The Stranger

Kalup Linzy is a burly black artist of drag who lives in New York City. "Artist of drag" means that he performs live and makes videos (most famously All My Churen and As da Art World Might Turn, spoofs of TV soaps) while wearing wigs and unitards, package fully showing. But it also means his art is based on falseness, on heightening the falsehoods we tell ourselves about who we are as men, women, white and black folks, artists and TV-watchers. Called part RuPaul and part Richard Pryor, he's in Seattle for one night only, in connection with Seattle Art Museum's Warhol show, and I hope he performs in addition to giving a talk. You have to hear his songs. Note to SAM: Get a hibiscus blossom and a smoke machine. (Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Ave, 654-3121. 7 pm, $6–$12.) by Jen Graves

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Do you like sexual and slightly French man-groans? Do you like playing football in a very small room with a leering man-child? Do you like the line "I gotta go see Michelle in a little bit, to make out with her"? Have you either not seen The Room yet or seen it a million times? Then get thee to the Egyptian. Ambiguously foreign person/auteur/aforementioned groaner Tommy Wiseau will be in Seattle this weekend, appearing at the screenings of his bizarre, beloved vanity project. The Room deserves to be seen drunk with a throng of like-minded trash lovers, and the opportunity to gaze upon Wiseau's actual face should not be missed. (Central Cinema is offering a personal meet and greet beforehand for $60. See www.central-cinema.com for details.) (Egyptian, 805 E Pine St, 781-5755. Midnight, $15.) by Lindy West

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Hempfest is fresh like the springtime. Hempfest refuses to fly tie-dye flags fashioned from sheets. Nary a waft of patchouli flies over the Febreze-scented paths of Hempfest. The most contemporary elements of Seattle's music scene are showcased there. At Hempfest, organizers grab every political cliché by the nuts, give it a good hard squeeze, and make it fight badgers. (Myrtle Edwards Park, 3130 Alaskan Way W, www.hempfest.org. 10 am–8 pm, free, all ages.) by Dominic Holden

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Modern shock comedy can't match the embarrassed awkwardness you experience watching a routine from the bad old days of naive casual racism. But when the hateful monsters you're watching are familiar friends like Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig, the shocks reverberate all the way back to your infancy. The most awful thing about these suppressed cartoons is that they're just as brilliant and hilarious as the ones you know and love—they just happen to smack you with the mind-boggling weight of America's systematic abuses, too. Prepare to wince even more because you're laughing. (Grand Illusion, 1403 NE 50th St, 523-3935. 7 and 9 pm, $8.) by Paul Constant

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As you obviously already know, The Expendables' cast is an action-hero supergroup—like the Traveling Wilburys of blowing up dudes' heads. Or the Jetsons Meet the Flintstones of knives meeting dudes' heads. You got your Stallone, your Statham, your Schwarzenegger, your Willis, your Lundgren, your Rourke, your Li, your Crews, and on and on and on and on and on and on into eternity (and then eternity BLOWS UP!!! Go America!!!). The movie is a wrinkly hootenanny of aging bravado and lumpy musculature and also some awesome musculature and also cocaine. This is some ridiculous shit. If you think you might like it, you will. If not, flee. (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by Lindy West

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The literal translation of ensalada fresca is "fresh salad," but what it means on the menu at Guanaco's Tacos Pupuseria is so much more. It means 16 ounces of light, sweet juice flavored with tiny cubes of apple, mango, and pineapple. It's served with a fat straw so you can crunch on the bits of fruit while you drink, and it's only $1.50. It's like bubble tea, but better—because unlike the gluey balls of tapioca, the fruit doesn't take on the texture of ABC gum. (You remember ABC gum, right?) (Guanaco's Tacos Pupuseria, 219 Broadway E, 328-6288, 11:30 am–9 pm; 4106 Brooklyn Ave NE, 547-2369, 11:30 am–8:30 pm.) by Megan Seling

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