Since it's printed in Yakima, a semi truck filled with tens of thousands of copies of The Stranger is sitting on the other side of the 10-feet-deep body of water that used to be known as I-5. We tried Snoqualmie Pass first (closed due to avalanche conditions). We tried White Pass (closed to mudslide). We tried air freight. We tried water. We tried throwing the phone at the wall and screaming at everyone the publisher could find at four in the morning.

But all is not lost: Today we reprinted the issue at the Seattle Times printing facility in Kent (no joke) and it will be on streets this afternoon.

Enjoy this week's paper. It was very expensive.

Lest the bummer events of the last few weeks have dimmed your memory, we had a big snowstorm last month! And although it caused temporary inconvenience (or worse) for some, it also gave Seattleites a chance to wander through streets uncrowded by traffic. In this week's web-only edition, Eli Sanders offers his take on Seattle's temporary culture of street joy—and what might be done to make it permanent.

It's messy, of course, this business of joy-ing in the street. During the snow, there were occasionally heated confrontations between sledders and drivers. And after the melt, things were literally messy on many of the party boulevards. On East Denny Way, for example, cardboard, mattresses, and other sledding materials were left on the side of the road for others to clean up.

Still, why not build on the better parts of this good thing and expand the city's street-closure program? We don't need to wait for snow to shut streets down, nor do we need to wait for summer.

Right now, Seattle's sanctioned street closures are confined to daytime hours during two months—August and September—and mostly to streets that are near public parks or beachfront. But other cities, including New York, have temporarily closed non-parkside streets to cars in experiments that Seattle claims to be emulating. So why not do the same here? And why not in months other than the two warmest months of the year? After all, there are good occasions for street revelry all year round, and a large number of streets in the city that are good candidates for temporary reappropriation.

Read the whole thing here.

Jonah Spangenthal-Lee and Dominic Holden Investigate the Circumstances that Led to the Chop Suey Shooting
"Midway through Seattle rapper Young Soprano's performance at Chop Suey on Capitol Hill on January 4, just after midnight, someone started banging on the club's backstage door. The show's host, Avery Turner, opened the door. Instead of another rapper, soundman, or security guard, Turner stood face to face with a young black man, dressed in black, wearing a black bandana..."

Charles Mudede on Hiphop's Inherent Violence (and Whether Chop Suey Should Keep Hosting Hiphop Shows)
"Because the shooting at Chop Suey happened during a hiphop show, it will be impossible for the public to separate the music from the murder..."

Dave Segal on Singers Who Need to STFU
"How many times over the years have you said, 'This band would be so much better without the vocals'? I for one have uttered those words too fucking often..."

Bethany Jean Clement Drinks at the Roanoke
"The potbellied stove glows through the slits of its eyes; firewood is supplied by customers with downed trees or access to job-site scraps. The big heater suspended in one corner—'that hairdryer,' the bartender says—stays quiet, and the place is toasty."

PLUS: Larry Mizell Jr.'s take on the Chop Suey shooting; Jen Graves on rape at the Henry; Dan Savage on getting raped by an ex; Dominic Holden on what he said when some Mormons showed up at his door; Papa Murphy's Pizza versus 'zaw; Lindy West on the year 1969; a rave review of The Wrestler; Brendan Kiley on the theater in the bathroom at the Hideout; an I, Anonymous about someone who's screwing his cousin; a new column by Mayor Greg Nickels; the sexiest Drunk of the Week in ages (NSFW); and lots more.

AND, ONLINE ONLY: Jen Graves responds to Emily White's piece in City Arts about Seattle Times and the state of arts criticism in Seattle; Paul Constant reads a book about FDR because Obama was reading it; and Erica C. Barnett on drunk drivers.

Distribution of this week's print edition of The Stranger has been delayed due to flooding, landslides, ricin, and the violence in the hiphop community. Meanwhile, here's the new paper online. Thank you for your patience.

The Internet is a precious natural resource and the Stranger is committed to conserving the Internet for future generations to use and enjoy. We can best honor that commitment by refraining from filling up the Internet with idle speculation. Because if we fill up the Internet with idle speculation then where will future generations get their porn?

Q: Where is the new Stranger on this overcast, hungover New Year's Day?

A: There is no new Stranger on this overcast, hungover New Year's Day—we hardworking Stranger persons took a vacation and made no paper, having made a Special Double Issue: Collector's Edition! last week (in his inimitable fashion, A. Birch Steen grouses about it/revels in it here). For your reading pleasure: an extraordinary, extra-sensory-perceptive, predictive-text Last Days (including a whole week in advance!), ongoing The Stranger Suggests, all the listings you require for the weekend, more 2008 Regrets than you likely care to read, and a brand-spanking new Savage Love. And here is your fresh New Year Free Will Astrology horoscope, friend. Mix up a pitcher of bloody Marys (bloodies Mary?). Go see a matinee. Happy ought-nine!

This week in Party Crasher, Visual Art intern John Borges goes to a bad sweater party.

It's snowing, my wet shoes are threatening to freeze, and my Plus One is already drunk. I dial the wrong call-box number but she lets us up anyway (Ballardites are friendly in the cold), and we arrive at the "Cheesy Sweater Christmas Party" promised by our Evite.

Introductions turn the unwelcoming glares into smiles, and I quickly learn that bad-sweater wearers from Ballard love The Stranger: "It has just the right amount of news!" It won't be easy to fly below the radar here. My Plus One understands that's not the point and commences yelling loudly and eating all the dip.

Do they get out alive and unswaddled in acrylic Christmas nastiness? Go read and find out.

Cover art by Ellen Forney. (For a gallery of all the covers Forney's done for The Stranger since 1993, click here.)

Bethany Jean Clement Investigates: Why Do Seattle's Hottest Chefs Want to Be the Boss of You?
"Are you ready to submit? Three of Seattle's top chefs—at the Corson Building, Spinasse, and Poppy—want to dominate you. They want you to give up control, to surrender to their will, in order (they hope) to please you in exponentially greater ways. They get vicarious pleasure (they hope) through what they impose on you: dictating what you're going to put in your mouth, who you're going to do it with, and/or how much you're going to pay for the privilege. In return for your submission (of your will, of the contents of your wallet), they promise things your average vanilla restaurant won't do."

Erica C. Barnett on How Dissent Among Viaduct Factions Only Helps Chopp
"The Great Wall of Chopp can still be beaten, but only if the people who oppose it—that would be just about everyone—can get together behind an option instead of bickering among themselves."

Charles Mudede Is Not Backing Down: Mad Rad Are the Future of Seattle Hiphop
"Mad Rad represent a new third wave of local hiphop. Whereas Seattle's first wave was based in the CD, the second on Beacon Hill, the next wave's epicenter looks to be Capitol Hill. More than that, as the first wave emerged in the Clinton years, the second in the Bush, Mad Rad's looks like it will emerge in the age of Obama."

Lindy West Ventures to Redmond to See Cheap Trick: Live at Budokan
"Did you know that Cheap Trick are my favorite band? ME FUCKING NEITHER. I learned a lot about myself at Redmond Town Center, it seems."

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: A house shaped like Mt. Rainier; the uncertain future of the Twilight Exit; local pony fetishists angry at one another; extremely cheap books that make for great gifts (or kindling); boyfriends who cheat on you; what Eric Grandy longed to hear when he was stuck in the snow with a dead mp3 player the other day; the best news Larry Mizell's heard all week; the high schoolers in gynecological-themed Issaquah band Masters and Johnson; Dear Science's answer to the question "Why does my mind suddenly, and often, flash back to random memories?"; a review of Meryl Streep's face; Theater Review Revue; and lots more.

Congratulations to all the winners of the eBay auctions!

If you won a Strangercrombie auction, then you probably got a message from eBay telling you about a party at the Showbox. However, that message is from a previous Strangercrombie (as in, like, three years ago), and shouldn't have been sent out. We very much regret the error.

So again, there's no party at the Showbox for the auction winners. I'm sorry. But you still get your prizes! Your glorious prizes!

Yay!

It couldn't have been at a better bar, with a better group of Sloggers—the Twilight Exit was perfect for last night's Slog Happy gift exchange/one-year anniversary. There was pool, there was a jukebox, there was a white, cloud-like dog running around... and there was, of course, plenty of chicken-fried bacon...

And lots and lots of presents.

I walked away with an autographed polaroid of Joh doing his best Matthew McConaughey impersonation. I'm holding on to it, it will be worth thousands in a few years. Other gifts included a "personal massager," an inflatable snake hat, zombie porn, a hand-knitted dick sweater, the new Gavin Rossdale CD, a bunch of L. Ron Hubbard books, an alligator cup cozy, a framed painting of a zombie, and so much more that I can't remember because it was a flurry of gift wrap and bacon and bows and candy canes and people hugging and laughing and being so much nicer in person to each other than they are in the comments.

Slog Happy + Holiday magic = big love fest.

What'd you get at Slog Happy? Also, what should we do for next month? It'll be the first Slog Happy of 2009!

Presents! Good shit too, like Lost Season 4 on DVD, some books that Paul promises don't suck, and PORN! Because every gift exchange has to have porn.

And I know you all love Paul and me very much, but we're not the only folks from editorial who'll be there. Christopher Frizzelle, Lindy West, Jen Graves, David Schmader, and Eric Grandy, are just a few confirmed guests.

Why else will this be the Slog Happy to end all Slog Happys (Happies?)? Let me just say... CHICKEN. FRIED. BACON.

See you at the Twilight Exit (2051 E Madison St) at 6 pm tonight!

It's not always easy to find a copy of the print edition of The Stranger in Bellevue, Issaquah, Kirkland, and Redmond. But we're expanding our distribution to those areas. We've got some ideas, but we want to know from you, too: Where do our readers in Bellevue, Issaquah, Kirkland, and Redmond think we should put Stranger boxes?

You're coming, right? Don't be shy! It's Slog Happy's one-year anniversary, so let's make it the best Slog Happy ever!

Because the Slog Happy gift exchange is tomorrow, and you don't want to show up empty handed!

6 pm, the Twilight Exit.

Yay presents!

And to celebrate, everyone's invited to the Twilight Exit tomorrow evening at 6 pm for drinks, deep-fried bacon, and presents!

If you've never come to Slog Happy, tomorrow is a great time to start—tomorrow's Slog Happy will have presents! You have to bring a present to participate in the gift exchange, but you don't have to bring anything too fancy. Think cheap, small, fun, and/or free.

And if you'd rather just come down, hang out, and skip the gift exchange, that's cool too! I just want to see your face. That's the best gift of all.

So, see you tomorrow night?

In today's post, about this week's Slog Happy, wigmore asks:

umm... whats an example of an appropriate gift for such a function? I am new to this whole x-massy thing. I'm recovering from a life as a "Christians-for-Moses". But I am two years sober with no relapses, i swear.

I think wigmore has an excellent question. What kind of presents are YOU bringing to the Slog Happy gift exchange? Maybe a mix CD of songs featuring past or present professional athletes? Bacon-flavored toothpicks? Lottery tickets?

Think cheap, free, or handmade.

I hope each and every one of you can make it! And presents for the gift exchange aren't required—if you just want to come down, drink and mingle, we'd love to have you.

Slog Happy returns to its original schedule, happening this Thursday, the second Thursday of the month at... are you ready for this? TWILIGHT EXIT!

Later this month the Twilight Exit will be closing up shop for a few days and moving to a new location, so we have to give the old space a proper goodbye! There's a lot of memories in those walls, after all.

And to go with the spirit of the holiday season, those who feel so inclined may bring a gift for a Slog Happy gift exchange. Make something, buy something for really cheap (like $5 or less cheap... we're in a recession), or find something in the back of your closet that you don't want anymore. Wrap it up all pretty and then bring it on down to the Twlight Exit on Thursday to exchange for something just as great, crappy, worthless, or wonderful! (The Stranger will also be spiking the pot with a few goodies, so you could walk away with a sweet prize!)

Gifts aren't necessary to participate—if presents aren't your thing, you're more than welcome to come down to drink, eat, and be merry. Your happy face is a good enough gift.

See you Thursday! 6 pm! At the Twilight Exit (2051 E Madison)!

Never let it be said that we at The Stranger won’t admit our mistakes. Case in point, this Strangercrombie entry:

Your 101 Dalmatians-Style Valentine's Day

Picture it: Valentine’s Day, you and your date at West Seattle’s Skylark Cafe & Club, delectating in spaghetti and meatballs for two (with salad and a bottle of wine, of course). Will the slurping up of an extra-long noodle lead to a blissful cinematic kiss? One thing is certain: There will be dessert. Then, stay for the bands or, you know, get a room! A $50 VALUE! OPENING BID: $1.99!

Obviously the scene described here is from Lady and the Tramp, not 101 Dalmatians. So it clearly makes no sense. What is a 101 Dalmatians-style dinner, anyway? Lots of dogs in the restaurant with you? This should teach us to never again enter into the world of Disney movies, where no adult should ever be forced to go.

Please note that Skylark Cafe, which donated this fine package, has no culpability in this and is a victim just like the rest of the reading public.

Find many more terrific Strangercrombie items here.

"I'm having déjà vu."

"Well, you know what déjà vu is, right?"

"Acid flashbacks?"

[More on déjà vu and its fascinating cousins, jamais vu and presque vu (plus special bonus info on l'esprit de l'escalier!), over here.]

This week's Party Crasher is an election hangover edition by Erica C. Barnett, about what politicians do when they're all done running for office, and when their side wins big:

A group of local politicos and city employees wanted to do something different to celebrate this year's historic Democratic victories. Rather than gathering at one of the usual political watering holes—Collins Pub in Pioneer Square, say, or Kells behind Pike Place Market—they decided to sing.

I had no idea politicians did this sort of thing, and I bet you didn't either. You should read the whole thing over here.

Jen Graves on adoption, race, silence, Barack Obama, and the changing American family.

In the world of transracial adoption, you don't have to look very hard to figure out why no one talks about this stuff. Federal adoption laws mandate silence. Social workers aren't allowed to talk to families about whether they already have black friends. They aren't allowed to tell families they might want to get some. Any of that would be seen, according to federal law written in 1996, as a violation of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. The 1996 law prohibits the placement of an adoptee on the basis of race, color, or national origin. Race does not matter, the law says. The American domestic child-welfare system is officially colorblind—or, more to the point, colormute.

Erica C. Barnett on the great wall of Chopp.

Armed with an hour-long PowerPoint presentation and a passion for his proposal that some observers say borders on the pathological, state house Speaker Frank Chopp seems poised to push his costly plan for replacing the Alaskan Way Viaduct—a $2.2 billion, six-lane elevated freeway that would be fronted by a sheer concrete wall—on to the legislature. Next month, the Alaskan Way Viaduct Stakeholders Advisory Committee will narrow the list of viaduct replacement options down to two or three; however, even if Chopp's proposal doesn't make the cut, the powerful house Speaker will almost certainly keep it alive.

Lindy West on Seattle Art Museum's Edward Hopper show and its frustrating wall text.

All the information SAM offers is about content. It is literary. Nothing is about composition. But what the fuck is the point of looking at a painting if you don't tell me anything about why it's a painting? Isn't composition kind of the entire point? Because without it, you could just tell me, "There is a woman sitting at a table," and we could sit there and talk about women in the workforce and the male gaze and whether or not we think this woman sitting at a table is sad and enjoying her fucking sandwich. What I would like to know about Edward Hopper's women is this: Why so many corners? Why is she over there instead of over there? Why is this shade of green the prettiest shade of green that ever greened?

Paul Constant on the Poet Populist, poetry on buses, and bad writing—plus, the best headline ever.

I know mocking someone who reads poetry aloud is rather like actively searching for someone with a weird sexual fetish—the ardent desire to dress up like a pony, say, and then be groomed by a member of the opposite sex—and then publicly mocking that person for trying to fulfill his or her desire in a discreet fashion. Poetry readers generally keep their compulsion to read poetry to the safe confines of poetry readings, and to seek them out and poke fun at them would be the most shameful kind of heartlessness. But the Poet Populist program actively involves us all in this very quest.

Angela Garbes on Bistro Turkuaz in Madrona.

Turkuaz is as warm and welcoming a restaurant as you could ask for: a long, railroad car–skinny room with just 10 tables, copper-colored punched-tin ceilings, crimson and yellow walls, blond wood floors. A tiny set of stairs in the back leads to the kitchen, where you can catch glimpses of chef Ugur Oskay preparing her soul-warming, garlic-laden, perfectly seasoned home-style Turkish food. The cozy dining room is presided over by Oskay's daughter, Dila Bizel, easily Seattle's most charming waitress.

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: "The Sword Rule—They're The Perfect Opening Act for Metallica" vs. "The Sword Suck—They're the Perfect Opening Act for Metallica", plus tons of other stuff in music; the Anonymous Review Squad in theater, in which (this week) legendary local theater artists review local theater projects anonymously, allowing them to say what they really think; Bethany Jean Clement on the virtues of Vermillion; Jonah Spangenthal-Lee on a dispute between neighbors in Magnolia; Dan Savage on rape-fantasy-related red flags; Mistress Matisse on Craigslist's new policy of charging for erotic services ads; Last Days; another round of Mormon jokes; and more, more, more.

"I think you guys should be nicer to Carl. He's new."

"I think we should take Carl out for a few drinks and then put him in a headlock."

This week's Party Crasher is by news intern Aaron Pickus. I have to say, I'm in love with Aaron's Party Crashers. Two weeks ago, for Halloween, he injected Party Crasher with a little bit of Poe:

It is Halloween. I am passing alone, on foot, through a singularly dreary tract of Green Lake. The wind murmurs through a construction site across the street from a house with a red-lit porch. There is an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart...

This week, he goes to a U District Sex-themed party, and he brings some de Sade along with him:

I know naught what will transpire in this nether place, but this I may say without doing my tale a disservice, that when the description of this party is given, the reader will react by discharging three times in succession....

You should read the whole thing.