron of female waitstaff, wearing red wrap-front tops and belts with golden rings, served fajita platters in the dining rooms. One server said that the fajitas would be followed by a lobster course; another later said, "There was an idea about lobster, but it never came to fruition."
Wamstad declined to be interviewed for the 2000 Dallas Observer article. Calls to the Lost Lady American Cantina and to the public relations firm seeking Wamstad's comment have not yet been returned.
Baby fight! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!
It's so hard to be a [foreign] baby.
Update: In case you had trouble following the storyline of this video—and to preserve it before it is stricken from the record forever—allow me to direct you to the masterful play-by-play currently on "Dur dur d'être bébé!"'s Wikipedia page. After the jump.
Ummmm... too soon?
Wow. I'm sitting here, watching Bush fly out of the White House, and Barack enter. Such a glorious day, regardless of what you think of Bush. Barack... definitely a new era in U.S. History. I, personally, am quite excited.
Anyhow, that's not why I'm writing.
Any word on coverage for Sweet Water's CD release show for "Clear The Tarmac", February 7th at Neumo's? Let me know, thanks.
PUBLICIST NAME/FIRM REDACTED
Let's begin with the opening lines of Lawrence Vambe's remarkable history of pre-colonial Zimbabwe, An Ill-Fated People.
Almost as soon as you began to be able to absorb facts and to recognize human and animal forms you saw dogs everywhere. There was an infinity of dogs, little, big, tame or vicious dogs whose physical condition largely depended on what they could sniff and scavenge out of the village garbage heap rather than on the generosity and animal-loving nature of their masters.
Now, let's isolate (or bracket) and give thought to this line: "...the generosity and animal-loving nature of their masters." What type of generosity is this? The generosity that we find in a dog owner has its cause in the curious human need for something that is needy. Humans have the need to be needed. The dog owner needs the dog's neediness. And the dog is loyal because its needs are met by the owner; and the owner's need for being needed is satisfied by the dog's complete dependence. And the more the dog depends on the master, the more love it gets from the owner. This is why certain dog owners often compare the care of a dog to the raising of a child—a child has nothing but needs. And the only thing we can fully trust is a thing that gives us all of its needs.
A person whose worst fear is betrayal is the sort of person who owns a dog.
Once the relationship between the dog and its owner is established, there is a strange development. The dog owner allows the dog to take control of more and more of his/her life. But this reward of control is in the context of the exchange of needs—the need for being needed that is satisfied by the absolute neediness, the dog. (Cats are not needy.) So, when a dog owner says, "I do not walk my dog, the dog walks me," this is the need for being needed in its state of freedom. Because the dog has surrendered all of its needs, it is permitted to dominate the need that needs its neediness.
The end result of this domination finds its expression in the dog owner picking up his/her dog's shit. For many of us, picking up dog poop during walks in the park or the city street is the very reason why we do not own the creature. We have no access to the pleasure of being fully needed. (We prefer cats.) Indeed, the owner of the dog wants us to see him/her picking up the poop. The visibility of the lowly act adds to the first pleasure—being dominated by the need the feeds your neediness. Everyone knows it's disgusting, and the dog owner knows that what they are doing disgusts others, but they are indifferent to our disgust because all they see in this picking up (a raw aufhebung), and what they want us to see, is an absolute love of the thing that needs it absolutely. Holding the poop in his/her hand, the dog owner is showing us the power of this love. We cannot love like them. The dog owner's love is beyond us.
Now hanging, on the internet, What Your Senior Portrait Says About You.