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Friday, September 22, 2006

I'm Baaaaaack...

posted by on September 22 at 1:47 PM

LondonRed.jpg

I'm dragging ass—jet lag is a bitch.

I was in London last week with my boyfriend our son, DJ. We were there to see the Scissor Sisters' show in Trafalgar Square—that's a photo of Nelson's Column taken during the show—and it was a fucking trip. I don't have the most reliable taste in popular music, so I wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that I liked the band's new album, Ta-Dah, as much as I did. Jason/Jake, the band's lead singer and an old friend (and, why yes, I do take total credit for all of his success), gave us an early copy of the new album five months ago, and I've been listening to it non-stop since. So it was reassuring to be in a crowd with, oh, twenty thousand Brits clapping and screaming for each one of the band's new songs.

The after-party was, if anything, even trippier than the concert. Since we had been hanging out with Jason for a couple of days we hung back at the party. We wanted to let him schmooze and, you know, be the triumphant chart-topping pop star that he is. But Jason dragged us into the VIP area—not entirely against our wills—and I wound up sitting in a booth, DJ on my lap, with Jason, Kylie Minogue, and David "Mrs. Elton Johnā€¯ Furnish. Our booth quickly reached gay critical mass—so thank God DJ is such a little straight boy. His presence was all that kept the club from imploding.

The Scissor Sisters are playing the Showbox in Seattle on October 2 and 3. Info and tickets here.

Anyway, it's good to be back. Did I miss anything?


Thursday, September 21, 2006

Sober Robert

posted by on September 21 at 4:27 PM

In the past, and not too distant past, I've had drinks with Robert Jamieson, at the Mecca on Queen Anne. He was a good drunk, so it's sad to learn he is now no longer one of us. He is now one of them--those awful people who believe that the source of all their problems was in a bottle and not already in themselves. As the great John Lyly once said: "What is in the heart of a sober man is in the mouth of a drunk one."

The sober are cut from the same cloth as the saved. In the way the saved never stop going on about how they are now saved, the sober can not stop going on about how they are now sober. What is in the mouth of a sober or saved man is, evidently, not in his heart. But, Robert, not all drunks are violent, reckless, and sleep in Pioneer Square (and besides, I would much rather be a drunk in Pioneer Square than a sober man in Spanaway). If you can't handle liquor, fine. Just don't make a virtue out of your weakness, your flaw, your inability to do what the rest of us can easily manage.


White Lady vs. Red Bull

posted by on September 21 at 3:39 PM

It's cocaine for kids, in guzzling form!

Cocaine_436x600.jpg

Via The Daily Mail:

The high-energy drink is being billed as a "legal alternative" to the class A drug, using a massive hit of caffeine instead of cocaine.

Cocaine is "350 percent stronger than Red Bull" but that people do not experience the "sugar crash" or jitters that [the drink's inventor, Jamie Kirby] says some of the other energy drinks can produce.

The company has received inquiries about selling Cocaine in Britain and throughout Europe. At the moment it is being sold only in the Los Angeles and New York metropolitan areas - mainly to teenagers.

Plus, unlike snorting real cocaine, which is tacky and graceless, you can funnel Cocaine directly into your tear ducts to stay awake. Grand Theft Auto IV: San Andreas has never before felt so real...

Kirby says, "...it's a fun name. As soon as people look at the can, they smile." But critics slammed the technique as a cynical ploy which could tempt young people into using drugs.

It doesn't tempt young people to use drugs so much as teach teens that drugs can be stimulating and fun. America's youth needs more teachers like Cocaine and perhaps Tiny Tinkerbell's My First Douching and Whimsical Pussy-Hair Sculpting Kit.

Cheers to good grooming and efficiency!


When RSS = Random Shutdown Syndrome

posted by on September 21 at 10:43 AM

This morning my brand new MacBook shut down, randomly, for no apparent reason. This seemed a bad omen and I mentioned it to a tech-savvy friend who, in short order, discovered a whole universe of people with the same problem.

He also discovered a cryptic acknowledgment of the problem from Apple.

And then, of course, there's the YouTube video of Random Shutdown Syndrome, which is about as entertaining as watching video of Brad Steinbacher eating a sandwich, but heartening, I guess, in that "someone else has my problem" sort of way.

Wondering if your cute new MacBook has Random Shutdown Syndrome? Here's a simple test that might tell you.

Now Is the Time to Be Alive

posted by on September 21 at 10:41 AM

Not only is Showgirls being turned into a musical, Michael Jackson is reportedly planning to build a leprechaun-themed amusement park in Ireland.

They Sent It to Us

posted by on September 21 at 10:31 AM

From the Against The Grain Festival, which "reframes traditional views on men and dance."

Approximately one in ten dancers in our North American culture is male. As the minority in this profession, men have sometimes struggled to find their voice. The Against The Grain Festival allows them the camaraderie and the opportunity to celebrate their art with pride while serving as a diversified role model for the male dancers of tomorrow.

Blondes Have More Fun...

posted by on September 21 at 10:21 AM

But lesbians have more orgasms.

(And blonde lesbians have the most plentiful and funnest orgasms of all..)


Wednesday, September 20, 2006

It's Funny Because It's True

posted by on September 20 at 2:47 PM

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All praise to Jake.


Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Meet the Car Your Kids Will Drive

posted by on September 19 at 1:27 PM

GM's ingenious fuel-cell powered Highwire:

The Drug War Heads to YouTube

posted by on September 19 at 9:30 AM

And the Associated Press counts down the minutes until people start turning the government's anti-drug YouTube ads into YouTube spoofs.

The decision to distribute anti-drug, public-service announcements and other videos over YouTube represents the first concerted effort by the U.S. government to influence customers of the popular service, which shows more than 100 million videos per day...

"If just one teen sees this and decides illegal drug use is not the path for them, it will be a success," said Rafael Lemaitre, a spokesman for the drug office.

"Welcome to the great experiment," said Lee Rainie, director of the Pew Internet & American Life Project. He predicted computer-savvy critics of U.S. drug policies will quickly edit the government's videos to produce parodies and distribute those on YouTube.

Pot-heads, start your search engines...


Monday, September 18, 2006

Zulu Ubermensch

posted by on September 18 at 2:43 PM

A chilling echo of Roskolikov is in this murder.

Man Eater

posted by on September 18 at 1:47 PM

It's now time to give Anna Nicole Smith a little thought.
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She is our Shiva. She is the universe. As the universe creates and destroys; she creates and destroys. It is an awesome power. The men who get too close to her breath, breasts, body are vaporized like bones in a furnace.

Granted the billionaire, J. Howard Marshall II, she married in 1994 was 89, and so his death, which almost immediately followed their marriage, seems hardly surprising. But what about the billionaire's stepson, E. Pierce Marshall, Smith's courtroom adversary? He unexpectedly died in July at the age of 67. And then, even more unexpectedly, her son dropped dead at only 20. Age doesn't matter when it comes to Smith. Which is why the distance between her and the dead billionaire, or even between her dead son and newborn daughter, was so great. With Smith, the male order of grandfather, father, son is voided.

Smith's son came into the world with nothing and left nothing in the world. He has been entirely consumed by his life-devouring/life-giving mother.


A dangerous combination?

posted by on September 18 at 11:00 AM

I drove up to Olympic National Park this weekend, passing through all those little towns on the other side of the Sound where gas stations are decorated with huge wood carvings of lumberjacks and eagles and roadside restaurants have friendly names like "Fat Smitty's." My favorite sight though, came in Port Angeles -- a town of 20,000 whose unique mix of rural life and seeping Seattle influence is embodied by this store:
guns'n'coffee.jpg

What really won me over, though, is the sign on the other side of the place:
tellusajoke!.jpg

This place gives whole new meaning to a double shot latte.


Friday, September 15, 2006

Re: What are you proud of your parents for?

posted by on September 15 at 4:00 PM

I am proud of my mother for many reasons. She is hilarious. We are best friends. I was raised in her (adorably freakish) image. BUT, I am especially proud of her defunct blog I am Eating My Husband's Soul (she's on husband #3), which she abandoned because everyone in my family has the attention span of (sexy) little gnats.

Nothing has ever made me laugh quite so much.

Notes From The Prayer Warrior

posted by on September 15 at 10:54 AM

It's been quite a year for the Prayer Warrior.

In May he alerted his followers to a medical problem that sounded like it involved bleeding eyes; in July he injured his chest on a propane tank and not long afterward reported six cracks in five ribs; later that month, he claimed to have been the victim of identity theft; in early August, threats against his life required prayers for a "protective hedge" around his house; in late August, he made a vague reference to his blood counts being down; and today he sends word that he's heading back to the doctor for another blood test.


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Please pray for me as I go for another blood test today. First of all, that my numbers remain down, and second, that a vein will be easily found. It is usually quite an ordeal to find a vein, with multiple tries!!

Your Pastor,
Hutch

Any doctors or medical students out there want to take a stab at a diagnosis?

What Are You Proud of Your Parents For?

posted by on September 15 at 10:00 AM

I would simply like to announce that my father, Matt Graves, was the number-one handicapper (he picked the greatest number of winning horses—93—of all the writers at the Albany Times Union in Albany, N.Y.) at Saratoga race track this summer.

I called him for comment.

"Why do I have to say I'm proud of it?" he said. He was characteristically curmudgeonly, already on a liquid diet as preparation for a routine colonoscopy. "What the heck should I say? Merry Christmas, everybody."

He did say that 93 was a far cry from the all-time record for any handicapper at Saratoga, which is 141, and held by ... Matt Graves.

It is, by the way, no small feat either that my mother, Marilyn Lance, this formidable, endlessly energetic, and beautiful lady right here (the one on the left), was New York State Teacher of the Year five years ago. She spent her entire, unglamorous career in the teensy, trashy town of West Sand Lake, N.Y., teaching the rural poor, a segment of the population that never seems to get any attention or funding, and she pioneered a team-teaching, social-mentoring project for her kids, plenty of whose parents and grandparents she'd taught, too.

OK, these are big things, so maybe not the most welcoming start to the "What Are You Proud of Your Parents For?" survey. Therefore I will downshift.

My dad can name that tune very, very quickly.
My mom eats lemons whole.


Thursday, September 14, 2006

Cute Fire Hydrant Appreciation Post

posted by on September 14 at 12:45 PM

tommyhydrant.jpg

I found him last night. I named him Tommy.

You can visit him downtown at First and Seneca.

Helmet? How About a Wig?

posted by on September 14 at 12:05 PM

A friend of mine heard this radio show the other night and it made him think of Dan's post last month asking: Where Did All the Helmets Go?

Dan got quite a Slog scolding for even suggesting that life might be more comfortable without a bike helmet on, but it turns out, at least according to this researcher at Bath University in England, that it might be safer not to wear a helmet.

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In a study to be published soon in the journal Accident Analysis & Prevention, Dr. Ian Walker finds that:

Drivers pass closer when overtaking cyclists wearing helmets than when overtaking bare-headed cyclists, increasing the risk of a collision.

Dr. Walker was hit by a bus and a truck while conducting his study, which involved him riding around England on a bike equipped with an ultrasonic distance sensor, sometimes wearing a helmet and sometimes not (and sometimes wearing a wig).

He found that drivers were as much as twice as likely to get particularly close to the bicycle when he was wearing the helmet.

Across the board, drivers passed an average of 8.5 cm (3 1/3 inches) closer with the helmet than without.

He also found that large vehicles, such as buses and trucks (and, oddly, white vans in particular), pass closer to bikers than cars.

The average car passed 1.33 metres (4.4 feet) away from the bicycle, whereas the average truck got 19 centimetres (7.5 inches) closer and the average bus 23 centimetres (9 inches) closer.

However, there was no evidence of 4x4s (SUVs) getting any closer than ordinary cars.

Previously reported research from the project showed that drivers of white vans overtake cyclists an average 10 centimetres (4 inches) closer than car drivers.

But here's the most interesting finding:

To test another theory, Dr Walker donned a long wig to see whether there was any difference in passing distance when drivers thought they were overtaking what appeared to be a female cyclist.

Whilst wearing the wig, drivers gave him an average of 14 centimetres (5.5 inches) more space when passing.

The moral of the story: If you fucking hate your helmet that much, Dan, you might consider riding in drag.


Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Salon of Shame & Lindsay Lohan's vagina--tonight!

posted by on September 13 at 4:01 PM

Between frittering the last days of my early 20s away at Burning Man (I will never get that week back, Nevada you arid succubus) where I spent countless hours staring at festively decorated vaginas, penises, etc, and celebrating my 23rd birthday at the boner tornado called Hump! by watching the interplay between even more vaginas, penises, etc, I have been fist-deep in vaginas, penises, etc. for weeks.

The novelty wore off quick. I became apathetic to the sight of genitals doing their business. I even began washing myself with a rag on a stick. But then today I saw Lindsay Lohan's vagina. There was a unicorn peeking out of it. The sight was enchanting. Thanks Perez!

In other news, tonight is my favorite bi-monthly event, The Salon of Shame. Doors open at 7:00 pm, show starts at 7:30 pm. It also promises to be an enchanting sight, as it is coincidentally held in Lindsay Lohan's vagina (make room, unicorns and paparazzi!). Or The Rendezvous in Belltown. I forget. Either way, the event will sell out within minutes, so come early. Bring $5 dollars and your applause.

The Position of Being

posted by on September 13 at 11:50 AM

The problem with cognitive science and cognitive philosophy is not so much mental content but position in the world. Where one is as opposed to what one is. Where one is, is everything. William Gibson and, more recently, cognitive scientists who still maintain that the brain is a computer and that consciousness is merely epiphenomenal--the froth on the sea of computational processes--demote the body to "wetwear" and contend that consciousness can be transported from one system of life (be it organic) to another (be it in organic--robotic or, in the case of the last Cartesian, Gibson, the internet). In sum, consciousness can be re-embodied or disembodied. But that does not answer or address the ultimate position factor of consciousness--the fact that the awareness of being is fixed. It happens here and radiates from that point. The question, then, is this: If the head of a robot is filled with every experience I have, and thereby is identical in every way to me, to the way I think, and yet I am alive at the moment it downloaded my life's information, would I see the world from two points of being? Meaning, would I become conscious in the robot as well as in my own body? Or would it, the robot, be a completely different person whose experiences are identical to my experiences? Something in us knows that I would not see the world from two points at the same time, and that another person with my being would be in the world. This must mean identity (consciousness) is primarily positional and cannot, without a complete split of the personality, jump states of embodiment. Book after book on cognitive science fails to recognize the basic problem of the position of being in the world.


Tuesday, September 12, 2006

San Francisco Gets Pot-Friendlier

posted by on September 12 at 1:51 PM

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Local pot activist and Slog tipster Dominic Holden alerted us to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors' consideration of a city ordinance much like Seattle's blessed I-75, which would make the majority of San Francisco's marijuana violations "the lowest law enforcement priority" for city police.

According to the SF Chronicle:

"[Supervisor Tom Ammiano's] nonbinding ordinance directs police to essentially ignore all marijuana crimes except those involving minors, driving under the influence of the drug or the sale of marijuana in a public place....If passed, the ordinance would commit the city to refusing federal funds intended for the investigation or prosecution of marijuana offenses. It also would prevent a federal agency from commissioning or deputizing a city police officer for assistance in such cases."

Full story here.

Just Say No to Nursing

posted by on September 12 at 11:58 AM

Charles is baiting the commenters—unsympathetically coming out against boys crying and such like—and I want to get in on the action.

So: While I'm for boys having feelings, up to and including feelings that make them cry, I am strongly opposed to the nursing of infants in public. I believe, as Barbara Walters does, that nursing is unsightly and that innocent passersby should not be required to look on infants being nursed. And I say this as a parent—a parent who not once nursed in public.

My officemate, Bradley Steinbacher, disagrees. He believes that women should nurse openly, if only to increase the number of bared breasts on public display.

"Even swollen, chewed-up breasts?ā€¯ I inquired.

"Yes,ā€¯ Brad responded, "even those.ā€¯

Discuss.

The Lord Giveth, the Lord Taketh Away

posted by on September 12 at 11:33 AM

Three days after she gave birth to a baby girl, Anna Nicole Smith's 20-year-old son, Daniel, died.

Ouch.

"A Venti of Fucking What?"

posted by on September 12 at 11:01 AM

I spent last weekend in Vancouver, attending its fringe festival and staying in the cheap, conveniently located, and charmingly bizarre Shaughnessy Village, which was like staying on a boat. The rooms are tiny, like cabins, and the place is decked in nautical kitsch, from the model boats to the non-functional portholes everywhere to the shuffleboard (shuffleboard) to the, uh, uncircumcised sculptures.

Folks in Vancouver were maddeningly polite, except for a refreshingly cranky—and vulgar—cafe owner who had posted this sign on his espresso machine:

cafe sign.jpg

(The smaller note at the top says: "Unrully [sic] or unsupervised children may be given a free double espresso.")

"You like that sign?" the owner asked. My friend and I said yes, that we were from Seattle, that we thought it was funny. "The coffee industry is fucking bullshit," he growled. "It so fucking pretentious. I mean, venti, in Italian, means twenty. So you go over there and ask for a venti and they'll ask: 'A venti of fucking what?' It's ridiculous. You know what I mean?" We said we did.

But the most memorable thing in Vancouver—more striking than the socialist architecture, the procedural politeness, and the over-the-counter codeine in the drug stores—was this tag, which we saw in several places:

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Re: And What is This?

posted by on September 12 at 10:08 AM

Hey Charles, what about gay men? Are they allowed to cry?

I had no idea what was making him cry, but no matter what the cause—a scolding from mommy, the death of his furry pet, humiliation from an older brother—nothing is bad enough, worthy enough for a young (or old) man (and I only speak for men) to cry about.

And what about butch lesbians? Or transgendered people? Your rule against male tears relies on a pretty out-dated conception of gender, and gender-roles.

And What Is This?

posted by on September 12 at 9:35 AM

As I prepared to leave my apartment earlier this morning, my ears heard one of the worst sounds in the universe: a young man crying. Through the living room window I saw the pathetic subject (between 11 and 13) crying as he waited for a school bus. I had no idea what was making him cry, but no matter what the cause--a scolding from mommy, the death of his furry pet, humiliation from an older brother--nothing is bad enough, worthy enough for a young (or old) man (and I only speak for men) to cry about. I come from a culture that allows men to hold hands as they walk. That is totally acceptable. But to collapse into tears like a Greek actor? How can you do such a thing and hope to maintain a strong will of mind, a will against a world that is at every moment trying to overwhelm you? The best thing we can teach our boys is to cast on their moments of grief an icy eye or shatter them with laughter but, no matter what, never retreat into the imbecility of overemotional, overloud tears.


Monday, September 11, 2006

Child Stardom Misery

posted by on September 11 at 12:52 PM

While composing my column, research led me to this sad, sad story.
l3755.jpg Out of the five boys in the image, the bassist in the red shirt is the one marked for death. England is a bitch.


You Haven't Read Susan Sontag's Diary Yet?

posted by on September 11 at 11:39 AM

Get on it!

Full thing to be published in "2008 or 2009" by FSG. Confidential to FSG: Get on it!

Good Morning, Heartache

posted by on September 11 at 12:22 AM

From the little Vietnamese girl fleeing her napalmed village to the hooded hostage of Abu Ghraib, images that make the tragedy of war achingly tangible have become a regular part of modern life.

This morning brings another such instance, brought to my attention by Slog reader Trevor, and summed up in two heartbreaking words: "Flat Daddies."


Friday, September 8, 2006

Brad & Angelina Fight the Good Fight

posted by on September 8 at 2:11 PM

Not only are they freakishly beautiful, they're brilliantly evolved: According an interview in the forthcoming Esquire, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie won't be getting married until the United States' marriage laws aren't riddled with bigotry.

"Angie and I will consider tying the knot when everyone else in the country who wants to be married is legally able," says Pitt in an Esquire profile hitting newsstands on Sept. 19.

I understand, deeply, the urge to mock everything celebrities do forever, but this is huge. They're two of the biggest movie stars in the world, and they're willingly bringing the battle over gay marriage into their own hyper-privileged, heterosexual lives. This is celebrity deployed for as good a purpose as any, and I love them for it.

Full Breitbart story here.


Thursday, September 7, 2006

Help Wanted

posted by on September 7 at 1:19 PM

The creator of A Brief History Of Time is looking for an assistant student to help him prepare lectures and assist with scientific papers.
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The right candidate will get an opportunity to work for an year or two with the professor of mathematics at Cambridge University, and can take home a thick paycheque of Ā£22,774.

Wednesday, September 6, 2006

Randy Hilfman Spells Defeat

posted by on September 6 at 3:43 PM

I skipped Bumbershoot on Monday night to congregate with the hardened orthographers at the third Seattle Spelling Bee. After last month's poor showing, I had little hope of returning to the form that won me second place in the first bee. Then I pulled off my greatest feat of spelling to date:

C-I-C-I-S-B-E-I-S-M

The Oxford English Dictionary definies "cicisbeism" as "The practice of attending a married woman as cicisbeo." With adorable though misleading chastity, the OED claims that a cicisbeo is a woman's "recognized gallant." At any rate, my correct spelling elicited the evening's biggest round of applause. More importantly, it extended my lead over the hitherto unbeatable Randy Hilfman.

The notoriously difficult third round had eliminated all comers aside from me. Only three contestants out of twenty managed a single correct word. Alas, Randy earned a spot among those three in grand fashion: he spelled his first two words correctly to pull into a tie for the lead. Then he made short work of "enceinte" (a French word meaning "pregnant") to claim his third consecutive title.

Had I managed to spell "nannofossil," I'd have had a chance. If Randy Hilfman weren't among the more pleasant people I've ever met, my wrath would have been justified. All I could do was drop my jaw and remember what losing pitcher Don Hendley said after Sandy Koufax's 1965 perfect game: "It's no disgrace to get beat by class."

-Andrew Bleeker


Tuesday, September 5, 2006

Midwestern misnomers

posted by on September 5 at 5:17 PM

It's the end of the day, so I was looking up how to spell "misogyny" on the internet dictionary. In searching for my word, the computer also returned this fun list of similar words:

1. misogynist
2. misogynists
3. misogynies
4. misogynistic
5. misogynic
6. misogamist
7. magazinist
8. Missouri City
9. Michiganites


Monday, September 4, 2006

I'm in Berlin

posted by on September 4 at 4:36 PM

Where the street food is fantastic, the early-fall light is idyllic in the late afternoon, the ambulance sirens sound straight out of a 1950s film, and the transit system is phenomenal but, like every other indoor space in the city, strangely overheated. (If anyone can explain to me why everybody wears multiple jackets here, even in 75-degree weather—frequently supplemented by boots, scarves, and fleece hats— e-mail me, please). It's lovely and urban and gritty here, especially in neighborhoods like Kreuzberg , where I'm writing from an Internet cafe called Cafe Mir. (The waitress has been particularly encouraging of my pitiful gestures at German, but I can tell she's only humoring me).

For the first few nights, we stayed at the UfaFabrik—a slightly threadbare "intentional community"-turned-"international center for culture and ecology" that offers an impressive cultural and educational program, including a circus, outdoor theater, school, adult-education classes, and cafe. (They also have acres of green roofs and extensive clean-energy and recycling programs.) Like many institutions founded the 1970s, the UfaFabrik has seen better days (many members of its "core group," which got together in 1972 and occupied the patch of land in the Tempelhof-Schoneberg district of Berlin in 1978, still live there) but it's charming in its rundown way. And I like the idea that living "ecologically" doesn't always necessitate going "back to the land"—the neighborhood it's in is resolutely urban, dense and graffiti-covered as the grittiest part of Berlin.

It's not just the transit that makes cities like Berlin work, although it does make our puny little 14-mile light rail line look pretty pathetic by comparison. (There are also bike lanes everywhere, and you really will get run over if you walk on them, as I learned from several near-misses today). It's also the incredible heterogeny of cultures in every neighborhood, the wide sidewalks and tall buildings, and the vast array of public and private outdoor space. Just about every building facade conceals a large interior courtyard, and many of these courtyards contain cafes, art spaces, clubs, and other cool stuff. Most of the bars and cafes here include large outdoor areas, often on the sidewalk, despite the fact that Berlin, like Seattle, gets a lot of rain. (It's also significantly colder in the winter.) So what's our problem?

One possible reason for the difference, although it hardly explains it on its own, is the fact that Berliners have a relaxed (one local called it "nihilistic") attitude toward alcohol consumption and nightlife—much unlike Seattle. No one here appears to worry that allowing sidewalk cafes will encourage illegal drinking (one reason it's hard for bars in Seattle to get a permit to use the sidewalk, or, conversely, for sidewalk cafes to get a liquor license); in fact, everywhere you look are people schlepping down the street drinking beer. The doner kebap stands even sell small (375-mL) bottles of vodka and Jagermeister along with the ubiquitous Turkish sandwiches.

But there's something else going on, too: People here seem to have a different attitude toward urban life than we do in shy Seattle. Outdoor seating is oriented toward the street, the better to enable people-watching and interaction. Awnings are omnipresent, making it possible to sit on the sidewalk without worrying about the weather. And even in the seedier neighborhoods, people are out at all hours, putting "eyes on the street" and making things feel relatively safe even when the walls are covered with anti-capitalist graffiti and even with a 17 percent unemployment rate. (As far as I can tell, there's no state-mandated closing time.)

And the food? you ask. It's excellent, thanks. Since arriving, I've consumed my weight in sausage, beer and Turkish meals; according to my guidebook, Berlin has the largest Turkish population outside Istanbul.

I'll probably post more later, but for now, I'll leave you with this photo I took of a machine selling small toys for 20 cents. Steve Jobs, consider yourself warned: Someone in Berlin has it in for you.


Friday, September 1, 2006

Lonelygirl15. Idoru.

posted by on September 1 at 3:35 PM

Don't know if I'm late to this 21st Century pop story about
Bree and Daniel the faked reality TV show subterfuge on YouTube starring Bree (or lonelygirl15 ), an existential homeschooled girl with strict strict parents.

But I just read about it (in BusinessWeek), and it's weirder than that page that comes about half way thru every Philip K. Dick novel where you're not sure if you're the android reading the book in the book.

I've pasted in the BusinesWeek article below in case the link above didn't work.

Continue reading "Lonelygirl15. Idoru." »

A Note On American Christianity

posted by on September 1 at 2:27 PM

The main problem with postmodern American Christianity is that it's no longer about faith. It is now objective and social, whereas faith, by definition, is a personal commitment, a personal resolve. No one has to know your faith; it's not necessary to share your belief in God and His salvation with other souls. By acting according to the standards set by Jesus, and praying in complete silence, you can live a Christian life. In fact, as one existential philosopher pointed out, there is really only one Christian in the world--the one who knows, by heart, that he/she believes in God. As for others, who but God knows what is in their hearts? But American Christianity has, particularly since the rise of Reagan, abandoned personal faith and relentlessly, even ruthlessly, pursued its externalization, pursued the mad dream of transforming what is personal into a social system that requires subjects (or consumers) to show their belief, to put it on display. What American Christianity wants to see is a spectacle of faith, a theater or soap opera of commitment. The soul, which is dangerous because it is essentially silent, is not the place for red state religion; but, instead, the clothes one wears, your hairstyle, your house, neighborhood, books, movies, political party, mall--all of this stuff, which one must buy into, is the locus of American Christianity. The silence of faith has been replaced by the noise of testifying. Your own personal Jesus has been replaced by the Moral Majority. Kierkegaard's leap of faith has been replaced by the fresh breath of Testamints.

TSA: Transporting Smooth Anal?

posted by on September 1 at 2:02 PM

Over at Wonkette, they've noted that while the TSA banned traveling with all creams and lotions (including Neosporin and lip gloss) after the London liquid bomb scare, for some reason they'll make an exception for 4 oz of "personal lubricant". That's right! You can bring your sex lube with you! I'm glad TSA has its priorities straight -- what could suck more than scrounging around for hotel pharmacy lube while you're on a romantic getaway? Babeland even sells lube in convenient 4 oz bottles.

Also note that wedged between "tweezers" and "toy weapons" on the TSA Prohibited list is a category okaying "toy transformer robots" in carry-on luggage. Did Hasbro pay them off for product placement, or was this really a big issue in the 80s?

Counting the Days Till the Demise of Dubya

posted by on September 1 at 1:35 PM

The Stranger's been counting down the days till the end of George W. Bush's presidency since the start of his world-imperiling second term. (Look below the title on the front cover.)

But thanks to Three Imaginary Girls' Dana, here's a way for everyone to bring the end-of-Bush countdown into their homes: The Election Day Advent Calendar.

"Does it have chocolate inside?" wonders Dana. "Do regular Advent calendars have democracy inside? No? Well, these don't have chocolate, but maybe next time they'ill have gum or fruit leather. Hope this is useful."

It is.

The Lifeguard

posted by on September 1 at 11:01 AM

The daughter of the dead woman found on East Jefferson Street by a lifeguard--the police report was in the August 10-16 issue of my Police Beat column--has contacted me about how she might contact the lifeguard and thank him for trying to help her mother. If the lifeguard wants to accept her thanks, he can email me at charles@thestranger.


Thursday, August 31, 2006

Summer Reading Cheating at the White House

posted by on August 31 at 11:23 AM

Local blogger Boom wonders: Is Bush cheating on his summer reading list?

There is mention of a contest between Mr. Rove and Mr. Bush, to see which of them will read more books this year. There are a lot of professional media outlets writing about this contest, and including a part of the Bush's complete reading list for the year in their articles.

I got curious about whether Bush has released previous reading lists and did a little online poking around. Last summer, the Guardian UK and other sources made mention of his three-title 2005 summer reading list. The three books [were] Salt: A World History, The Great Influenza, and Alexander II: The Last Great Tsar. These three are all also mentioned on the list for books he's read in 2006, as part of that "contest" with Rove. I doubt he's read them twice.

One possibilty is that he started them in August of 2005 and didn't finish any of them until January 2006, but that raises the question of how he has since completed the 57 additional titles listed in his contest record in the last eight months. Does "books read this year" include "books barely started" and "books intended to be read", as well as "books previously read"? And of course, the fact that I found this mystery in about two minutes makes me question why no one at any of the places (CNN, US News and World Report, etc) who reported on this supposed contest bothered to check the list this way.

Is Bush cheating on his reading list? Will Rove make him forfeit the contest? What does his librarian wife believe should happen to people who cheat in summer reading programs? Why can't the press be bothered to do a little fact checking on official media releases?