The Stranger Vol. 22, No. 51 by Noisy Creek

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STUDY GUIDE

Questions for The Stranger, Volume 22, Issue 51

1a. This is the beginning of CHARLES MUDEDE’s long article about pigeon feet: “My story begins with a pigeon trying to get laid.” Write five first sentences to a feature story that are more compelling than Mudede’s first sentence. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

1b. The next time you’re walking around Seattle, take note of how many mangled pigeon feet you see. Do you believe Mudede is exaggerating the number of disfigured pigeons in Seattle when he estimates that one in seven pigeons have deformed feet?

1c. If you believe Mudede is exaggerating that number, please explain how an actual newspaper would punish Mudede for publishing untrue facts in its pages. Why do you believe this will not happen at The Stranger?

2. Moving on from the unmitigated buffoonery of Mudede’s piece, MAGED ZAHER has authored a piece about the recent unrest in Egypt. Why, in your opinion, didn’t Zaher publish this essay at a “real” newspaper? Do you think it’s because Zaher is a finalist for the Stranger Genius Award in literature, with a potential prize of $5,000? Isn’t this some sort of extortion?

3. CIENNA MADRID reviews a new book by a local memoirist named Nicole Hardy. It’s an unfavorable review. Given that Madrid has written personal essays, and given that Madrid does not have a book deal, how much of her disdain for Hardy’s book do you believe can be attributed to jealousy? How much can be attributed to envy? Is there a difference between jealousy and envy? Why or why not? If so, which word best applies to Madrid?

4. When it comes to Hempfest and DOMINIC HOLDEN, things could not get more complicated. Holden served on the board of the festival for years, until he got work at The Stranger, whereupon he began slagging on the festival’s poorly designed posters and potfueled antics at every opportunity. He even did battle with Hempfest over the marijuana legalization initiative last year (Holden was for it, many Hempfest supporters were against it), often resorting to base name-calling when it came to describing Hempfest’s organizers. Now Holden has written a piece about how Hempfest is absolutely vital to a post-legalizedmarijuana Seattle. At what point in his long and labyrinthine history with Hempfest did Holden simply decide to become, in internet parlance, a troll? Remember to support your theory with factual evidence, unlike Holden.

LAST DAYS

The Week in Review BY

DAVID SCHMADER

2013

MONDAY, AUGUST 12 This week of Egyptian bloodshed, Canadian snakes, and the single worst website launch in history kicks off in Seattle, where a morning bus ride became the site of deadly mayhem. Details come from KIRO, which explains that the route 27 Metro bus was stopped on Third Avenue near Union Street when three men boarded at the back and refused to pay their fares. Then all hell broke loose. As witnesses told KIRO, the bus driver asked the trio of men to pay up, after which a fourth man, who was not part of the group, yelled, “War,” and started shooting. Driver Deloy Dupuis, 64, was shot in the arm and the cheek, and the shooter—31-year-old Martin Duckworth—fled on foot. After reportedly trying and failing to hijack a car and firing an unsuccessful shot at a pursuing police officer, Duckworth sought refuge on another Metro bus, where he was promptly gunned down by cops, who fired 13 rounds through the bus’s windows. Rushed to Harborview, Duckworth was soon pronounced dead, while the 14year veteran driver Dupuis was treated for his injuries and released that evening. “I feel quite

To submit an unsigned confession or accusation, send

Please remember to change the names of the innocent and guilty.

lucky,” said Dupuis to KIRO. Condolences to all, and thank God it wasn’t worse.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 13 Speaking of idiots wreaking havoc with guns, the week continues with a story out of Ohio, where this past weekend 26-year-old Michael Piemonte was attending a concealed-carry gun class with his wife, Alison. “Such classes are required for anyone wanting [to] carry a concealed weapon in the state,” reports CNN, describing a lecture-type class attended by 29 students, with Piemonte and his wife sitting in the front row. “While the instructor was demonstrating self-defense techniques, the gun went off. The bullet struck Piemonte in the arm.” “It took me a couple of seconds to realize that I had been shot,” Piemonte told CNN, which reports the shooting has been classified by police as accidental. “I’m just glad my wife did not get hit.” Us, too. (Dear everyone: Please complete this thematically apt Mad Lib–type situation and e-mail the results to lastdays@ thestranger.com: “Getting shot by a gun-safety instructor is like getting [BLANKED] by a [BLANK]!!!” Best entries here next week.)

TMake Art! Win Cash!

he Stranger and the Portland Mercury invite amateur filmmakers, actual filmmakers, porn stars, porn-star wannabes, kinksters, vanillas, and other creative types to make short porn films—five minutes max—for HUMP! 2013. Films selected for HUMP! 2013 will be screened over three weekends in November in Seattle, Portland, and Olympia. HUMP! films can be hardcore, softcore, liveaction, animated, rough, tender, kinky, vanilla, straight, gay, lez, bi, trans, genderqueer—anything goes at HUMP! (Almost anything: no poop, no animals, no minors.) HUMP! films are not released online or in any other form. Filmmakers retain all rights. HUMP! does not retain copies of the films once the festival is over. HUMP! lets you be a porn star for the weekend—not the rest of your life!

THERE ARE NO ENTRY FEES FOR HUMP! THERE ARE PRIZES! BIG ONES!

Three ﬁrst-place prizes and one grand prize are awarded at HUMP! by audience ballot.

Best Humor: $1,000 First Prize, $250 Runner-Up

Best Sex: $1,000 First Prize, $250 Runner-Up

Best Kink: $1,000 First Prize, $250 Runner-Up

Best in Show: $5,000 Grand Prize

Extra-credit items for 2013: bowling pins, butt plugs, and Hillary Clinton (Include one or more of these items in your ﬁlm, and you get extra points!)

NORTHWEST PASSIVEAGGRESSION GOES PUNK

To the asshole in the punk rock band that played recently at the Comet: about the giant fucking beer you hurled as hard as you could that pretty much hit me right in my heart. Throwing full cans of beer at people isn’t cool or punk rock or anything more or less than physical assault. I appreciate the fact that you apologized (thanks for the beer!), but I fear you’re going to continue on acting like this shit is okay. What if I smashed one of your loved ones in the face with a full beer can? What if I caused permanent damage? What if I killed them? Or, fuck it, what if I just threw it as hard as I could and it hit them in the heart and no real damage was done? I’m assuming this is how your band usually operates, and if that’s the case, you’re goddamn lucky you haven’t really hurt someone. I hope that this reaches you, and that maybe you’ll get that your band can still have a sense of danger in a live setting without actually hurting people. —Anonymous

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 14 In virtualer news, the week continues on the internet, where today brought a second great day of pointing and laughing at Bustle.com, the would-be game-changing feminist website launched by the doofiest doof ever to raise $6.5 million for the world’s doofiest idea. Details come from The Stranger’s blog, Slog, where Megan Seling feasted on Bustle.com’s instantly legendary editor’s note. Take it away, Megan: “Yesterday Bryan Goldberg, founder of Bleacher Report, announced that he has launched a new website called Bustle, which is going to do what ‘Jezebel, Refinery29, and PopSugar’ do, but with a profit. He says he ‘aims to completely transform women’s publishing’ and has hired ‘talented women with experience at Entertainment Weekly , Glamour, Daily Beast, and Seventeen’ to lead the editorial team… Don’t worry, he’s not going to be a voice on Bustle—he’s leaving that to the women. As Goldberg says, ‘My job, as CEO, is to hire the right people. My job is to know a lot of engineers, editors, venture capitalists, and salespeople—and to bring them together. Knowing the difference between mascara, concealer, and eyeliner is not my job.’ Oh for fuck’s sake, dude. Seriously? … It’s absolutely absurd that Goldberg would find it necessary to march himself out onto the stage to congratulate himself for daring to transform women’s publishing only because he was able to convince a bunch of rich dummies to give him money. By doing so, he’s set Bustle up to fail—now its writers will have to work extra hard to overcome the burden of being looked at as the pet project of a clueless CEO who is clearly just trying to profit off of feminism.” Thank you, Megan, and attention, everyone else: Fill out this thematically apt Mad Lib–type situation and e-mail the results to lastdays@thestranger.com: “A douchey male doof launching a feminist website is like a [BLANK] [BLANKING] A [BLANK]!”

THURSDAY, AUGUST 15 Nothing happened today, unless you count the deadly horror that continues to unfold in Egypt, where, as the New York Times reports, “The

ALL SUBMISSIONS DUE BY SEPTEMBER 30, 2013. For more details on entering HUMP!—technical requirements, release forms, etc.—go to humpseattle.com.

Questions? E-mail us at

death toll surpassed 600 on Thursday from Egypt’s bloodiest crackdown on supporters of its deposed Islamist president, as violent new protests erupted in the country and world condemnation widened, including an angry response by President Obama and calls for a suspension of European economic aid.” (On Sunday, CBS News will report that Egypt’s body count has surpassed 900. Ugh.) For a personal take on the siuation, see page 13.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 16 In better news, the week continues with the ridiculously gratifying news that Scott Lively—the antigay US pastor who’s devoted his life to writing books about how Hitler’s Third Reich was composed entirely of gays and supporting antigay bigotry around the globe—has been ordered to stand trial for crimes against humanity. Details come from Joe Morgan at Gay Star News, who reports that Lively’s troubles stem from his alleged engineering of a Ugandan law that makes homosexuality punishable by death, which plays a part in the persecution, arrest, and murder of gay people in Uganda. “A Ugandan LGBTI advocacy organization filed a lawsuit… [that] states Lively collaborated with key Ugandan government officials and religious leaders [in what] allegedly resulted in the introduction of the ‘Kill The Gays’ bill,” writes GSN. “In 2007, Lively also toured 50 cities in Russia where he is accused of recommending a ban on ‘gay propaganda.’”

When Lively’s lawyers sought to dismiss the lawsuit, they were shot down by US District judge Michael Ponsor. “Widespread, systematic persecution of LGBTI people constitutes a crime against humanity that unquestionably violates international norms,” said Judge Ponsor. “The fact that a group continues to be vulnerable to widespread, systematic persecution in some parts of the world simply cannot shield one who commits a crime against humanity from liability.”

SATURDAY, AUGUST 17

The week continues with what is suddenly one of the most

pressing issues of our day: What the fuck’s up with Canadian snakes? Hot on the heels of last week’s story of the young Canadian brothers fatally strangled in their sleep by a python that escaped from a pet store comes this week’s story of the 40 pythons found in a Canadian motel room. Details come from the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which tracks the story to the Bell City Motel in Brantford, Ontario, where this past Thursday, police discovered the 40 snakes divided between five plastic storage bins. “The snakes belonged to a local couple who stayed at the room for only one night,” reports CBC. “Paul Sizer, a guest in a neighbouring room at the motel, told CBC News that the couple had five young children with them, including a baby.” The motel-room pythons have been seized by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but Canada’s snakepocalypse seems far from over: “Also Thursday night, animal control officers in Hamilton recovered a four-foot-long ball python in bushes in the city’s east end,” reports the CBC. “It was the second ball python found abandoned in the city in a week.”

SUNDAY, AUGUST 18 Nothing happened today, unless you count the continuation of the first Hempfest of the legal-pot-in-WashingtonState era or another glorious Seattle summer Sunday that totally earned its name.

Send hot tips and Mad Lib submissions to lastdays@thestranger.com. (And follow me on Twitter @davidschmader.)

Throw full cans of beer at THESTRANGER.COM/SLOG

Facing Eviction

Nickelsville Campers Have Less Than Two Weeks to Leave, but Their Numbers Are Only Growing

BY ANNA MINARD

The city has been clear: In less than two weeks, Nickelsville’s 175 residents are supposed to leave their homeless encampment in a West Seattle ﬁeld or be evicted.

the decision made back in June, when the Seattle City Council directed Mayor Mike McGinn to kick all squatters off the cityowned property, where they’ve been camping illegally since May 2011. Posted on a utility pole out front, a sign warns campers: “NOTICE OF ENCAMPMENT CLOSURE: This site will be closed to shelter and storage effective 9/1/2013.”

But instead of residents ﬂeeing, pilgrims are arriving every week. It’s getting bigger. So what’s going to happen?

On a recent sun-seared afternoon, John Jolly, 39, played tour guide to Nickelsville, where he’s lived for the past three months. “It’s been a blessing having somewhere to go where you’re not alone,” he said while walking through rows of tents and structures, surrounded by thickets of blackberry bushes. About 80 to 100 campers called Nickelsville home in June, but Jolly estimates there are now around 175. The Union Gospel Mission (UGM), contracted by the city to work with Nickelsville residents, puts that number at 125.

But anti-encampment council members are not happy with the swelling population. As Council Member Tom Rasmussen wrote in an e-mail to colleagues in late July, “I am alarmed that more people are being allowed to move onto the site… It will mean that by

Finally Punishing a Bad Cop

The County Ofﬁcer with the Highest Record for Misconduct Complaints Gets Demoted

BY DOMINIC HOLDEN

Sergeant Patrick “K.C.” Saulet has been the subject of more complaints than any other cop in the King County Sheriff’s Office—including a complaint filed by me this month—and finally, his superiors are demoting him.

The breaking point came on December 9, 2012, when a man named Louis Landry, following errant directions from a GPS system, mistakenly drove his family car into an off-limits area of the Convention Place transit station with his pregnant wife and 18-month-old daughter. According to Landry, a seven-year veteran who served in Iraq, they were stopped by a hostile Sergeant Saulet, who allegedly said, “I could send you to jail. I could send your wife to jail. I could even take

That was

the deadline the Mayor has agreed to there may still be people living in Nickelsville.”

But the growth shouldn’t surprise Rasmussen. When the council decreed an eviction, it also allocated $500,000 to UGM to help the camp’s residents move into other housing or shelters. Some people may be showing up to take advantage of UGM’s services (funded by the city), and Nickelsville’s population has historically swelled in summer. As a general rule, Nickelsville doesn’t turn new people away—they’re not about to start now. Unlike emergency shelters, Nickelsville accepts couples, families, and people with pets.

Police ripping down tents is not a pretty photo op during election season.

Terry Pallas, the men’s ministries director at UGM, said his organization was “never asked, nor is it our place” to block new campers.

UGM’s most recent report says that they’ve moved 24 people from Nickelsville into various housing options since they started work there in June. Pallas said he is “encouraged by the progress that we’ve been able to

away your daughter.”

That was too much for King County sheriff John Urquhart, who was elected last November, and he decided to demote Saulet to deputy.

“This is the ﬁrst time I have taken away someone’s stripes,” said the sheriff when reached by phone. The move is “very, very uncommon.”

However, the demotion is about more than this so-called courtesy violation; Saulet has “at least 120” misconduct allegations, Sheriff Urquhart wrote in an August 7 disciplinary letter obtained by The Stranger via a records request. The next closest sergeant has only 23 misconduct allegations. And of Saulet’s many complaints, 20 have been sustained. Yet the incidents persisted, despite misconduct investigations in 2001, 2003, and 2011 that resulted in corrective counseling. The decision to demote Saulet from the rank of sergeant to deputy—along with a $16,000 cut to his base salary—indicates that Sheriff Urquhart is willing to issue harsh discipline for cumulative misconduct, rather than judge each case as a stand-alone grievance.

For what it’s worth, Saulet also threatened to arrest me last month when I took photos of ofﬁcers on public property [“Hostile Policing,” Aug 7]. My complaint against Saulet resulted in one of two current investigations against

to “stand our ground here.” make. But it’s just a drop in the bucket.”

The reality of a growing population reveals Council Member Rasmussen’s naiveté. Of course more people would move to Nickelsville, either to use the services he and his colleagues authorized for them or for the community that Nickelsville offers. Furthermore, it’s unrealistic to think a one-time infusion of cash will end homelessness, or even house everyone in Nickelsville by September.

So what will happen? It’s Mayor McGinn’s job to direct a teardown of the camp—city workers and police evicting a ﬁeld of people from their only homes, ripping down tents, possibly arresting people who refuse to leave. Not a pretty photo op during election season.

Asked if the mayor would enforce the deadline, McGinn spokesman Aaron Pickus refused to answer directly, but said, “Right now, our primary focus is working with folks to ﬁnd a new site for Nickelsville.”

The city allows churches to host

him that could result in future misconduct ﬁndings. However, the initial recommendation to demote Saulet for the Landry complaint was made in June, before my incident.

In the blistering eight-page demotion letter, Urquhart notes that Saulet “dealt with the Landrys in a manner that was discourteous and demeaning; that escalated or threatened to escalate a situation for no apparent reason.” He warned that “any future conduct violations will be treated very seriously, and depending on the circumstances, could result in termination.”

It’s an encouraging sign for a sheriff’s department that received a scathing audit last summer for ignoring misconduct complaints and downplaying discipline. On the ﬂip side, this case may again prove that the powerful police union, called the King County Police Ofﬁcers Guild, can overturn the demotion by appeal, as it did in 2008 with Saulet.

Saulet has 120 misconduct complaints.

encampments, but the city council recently rejected a bill to permit organized encampments in certain nonresidential areas of the city. This means any nonprofits that want to host encampments must partner with religious organizations. With the help of the Low Income Housing Institute (LIHI) and the Church Council of Greater Seattle, Nickelsville is working to find three new sites to accommodate their numbers by the deadline. And they’ve found at least one, a lot owned by LIHI on South Jackson Street near 20th Avenue South. The second and third sites remain elusive, setting up a possible showdown over Labor Day weekend. If Nickelsville can find places to relocate legally before the deadline, they’ll certainly do it, said Jolly. “But if not, we’ll just have to stand our ground here or start this all over again somewhere else.”

Daily news on your mobile phone at THESTRANGER.COM/SLOG

but said, “I don’t speak for the guild.” A call to the guild went unreturned, but during an investigation into the December 9 complaint, guild president Steve Eggert backed up Saulet, saying, “Sometimes we need to take a strong stand, even harsh, with people and raise our voice to get compliance,” according to Urquhart’s letter.

For his part, Saulet denied the arrest threat allegation. But the sheriff’s letter to Saulet states: “I found Mr. Landry’s statement far more persuasive than your denial.”

For now, Saulet has been removed from Metro transit duty and is assigned to patrol Northeast King County responding to 911 calls.

Urquhart predicts that the King County Police Ofﬁcers Guild will ﬁght the decision,

Although he’s still on the street, it’s encouraging that Urquhart seems to be taking the right approach to discipline: looking at an officer’s complete record. To me, it seems unlikely that Saulet could have been fired for this singular incident. He didn’t violate anyone’s constitutional rights or inflict bodily harm. A demotion based on a bad track record is likely the most that can be expected. And if the demotion holds, then there may be grounds to fire Saulet if another complaint is sustained against him (which seems inevitable to me), and that should be sufficient to crowbar him off the force permanently.

JOHN JOLLY AND SADIE Willing

KELLY O

Does Hempfest Matter Anymore?

BY DOMINIC HOLDEN

Last weekend, when Hempfest planted its green butt on the downtown Seattle waterfront, lots of folks asked: Does Hempfest matter anymore? Now that Washington State has legalized marijuana and the cops are giving out Doritos, even stoners wondered, what’s the point of a gigantic rally that, at least purportedly, is about legalizing pot?

I went to Hempfest. I didn’t smoke any pot. So what was it that made me think Hempfest is more important than ever?

A few times a week, I pass a faded mural in the International District that reads “Another world is possible—drug-free.” It’s a throwback to an addictive idea from the 1980s and ’90s that this could be a “Drug-Free America.” But a drug-free nation—let alone a drug-free world—is objectively impossible.

Still, the underlying message of our recent landmark drug-policy reforms has been based on the idea that all illegal drug use is a scourge that can and should be mitigated. Take the potlegalization initiative that voters passed last fall. It was a historic accomplishment, but its messaging was based on cutting off money to cartels and regulating the pot market to reduce its harm. I don’t begrudge the sponsors for this tack; most voters, who don’t smoke pot, want laws that beneﬁt themselves, not stoners.

But there’s a thorny truth that politics doesn’t embrace: Pot is fun

Smoking pot before the movies can be enthralling. Passing around a pipe before dessert can be delightful. Listening to a great DJ by the sunny shores of Elliott Bay while you smoke a joint is positively joyous.

Which is to say, Hempfest is fun

It’s a brazen admission that pot smoking is not a sickness that needs to be cured.

Now, I can imagine snarky people saying that Hempfest isn’t fun (for them), or saying some Hempfest stoners are idiotic caricatures.

Oh, I’m sorry, do stoners present a bad image?

We’ve heard this one before: Gay pride parades send ﬂotillas of gyrating leather daddies down Main Streets across America. People say that’s also a bad image. People say it looks like gay culture is obsessed with

sex and indulgence. People say that the issue of gay rights is actually more sophisticated, that the serious gay agenda is about palatable stuff like building families and reducing youth suicide rates. That’s certainly true. And they’re right that Mr. Leather 2013 may turn off some folks (especially the folks who have always been dead set on dismissing gay people), but gay pride hasn’t been a setback for gay rights. Many of the cities with the biggest drag-queen-festooned pride parades are in the same states at the vanguard of passing gay marriage, enacting trans protections, and penalizing LGBT bullying. Now that marriage equality has passed in those states, should the gay pride parades stop? Fuck no.

They’re fun. They represent lots of gay Americans.

Some people may not like the gay pride analogy, but as a cocksucking stoner, I’m sticking with it. But noooo, the haters say: Being gay is who you are, and smoking pot is a choice.

I agree, kinda.

The problem is, many adults use drugs in moderation (alcohol and pot are the most popular). They are never going away, because using them is literally human nature. We tried a drug-free America and alcohol prohibition, and they failed as miserably as gay-conversion therapy. While some people have problems with drug addiction, for others, pot and alcohol are ﬁne.

And let’s be honest: I didn’t do shots last Thursday because I wanted to savor the delicious ﬂavor of tequila. And I didn’t have sex on Friday to build a family. I did those things because they’re fun.

So should Seattle, with the largest pot festival on the planet, which is in a state at the vanguard of legalizing pot, stop having fun with its Hempfest? No way.

Pot may be legal in Washington State, but nationally, Americans are busted for pot at a rate of nearly three-quarters of a million people

Fun, playful, sexy, and smart. You’re looking for someone like me. I do it all, and I’m into just about anything. I bet you can turn me on. I’ll let you push my buttons. You’ve never had a relationship quite like this. I promise to treat you right and listen to your every need. Call me now, let me show you the world and more. You won’t regret it.

206-428-1974

a year. Lots of people can’t get jobs or scholarships or apartments because they have a pot misdemeanor on their record. Just as gay pride tells gay folks that there’s hope, Hempfest is a beacon that there’s an end to America’s backward, racist, puritanical drug war crusade.

And now that the pressure is off Hempfest to be an agent for legal change, it’s easier to appreciate the wonderful, freaky bonanza that it is.

We’ve been having dishonest conversations for decades—you’ll get hooked on all drugs after one toke—and that leads to misinformation, abuse, and distrust. Once we can admit that pot is fun, we can talk credibly about when it’s not fun. When it really is dangerous (before driving). When you shouldn’t use pot (before school). Just like we can’t talk about safe sex unless we can admit, openly, that sex is common and pleasurable, we can’t have a sensible conversation about pot in this country without acknowledging pot can be pleasurable, too. And Hempfest won’t let us forget it.

TAURENCE SALTER He (Weeds) Seattle.

STRANGER

SOURCES SAY

• On August 19, Mayor Mike McGinn, Washington CeaseFire, and local business owners announced a new program to create gun-free zones in private establishments during a breakfast press conference at Oddfellows Cafe. While the city has lost its battle in court to ban guns from public spaces like parks, private property is another matter, and this program encourages businesses to post window decals about the no-gun rule, and then call the police to bounce patrons who refuse to honor it. Thirty-four businesses took the no-gun pledge during its ﬁrst day.

• Sadly, asshole gun nuts immediately inundated participating “Gun-Free Zone” businesses with threats of boycotts. Frani Assaf from Washington CeaseFire said that “quite a few businesses” have reported receiving angry phone calls and e-mails, including Cafe Racer, the site of last year’s tragic shooting. “It’s disheartening,” sighed Assaf. It’s also the classic NRA strategy to intimidate the opposition into submission.

• Who says stoners don’t have initiative? The Seattle Police Department was still handing out free snack-sized bags of Doritos at Hempfest, afﬁxed with labels explaining Washington’s new pot laws, when the bags started showing up on eBay for as much as $35 a pop. “Item condition: Used,” the seller declared. Because there’s nothing quite as appetizing as a used Dorito.

• Speaking of stoned initiative, a guy at Hempfest ﬁlled his time offering “shitty advice” to strangers for one dollar. “I just make shit up off the top of my head,” he explained.

• Until recently, the reelection website for Seattle City Council member Richard Conlin featured “The Stranger Endorsement,” even though this year we actually endorsed his challenger, Kshama Sawant, a smart socialist and economics instructor. Several people pointed out the seemingly deliberate gaffe on social media, to which Conlin responded on his Facebook page: “We are adding the 2009 date to make it clear that this is in a set of 2009 endorsements. But we are leaving it up to show how dishonest The Stranger is. I’m the same candidate doing the same things but The Stranger is hypocritical in refusing to acknowledge all the great things they welcomed in 2005 and 2009.” We have endorsed Conlin in the past, but endorsements aren’t diamonds, dude. In 2009, Conlin had a weak challenger and we scraped the bottom of the barrel to praise his support for a parks levy and backyard goats. And Conlin has been miserably conservative the last four years, supporting laws to penalize panhandlers and freezing transit funding. Conlin may not fully grasp this, but newspapers hand out brand-new endorsements when there’s a brand-new election. The fact that we didn’t endorse him in 2013 doesn’t mean we’re “dishonest” or “hypocritical.” It means we haven’t been lobotomized

Zayda Buddy’s Pizza & Bar

Right in the heart of Ballard is a little bit of Minnesota - Zayda Buddy’s Pizza & Bar. Zayda Buddy’s boasts a huge selection of canned and bottled beers, and the best beers the midwest has to offer, including Leinenkugels, Hamm’s, and Point beer from Wisconsin. Great beers on tap too, and over 30 different kinds of whiskey.

$20 to Spend at Zayda Buddy’s Pizza & Bar. Your Price: $10

Paragon Bar & Grill

Sink into one of our plush booths with a friend or two and enjoy our chef’s offerings of Southern staples - fried green tomatoes, corn fritters, watermelon salad and more. Every night (excluding Monday & Friday) features hot live music with no cover! Also open for brunch!

$25 to Spend at Paragon Bar & Grill. Your Price: $12.50

QUEEN ANNE! EASTLAKE! BALLARD!

Eastlake Bar & Grill

With some of the best deck views and dining at Lake Union, Eastlake Bar & Grill offers something for everyone on our diverse and affordable menu. Open daily for lunch, dinner & happy hour and breakfast on Saturday and Sunday.

$25 to Spend at Eastlake Bar & Grill. Your Price: $12.50

THE REVOLUTION HAPPENED AND YOU KILLED ME

TURMOIL IN EGYPT THROUGH MY FACEBOOK WINDOW

MAGED ZAHER

Since the demonstrations in Egypt in late June, I have been glued to Facebook. As an immigrant caught between homes, I selfishly hope for an Egypt I might be able to live in again one day, which is a flawed position to start with. The appeal of Facebook is that my friends—who come from different political views—share the news headlines and photos while annotating them with their opinions and experiences. (The news feed also comes entangled with pictures of dinner plates at Tom Douglas restaurants from my Seattle friends, together with posts about avant-garde American poetry and its factional disputes, all of which act as what can be described as postmodern flattening distraction.) Online, occasionally, I find myself playing interpreter between worldviews. When Mohamed Morsi, of the Muslim Brotherhood, was ousted by the army on July 3, many of my progressive friends, along with Egyptians who were educated in the West, were unable to see anything but a coup— which is not exactly how I saw it. After all, what about the 22 million people in the streets demanding his removal? For many Americans, it’s extremely hard to imagine that democracy is anything but election booths. But those 22 million people couldn’t wait for another election cycle, and isn’t it democratic to honor their will? At the very least, it can’t easily be dismissed as nondemocratic.

Then, on August 14, the situation took a turn for the worse: Egyptian security forces dissolved two Muslim Brotherhood sit-ins by force, killing hundreds of Morsi supporters. At that moment, I became an interpreter who’s no longer sure how to interpret what I’m seeing.

I was born and raised in Cairo, the number one city in the world that doesn’t sleep, according to the latest survey. Walking its streets with friends and grabbing a bite at 2 a.m. was typical. When the Muslim Brotherhood came to power last year, one of the first decisions they took was to turn Cairo into a sleep-early city, passing an executive decision for shops to close at 11 p.m. This decision was very telling of the culture of the Muslim Brotherhood, which carries within its composition the eternal tension between the rural and the urban—how the rural views the city as a scary place, a loose woman that you should tame. The decision was laughed at, of course, and they couldn’t really execute it, but it started a mistrust between many average nonpoliticized Cairenes and the Muslim Brotherhood, as the Cairenes started to see the Muslim Brotherhood as a force that is trying to paternalistically discipline them.

After the army ousted Morsi, the Muslim

Brotherhood led an outrage campaign demanding nothing short of his return, and their protests included a serious amount of instigation of sectarian violence against Copts—i.e., Christian Egyptians—calling them “dogs of Tawadros” and threatening to burn them. Amnesty International reported evidence that “indicates that supporters of deposed president Mohamed Morsi tortured” political rivals, and the allegations included beatings, electrocution, stabbings, and shootings.

Amnesty International stressed that “the Egyptian government must not, however, use these crimes, carried out by few, as a pretext to collectively punish all pro-Morsi supporters or use excessive force to disperse their sit-ins.” Nevertheless, on August 14, in the early-morning assault mentioned earlier, Egyptian security forces attacked two large Muslim Brotherhood sit-ins, leaving roughly 600 dead. “At least one protester was incinerated in his tent. Many others were shot in the head or chest, including some who appeared to be in their early teens, including the 17-year-old daughter of a prominent Islamist leader,” the New York Times reported.

After Egyptian security forces killed hundreds of Morsi supporters, I became an interpreter no longer sure how to interpret what I was seeing.

The Muslim Brotherhood, in turn, burned about 50-plus churches and attacked stores owned by Copts. They also carried out largescale attacks on police stations and municipal buildings.

In 2012, just a couple of days before Morsi won the election against Ahmed Shafik by a slight margin, the Muslim Brotherhood filled Tahrir Square and issued a threat that “we will burn the country” if the election was handed to Shafik. Some argue the scenario of “we will burn the country” is what is being done right now. In earnest, though this is very speculative, I believe that three years from now, if Morsi had been left to lose an election, the same violence from the Brotherhood would have erupted.

When it had power, the Muslim Brotherhood was incompetent, extremely arrogant, and mistrustful of everyone. (It was Morsi who issued a constitutional declaration giving his decisions immunity from judicial overturning.) As someone who once thought of himself as a pacifist, however, I have serious ethical problems with all the deaths caused by security forces. My position for the time being is twofold: (1) The Muslim Brotherhood as we currently know it is a closed-minded hate organization that has its own haphazardly armed militia, and it is not fit to govern, or maybe even to practice politics, and needs to undergo deep reforms before it can truly participate or be entrusted to take part in any civil or democratic process. And (2) the security forces and the army are heavy-handed and are causing lots of unjustified deaths. The trouble is, a collapse or a split in the army means a collapse of the Egyptian state and a descent into further chaos and bloodshed.

In my opinion, the Muslim Brotherhood and Islamists in general never believed in the separation between church and state, and this is the essence of the struggle that is going on right now. My opinion of the Muslim Brotherhood doesn’t come from

CHAOS IN THE STREETS The Muslim Brotherhood has led an outrage campaign against Egyptian security forces, Christians, and anyone supporting Morsi’s ouster. This photo, taken August 18 in the central Egyptian city of Minya, shows a burned car outside a building belonging to a Christian charity, ransacked earlier this month.

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ports only; it comes from their history and from firsthand experience.

I remember an incident during my last year in the engineering department at Cairo University, which gave the world both Hassan Fathy (the sustainable architect of New Gourna village) and Mohamed Atta (the architect of 9/11). The incident was an altercation with a Gama’a Islamiyya student. Gama’a Islamiyya is the Islamist group that used to be led by Omar Abdel Rahman, the blind sheikh responsible for the first World Trade Center bombing. This student came to a lecture hall before a lecture started in order to make a public announcement: “Please come to elections of the student body, don’t be passive like the Jews and the people of the book,” he said, meaning Christians.

I objected: “Can’t you call for an election without insulting me?”

Although a Copt, my disagreement was purely from a secular point of view. What made it easy for me to object was that the majority of my friends at school were Muslims—I actually didn’t particularly like hanging out with my Coptic colleagues—which I felt earned me the right to speak whatever I thought. The caveat is that I am not much of a courageous person, so this was a bad move. We exchanged few more sentences in front of the students who were in the lecture hall, and eventually the professor came. All the conversations that happened afterward with my Muslim and Christian friends were mostly supportive or witty, except with one Muslim Brotherhood guy who took me aside a few days later and told me, “Maged, you were lucky.”

The Gama’a Islamiyya student whom I’d objected to was a gentle guy, otherwise something bad would have happened to me, the Muslim Brotherhood guy said, adding: “I worry about your safety. Don’t do this again.” I hadn’t been scared in the lecture hall, but I was terrified now, receiving the Muslim Brotherhood dude’s veiled threat. I’d finally experienced firsthand the double-faced scare tactics I’d read about. Even as I write this now, part of me is scared of the possibility of retaliation, no matter how slim it is.

In the 1920s, under British occupation, the city called Ismailia witnessed the birth of the Muslim Brotherhood. Their slogan was (and still is) “Allah is our objective, the Quran is our law, the Prophet is our leader, Jihad is our way, and death for the sake of Allah is the highest of our aspirations.” This group from its early inception had a conflicted relation with modernity.

lens, which explains why it took only a year for them to be deeply hated by the apolitical masses. It is probably worth mentioning that the current head of the Muslim Brotherhood, Mohamed Badie, who was arrested on August 19, was imprisoned with Qutb in 1965.

In Seattle, talking in Arabic comes as a treat. A dear friend of mine is an Egyptian feminist and politicalscience scholar, and recently after having a bite to eat in the International District, we decided to share a large bottle of sake while sitting outside of Uwajimaya—a minor simulacrum of hanging out in Cairo streets. Under the effect of sake, we sat discussing life between different worlds: between Cairo and Seattle, between an American right wing that views Islam as equivalent to terrorism and a hip academic breed of liberal and leftist Middle East scholars who built their careers on promoting moderate political Islam as democratic without really knowing that it isn’t. Both positions are mistaken, we agreed, and it is a nightmare to keep up the thread against each side. These American scholars who were promoting “moderate political Islam” as a democratic group that the West should do business with ended up having the upper hand in policy making in the United States and Western societies that were and are looking for security in a post-9/11 world.

Anne Patterson, the US ambassador to Egypt, is one of the folks who are influenced by this movement. It didn’t hurt much that all of the Muslim Brotherhood’s leaders are staunch neoliberal businessmen who look up to the United States as business partners.

A Muslim Brotherhood guy said to me: “I worry about your safety. Don’t do this again.”

As the women’s movement taught us, the personal is political, and sitting with my friend sipping cheap sake on a street bench, we realized our bodies and experiences are marked by a complex set of national and international power struggles between different ideologies and political systems. We also knew we were the lucky ones who got to have such rich experience in this knowledge. Yet we were also aware of a certain sense of hopelessness that is looming inside us, despite the laughs we had.

When Britain left Egypt, the army turned around and ruled the country, a 1952 coup that Egyptians call a revolution since this what their history books call it. Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser was in charge of the army then, and he and his posse disbanded all political parties. As part of ending politics in Egypt, Nasser—after an attempt at his assassination by the Muslim Brotherhood—terrorized the group and imprisoned lots of its leadership. While in Nasser’s prison and awaiting execution, one of the intellectual leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood, Sayyid Qutb, came out with the concept that the whole society is an infidel. This use of society as singular is terrifying, as it puts the faithful (the Muslim Brotherhood or the Islamists in general) in a position that is against every single person and every single institution. This position seems to have haunted the Muslim Brotherhood’s thoughts and actions since, and despite their claims of modernization, they seem to still see Egypt and Egyptians with this

I had hoped that after January 25, 2011, the Muslim Brotherhood would use the moment to build a wide alliance and establish a new Egypt. I remember being disappointed in one decision after another, only later realizing what I’d known deep down all along—that a group that preaches a narrow mind-set can trust only itself. The failure of the Muslim Brotherhood, the most viable political Islamist group in Egypt, is profound, and it will haunt the world for a long time. The big unknown is: Does their failure mean the end of political Islam, or is it just one step, in a dialectical way, toward a new movement that is more loyal to the spirit of Islam than this bunch? The answer will be manifested in what we call history, which is very personal, very personal indeed.

For now, I am just following the news on Facebook, like everyone else, and hoping for the least possible casualties. While at it, here is a Facebook post that seems as close to truth as anything else I know: “One thing for sure until now, most of the ones who die (not all) from all sides are [the] poor.”

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Intiman Theatre’s Andrew Russell and Valerie Curtis-Newton team up with The Stranger’s Dominic Holden and Cienna Madrid to share their insights on race, sex, politics, and money.

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Mayors who cross-dress in small town America! Old-time wisdom revisited! Campaign donations that point to an irrational fear of butts! Mom seduction!!!

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WHY AREPIGEONS’ FEET SO FUCKED UP?

SERIOUSLY

M. IT’SBOTHERING M E . CAN SOMEONEEXPLAIN IT?

BY CHARLES MUDEDE

y story begins with a pigeon trying to get laid. This happened not too long ago at the bus stop across the street from the Mecca Cafe on Lower Queen Anne. The traffic on the street was heavy and loud. The sun was beating in the middle of a clear blue sky. And on an area of sunbaked sidewalk beside the bus shelter, this male pigeon had forgotten that the world all around it existed and was completely focused on the ancient trick of puffing itself up to appear bigger than it actually was. The female had her back/ tail to him, but he kept trying to get her attention by walking in circles and bobbing his head up and down, as he emitted strange sounds from deep within his exaggerated throat. All the female wanted to do was peck at the little bits of tips and dust on the sidewalk in peace. But the more the female ignored the male’s performance, the bigger became his body, the faster his circles, and the louder his throaty sounds. He was so convinced that he could impress her successfully with the very same dance, the same noises, the same head business that all other

males of his kind employ to seduce females.

This small moment in the time of my life would have entered oblivion (my bus arrives, I board the bus, the bus departs, and I never think about those birds ever again) if it had not been for one thing: All four toes on the male pigeon’s right foot were missing. Its left foot was fine (toes, nails, everything), but its right one was no better than the nub of a crutch. And so, not only was he bobbing his head like a human whose brain has been turned to mush by mad cow disease and making sounds that, if amplified, could be used by the pro-torture members of our intelligence community to break the will of the most fanatical terrorists—not only that, but he was also hobbling on a stump like some seaaddled pirate from the old days of planks, buckles,

bandannas, and skull flags. Indeed, the bird’s gait was so wobbly that each step it took seemed barely able to prevent the horny thing from collapsing into a sad heap of feathers and shame.

The bird was hobbling on a stump like some sea-addled pirate.

True, the female pigeon’s disinterest in the male had nothing to do with this ugly stump (which seemed to be bandaged with a tiny once-white rag—I may have imagined this), but I’m a member of an animal species that just loves to anthropomorphize the activities, expressions, and gestures of other animals. We love to see ourselves in a dog’s smile, or a cat’s curiosity, or a rat’s nervousness, or a crow’s cold calculation, or the way raccoons hold objects with their sensitive fingers. In my human eyes, the female pigeon at the bus stop on that sunny afternoon was simply horrified by this mangled and bandaged creature. What in the world made him think that she (a healthy female with handsome black and purple features and big red eyes) would even give him the time of day? Could you imagine being fucked by a bird with a rotting stump? What would she say to her friends? How could she ever live

TRAIN DIFFERENT

that down? Pigeons mate for life. But no such thing was on her mind. She was treating him in exactly the same way that she treated almost all the other male birds in this city that tried to get into her feathers. Finally, the male with the stump leg gave up the song and dance and began doing something that was a little more productive: pecking at the sidewalk.

There is that great moment in The Usual Suspects when, in a flash of illumination, the detective sees a pattern on the messy bulletin board and realizes that the evil underworld king Keyser Söze, the criminal he desperately wants to put behind bars, is actually the cripple who has just left the police station. Something like this happened to me when, not long after seeing that horny male pigeon with the stump leg, I recognized a pattern forming in my own messy mind: Many pigeons had one or two or three or all four toes missing. I then began to give some attention to the feet of pigeons, trying to see if this was indeed the case, if mangled feet were a common thing with this most synanthropic species. And if so, why was such the case?

From my observations of about 40 pigeons in the downtown area, Pioneer Square, and Little Saigon (particularly near the telephone wires on 12th Avenue), I came to conclude that at least one in every seven pigeons had bad feet. Though the result was by no means drawn from anything like a scientifically controlled sample (I could easily have seen the same crippled bird several times), it still indicated that there might be something there, something worth looking into. If pigeon feet are susceptible to permanent damage, why? I looked at the crows in my neighborhood, Columbia City, to see if this is a problem affecting birds generally, and could not find even one with fucked up feet—but then again, crows’ feet are not as visible as those of pigeons, which are distinctly scaly and colored like Pepto-Bismol.

Common city pigeons descend from the rock doves of the North African and Asian sea-cliffs (the crashing waves, the stormy sky, and the safety of ledges and caves on cliffs’ faces became the loud traffic on streets, the droning planes in the sky, and the safety of the ledges and cracks on the faces of skyscrapers), and were brought to this region as pets and food by settlers. (The Northwest also has a native species of pigeon called the band-tailed pigeon; it has yellow feet and can be found in the wilder parts of the city, like Carkeek Park. Band-tailed pigeons do not mate with city pigeons.) The common city pigeon has three toes in the front and one in the back. The middle toe in the front is the longest and also usually has the longest nail. If you stare at a pigeon’s feet long enough, two thoughts eventually enter your mind: One, you think they need to cut their nails, which seem to grow with no limit. Two, you begin to wonder if they are at all the best feet to have for urban life, which is always a hard life, a concrete life.

Macy’s building or something. These places are not built for the animals, so they get caught on things, get an injury, and maybe one of their toes gets infected and falls off. And that’s the third and last way: an infection, a disease.

“Birds are quite good at this, and people who own chickens have seen this as well, but as long as it doesn’t make the rest of the bird sick and it’s a pretty localized injury, they tend to do well. So there are also stories of chickens running around with a stubby foot. It’s a strategy for getting around and making do with what you’ve got. For example, pigeons do not live long, though they live longer in captivity [up to 13 years]. Out in the city, they don’t live that long [about 3 years], and if they can still make it by with a peg leg and they are still able go out and eat the crackers and Cheetos and go forth and produce more pigeons, it would make sense for them to deal with those infections as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

Since Anderson seems to like describing how predators keep pigeons in check, I ask him: Do you like pigeons? “We are never going to get rid of them,” he says. “They have been with us for thousands of years. They are here to stay. The good thing is the falcons can put a hurt on them; otherwise, they would just be everywhere and pooping everywhere. But they are fun to watch when they are courting. They have quite a strut.”

Cynthia Roberts, the woman behind the UK website Pigeon and Dove Rescue, doesn’t think it’s a predator issue. “Although I have rescued a lot of predated pigeons, I have never yet seen a pigeon that has had its feet damaged by a predator. They go for the fleshy bits,” Roberts tells me over e-mail. “The closest I came to ‘predated feet’ was a dead pigeon that had had its toes eaten by mice.”

Though she is not a veterinarian, Roberts’s website is a great online resource for those who find themselves in the unfamiliar situation of having to help a trapped or injured or orphaned pigeon. “In providing this information, I am not intending to replace professional veterinary treatment (please read legal disclaimer at foot of page), but to enable rescuers to help a pigeon when veterinary expertise is not available…” she states on the website. Later on the same page: “I have included information on how to fight culls and help trapped pigeons, two of the uglier aspects of our society and its unwillingness to live in harmony with the wildlife that share this planet with us.” Roberts identifies herself as a pigeon lover and those who use her site as pigeon lovers.

“There are a few diseases that damage urban pigeons’ feet… Pox is one, but pox certainly never destroys the whole foot,” Roberts says. “I would say that 99.9 percent of the pigeons with damaged feet I have seen owe the damage to the carelessness of human beings in disposing of their rubbish. It isn’t just guesswork—the cotton, hair, fishing line is still evident after toes and even feet have been lost, embedded deeply into the skin.”

Human hair, I ask? “Human hair is awful. If it tightens around a bird’s foot, it digs in deeply and it doesn’t snap. It is extremely difficult for even a rescuer to get an implement like a seam cutter under embedded hair to remove it, and soaking it doesn’t soften it.”

“There are three main reasons for limb loss in pigeons,” explains Chris Anderson, a biologist with the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. “One is an urban predator, like the peregrine falcon. So you can imagine that the peregrine went one way and the pigeon just got lucky and went another way, but it didn’t escape without an injury. And there are also feral cats. Pigeons are often on the ground. We are often feeding them on the ground, and that concentrates them there. Then a cat attacks and almost gets one. So there is that. Then it could also get caught on something. These birds are in an urban environment, and our built structures aren’t made for animals to nest on—you know, the

But how in the world does human hair end up on a pigeon’s foot, I ask? “People are actually advised to leave their hair clippings out for birds to use in nest building. Women with long hair will remove the hair from their hairbrushes and drop it out of the window for the birds (I have seen them do this), thinking it will help the birds. But the damage it does, particularly to pigeons who will turn in circles

and therefore get the long hair tangled round both feet, then tightened, is just terrible.”

When I tell her I have never heard of humans leaving their hair out for birds, Roberts then sends me links to several websites that do indeed advise people to give birds their hair.

For example, Bill Thompson writes on BirdWatchersDigest.com: “Offer pet or human hair in onion bags or put in obvious places. If you looked at a hundred bird nests, chances are that most of them would have some animal hair in them. It’s soft, insulating, and easy to gather. When you groom your pet (or when you yourself are groomed), save the hair to spread around your backyard for the birds to use.”

According to the Daily Mail: “When Brian Williams has his hair cut by his wife every month, he’s not the only one who feels the benefit. His wife Joan collects the clippings on a sheet and shakes them out into the garden—where the birds then pick them up to make nests. Mr. Williams, 68, a retired teacher, was astonished to find that a goldfinch, a greenfinch, and a robin have all collected his grey locks and used them to build homes in his garden.”

Josh Peterson on Planet Green: “A cooky [sic] way to keep your hair clippings out of the dumpster is by leaving it out for the birds. This sounds crazy, but birds will build nests with your hair. They will also build nests out of your pet’s hair.” This recommendation was reposted by the Huffington Post, under the headline “Old Hair Is for the Birds: They’ll Use It for a Nest.”

Roberts says in another e-mail: “I would never take a thread into my aviary and certainly never discard any there, yet I found one of my pigeons had managed to get his foot quite tightly tangled in a length of thread while he was in the aviary. I have no idea where the thread came from, but the pigeon’s foot certainly found it quickly, and I wonder whether there is something about the way they walk that ensures that if there is any thread, hair, or fishing line around, their toes will pick it up and facilitate the entanglement that leads to such damage.”

There are some who blame the feet deformities of pigeons not on predators or humans but on pigeons themselves. When an unknown person asked this question on the Guardian’s website, “Why do so many London pigeons have missing toes or feet? Is it the result of being run over by taxis or do they suffer from a disease?” the most popular and striking answer was this, by Heather Bingham: “People do use pesticides to deter pigeons from roosting and this could be harmful to their feet. However, if pigeon shit is harmful to masonry, it is surely capable of rotting flesh and blood. It is standing

in their own shit that causes pigeons to lose their feet and not necessarily the chemicals used by man. The question needs to be why they insist on standing in their own detritus—to this I have no answer.” Nor do I.

To get an expert opinion of Bingham’s shit theory, I call Anderson back, but he is on vacation. I then e-mail the theory to Danny Lubniewski, who is known to the world as the Birdman of Long Beach, though he currently lives in Dallas (he moved there to be close to his kids). Lubniewski, who claims to have rescued and doctored an astounding 3,000 pigeons, and who also provided me with lots of pics of mutilated pigeon feet, responds: “I never read such a bunch of crap in my life. Pigeons are extremely clean… The reason so many pigeons are missing toes is for one reason, basically. Their toes were tied like in the photos I sent you. The string, hair, and fishing line tightens up, gradually cutting off circulation, and after much torture, the toes will finally fall off.” He calls Bingham’s theory “garbage” and “the stupidest thing I read in years.”

To conclude: I can see how strings, wire, and shit could be a problem for the pigeons of Seattle, but not human hair—the strange practice of donating the stuff to the feathered kind does not appear to be popular here. (Chris Anderson did indeed confirm that Seattleites are not big hair donors.) But now that we have heard from a commenter and three experts (one by education, Anderson, and two by passion, Roberts and Lubniewski), I think we can say exactly why so many pigeons have messed up feet. The answer, of course, will appear in the strong theoretical light of Darwinian evolution. (Indeed, the success of that hypothesis and its rise to the status of a theory owes a great deal to pigeons—read the first chapter of The Origin of Species.) Without the theory of evolution, we are in the dark.

Now Roberts and the Guardian commenter Bingham provide us with what in biology is called a proximate cause (human stuff or pigeon shit are big problems for pigeon feet), but Anderson, the biologist, offers us the deeper, ultimate, and therefore evolutionary cause: “They can still make it by with a peg leg.” Meaning, many pigeons have bad feet because in the end, bad feet, missing toes, do not kill them or cramp their style. If, say, female pigeons (which, by way, are also susceptible to limb loss) refused to mate with crippled males, then we would see pigeons evolve the kind of feet that are tough enough to deal with hair, string, shit, and predators. But that has not and may not ever happen. So even if a pigeon is missing all of its toes, it can still eat, still get around the city, and still do the dance that gets it laid and paired for life.

COURTESY OF DANNY LUBNIEWSKI

MANGLED But it won’t cramp this bird’s style—one of the 3,000 pigeons Danny Lubniewski says he’s helped.

STRANGER SUGGESTS

Night of Genius: Performance

DANCE

For the past several weeks, Seattle artists and art-lovers have convened at the Frye Art Museum to get to know this year’s ﬁnalists for the Stranger Genius Awards. The trip has been full of surprises (Geniuses say the darndest things), and tonight we’ll get to know three titans of Seattle dance: Amy O’Neal, the duo Zoe Scoﬁeld/Juniper Shuey, and Pat Graney. Topics to be discussed: sampling, birds and spiders, rejection, bodies, mythological violence, the American South, and a utopian housing project involving artists and ex-prisoners. Plus, you know, dance. UPDATE: Sorry, this showcase is sold out! Please join us at the Genius Awards on September 28. (strangertickets.com, $10, 21+) BRENDAN KILEY

Scout Niblett

She might have a delightfully whimsical name, but Portland (by way of England) grunge-tinted blues-maker Scout Niblett is pure simmering intensity. On her latest and best album, It’s Up to Emma, Niblett’s yowls, sparsely hammered drums, and achy riffs pull you up close to see her wounds. She’s been betrayed, but never ﬂies off the handle—though it’s a breakup album to be sure, she takes on the pain with conﬁdence. If she’s shedding any tears, they’re with clenched teeth and good posture And maybe a gun… “A nice little silver one.” (Barboza, 925 E Pike St, thebarboza.com, 8 pm, $10, 21+) EMILY NOKES

Brown Derby Does ‘Titanic’

THEATER

Nicole Hardy BOOKS

From her early readings, where she’d wear fabulous dresses and invoke the spirits of dead poets, to the autobiographical story she published in the New York Times’ Modern Love column about being a Mormon virgin, Nicole Hardy has always been funny and surprising and sharp. Tonight, she ﬁnally hits the big time with the publication of her new memoir, Confessions of a Latter-day Virgin, and she’s celebrating in style with music, food, booze, and a photo booth (and maybe a reading, too, if you’re lucky). (Hugo House, 1634 11th Ave, hugohouse.org, 6:30 pm, free) PAUL CONSTANT

AUG 24

Ian Bell’s well-loved Brown Derby project is a series of intentionally high-speed train-crash readings of iconic ﬁlm scripts in the boozy, glitter-and-duct-tape glamour of Re-bar. Tonight, Bell and his merry crew will shipwreck Titanic with Scott Shoemaker as Leonardo DiCaprio, Imogen Love as Kate Winslet, and Paula Deen as “the unsinkable Molly Brown.” (Note to attorneys: not literally Paula Deen.) Will Winslet shoot ping-pong balls at DiCaprio’s face while he sketches her in the nude? Will someone’s heart go on (and on and on)? Who will play the iceberg? There’s only one way to ﬁnd out! (Re-bar, 1114 Howell St, brownderby series.org, 8 pm, $18, 21+, Aug 22–24) BRENDAN KILEY

Linda’s Fest MUSIC

The fourth annual Linda’s Fest is the best yet! Have a look at all the Seattle greats who’ll be partying in the parking lot behind the bar: the always charming Tilson XOXO, Stranger Genius Award ﬁnalist Katie Kate, peppy punkers Big Eyes, new duo Iska Dhaaf, and the very ﬁerce Absolute Monarchs (it’s their last show ever—sad face). Beloved DJ Marco Collins will be spinning between bands, and they’re serving up food and drink specials all night, too. And the party is free! WHOA! (Parking lot behind Linda’s, 707 E Pine St, lindastavern.com, 5 pm, free, 21+) MEGAN SELING

‘The Salon in the Field’ ART

In one corner of a gorgeous 300 acres of wetland in Kent, Sarah Kavage and Adria Garcia have braided huge swaths of wild grasses into woven sculpture—they’ve styled the land as a head of hair. They call the installation The Salon in the Field because it includes events and discussions, from live music to demos on braiding kinky/curly hair to lessons on how to weave in the Salish and Ethiopian traditions. Bring a picnic and chill on the head of the planet. (Green River Natural Resources Area, 21250 Russell Road S, Kent, studiokabuya.com, 10 am–dusk, free, through Sept 8) JEN GRAVES

‘Blue Jasmine’ FILM

A bald and brilliant mashup of Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire and the Bernie Madoff scandal, Blue Jasmine is a brainy, referenceheavy drama that’s also Woody Allen’s best movie in 20 years. Drawing buckets of tension and pathos from both its sources, the dreamily structured Jasmine never stops exploding with squirmy, messy, often hilarious life, thanks in tremendous part to the actors, led by a relentlessly great Cate Blachett, with key support provided by Sally Hawkins, Louis C.K., and, uh, Andrew Dice Clay, who might very well ﬁnd himself nominated for an Oscar. (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/ﬁlm) DAVID SCHMADER

Anthem Cider is what baby applets dream of becoming: tart, boozy, and so refreshingly fruity you can substitute it for a salad. The Oregon-based company has a few great variations on their local-fruit cider (Anthem Pear and Anthem Cherry), but the breakaway star is Anthem Hops, which is dry hopped over three weeks for a lagerish ﬁnish. Capitol Hill’s new Capitol Cider bar has both Cherry and Hops on tap. Try them and feel free to toast me for having the best taste ever. (Capitol Cider, 818 E Pike St, seattlecider bar.com, 4 pm–2 am, $5, 21+) CIENNA MADRID

ROBERT ZVERINA

Amy O’Neal

Absolute Monarchs

Adria Garcia

ZOE

MATTHEW OFFENBACHER

ARTS

How to Succeed in Art Without Even Trying

The Unmarketed Paintings of Ruthie V.

BY JEN GRAVES

Ruthie V. has a cool name, but she is not a cool artist. First, the name: She says it’s just what people have always called her (her full name is not a secret; it’s Sarah Ruth Vergin). Now for the rest. Her website is forthcoming about her work as a “color consultant”: She will be your home or office decorator if you would like that. Curators everywhere can be heard gasping.

On top of this, for anyone who visits her solo show this month at Shift Studio in Pioneer Square, she’ll do an on-the-spot portrait painting, or snap a picture if you’d rather pick up your painting later: She’ll be your caricaturist-on-the-fly, like a boothie at a street fair. Furthermore, she’s giving them away for free. For free. Does she not value herself? My god!

together was part of their appeal, and this is what Ruthie V. does not have. It is okay. Ruthie V. provides an example of what an artist without much calculation is up to, and many artists are without calculation. Not as many are also this good.

Ruthie moved from Bellingham a year ago after meeting a man she’s about to marry. This is relevant information because her new works appear under the title Domestic: Soul of an Interior, a phrase from her Vuillard readings that reflected her state of mind as she prepared for her second Seattle solo show (her first was at Shift in 2011). Google this phrase and you find, on VictorianWeb.org, a link to a piece of writing about “Domestic interiors as extensions of the feminine soul.”

Now we’re no longer a bunch of Victorians, but extending your feminine soul into the wide world is also not a great marketing strategy in the competitive, intellectualized realm of contemporary art. Ruthie rides again.

tion of the open door obscures him partly, he is a headless man. A headless man enjoying an extremely relaxing late Sunday morning— what a thing. And the strangeness is contained entirely within the image, invented by visual means. (You also don’t want to miss the simply great glass doorknob. Pure visual art is what.)

The other maybe-greatest painting here is almost, almost too close to Matisse. It’s another man in bed, this one still asleep, buried in a comforter that’s a red-orange sea of curving lines and a barely sketched white flower pattern. The painting is a little smaller than the other one, or maybe just seems it, it’s unframed, and its tension is between the tenderness and the riot of color. Again, perfectly keyed and entirely on the surface for anyone to see. Ruthie could probably sell this one in a minute for a bundle. It’s the heart of the show, she admits. Its label is the only one that reads “NFS”: not for sale.

ART

Guns and Cellos

Paul Rucker’s Killing Reenactments

BY JEN GRAVES

The holes in the white paper are perfect circles with burned, romantic edges. They’re bullet holes from a Glock 22 semiautomatic pistol. The number of holes on each piece of paper corresponds to the number of bullets police officers shot at a specific person. Nobody is named in the row of papers mounted like target-practice torsos, only dates of shooting. February 4, 1999 is the title of the sculpture for Amadou Diallo. On the upper right of the paper, there are around eight holes, near his heart. Every “suspect” in this target lineup was unarmed and African American, except Native American carver John T. Williams, killed August 30, 2010, in Seattle.

LOOSE LIPS

• Local art trio SuttonBeresCuller whose recent show at Greg Kucera Gallery included a bronze banana, a bronze spiral ﬂuorescent bulb, and a bronze mop—were featured in a Wall Street Journal story on cast bronze objets d’art last weekend. If commissioned by, say, a member of the 1 percent who reads the WSJ to make a gold edition of their cast-bronze mop—as a commentary on economic inequality, say— could they? Reached for comment, SBC says indeed they could: They would just need a $400,000 deposit for materials.

• Best-selling sci-ﬁ novelist Neal Stephenson, a ﬁnalist for a 2013 Stranger Genius Award, said at the Frye Art Museum last week that when he watches the Oscars, he’s “envious at how good that industry is at promoting itself. Writers have nothing like that except readings. Which is sad.” Addressing the curators of the APRIL Festival, which is also in the running for a Genius Award (for its efforts to recontextualize and fuck with the way readings are done), he added, “Congratulations on creating something new in terms of parading literature out in front of people.”

• In other Genius news, Megan Grifﬁths’s latest ﬁlm, Lucky Them—starring Toni Collette and shot in Seattle—premieres on September 6 at the big and prestigious Toronto International Film Festival.

• A rare 16-mm presentation of the original Mighty Joe Young from 1949 ran on August 15 at the Grand Illusion to commemorate the recent death of renowned animator Ray Harryhausen. Everyone went bananas.

“Can

And when you inquire about the inspiration for her collection of 30 new paintings—some depicting sophisticated scenes, others sentimental sap-fests like cats and dogs (“This was me trying to see: Can I do pet portraits? Yes. Yes, I can”)—she’ll name-check Vuillard. The name barely rises out of the great fog of French Painters of the Past, not because he is mediocre, but because his domestic interiors were never absolutely the thing either.

The fact remains that Ruthie V. has made some very good paintings, and you should know about her.

You might recall that a few years ago a group of Leipzig painters became the darlings of the art world, traveling the globe with their East-German-hermit-mythology intact They were reinventing representational painting was the word. Some of their paintings, featured locally at the Frye Art Museum, were tremendously good, so satisfying on so many levels. But we must acknowledge that the seductive narrative that linked them

Domestic is, in fact, more sedate than Ruthie’s past works, which have been larger and brighter. Here, in an enlarged, new Shift Studio space (still in the Tashiro Kaplan building), her two-room exhibition is roughly divided into two parts. One side is her portrait studio. An easel is set up, and pieces of paper bearing watercolor faces, proliferating constantly as more people visit and request them, are tacked onto the wall. What you will notice immediately is that these free takeaways are highly refined, though they were obviously made quickly. The shading and coloring are soft, detailed, and deft. In a few cases, you have the distinct feeling that this, here, is the minimum number of strokes possible to transfer this human onto this paper. It will come as no surprise to learn that Ruthie studied, in part, in Japan. That sometimes breathtaking economy applies in the other half of the gallery, too, where the oils on linen and oils on canvas hang tidily on perfectly lightly toned gray-brown walls. Backdrop muting is no accident; again, Domestic conjures comfort, which sometimes feels unsurpassably pleasurable, and sometimes induces yawning, and Ruthie is representing both her experiences. Maybe the greatest painting here is Sunday, a dusky thing 24 inches tall and 18 inches wide. It dryly delivers a bedroom scene seen through an open doorway. A man is lying on the bed straight ahead, reading, but because the posi-

Paul Rucker is the artist who made the sculptures, hanging at Gallery4Culture. “Hanging” is significant. An animated video is projected onto the back gallery wall. It’s set to a melancholy cello score by Rucker, and over the span of its one-minute duration, you see leaves rustling and heads in the crowd turning back and forth as the black man hanging from the tree in the foreground sways. The projection is large, almost lifesize, and in color. In the final few seconds, the animation hardens and becomes still and black-and-white, reverting to the historical photograph on which it was based. Even on repeat viewings, knowing it’s coming, the change from animation to artifact is eerie, like the mental toggle between the attractive perfect circles on the pristine white paper and torn, bloody skin.

Rucker calls the show Recapitulation, as in history repeating itself, with the subtitle Assassin Series, drawing a straight line from lynching to the wild disproportion of black and brown men in American prisons now. Recapitulation is also a term from classical music, specifically from a structure called the sonata form; the recapitulation section, when a theme appears with alterations, is the register of change within a piece of music.

Rucker’s double background is in art and music. Of his many installations for Seattle audiences over the years, this feels the richest. In contrast to the forensic paper torsos and the archival lynching reanimation, Rucker uses the warm form of a cello body to eulogize other victims of violence. Cellos are made by heating wood and bending it

• A heated debate broke out in The Stranger’s ofﬁces after last week’s issue of the paper erroneously called the ﬁlm Anchorman “the 2004 Will Ferrell comedy that some people claim to enjoy immensely.” The debate ended with almost everyone concerned admitting that Anchorman is the best dumb comedy ever made. Those who disagreed have been killed and eaten.

• Chef Jim Drohman leads another of his always-packed Yes on 522 meetings at Cafe Presse this coming Monday (with free snacks!). I-522 would require labeling of genetically modiﬁed foods in Washington State—an issue that riles people up, no matter which way they feel about it. You should come to this—don’t you like free snacks? See the Chow Calendar on page 30 for details, and for more upcoming great-chef-sponsored Yes-on-522 events, see thestranger.com/chowevents.

• Ballard now has its own edition of Capitol Hill’s Skillet Diner, which succeeds where many fail—that is, in fancying up the great American diner formula. And Green Lake’s got a brand-new branch of the decade-plus between-Ballard-and-Fremont favorite the Dish, complete with its own version of the Wall of Hot Sauces

• Earlier this week, a man walked into the Monkey Pub and sat down directly below a muted television screen. For 10 minutes, he stared blankly at the baseball recaps of the day, and then slowly rose and walked down the street. He spent the next hour feeding cold pizza to birds on Roosevelt.

ART

COURTESY OF THE ARTIST

TWO OF RUTHIE V.’S PAINTINGS A head with no body and a body with no head.

around a form, and Rucker’s Soundless Series is wall-mounted cello forms left unfinished. According to labels, each hollow belly with soundless sound holes refers to someone (Trayvon Martin, the Birmingham four).

The third and final emotional register of the show is more pop. Red, white, and blue plastic pieces made on a 3-D printer and laid out in a glass case are the unfinished products of I Started to Make a Gun. In One Less Thing to Worry About, a store-bought target with a hooded figure printed on it has a safe on the floor below it. Rucker’s wall label says materials include “Concealed weapons permit, Glock 22 semiautomatic pistol, 3 full clips of ammunition (45 rounds).” Are they actually in there? Do they need to be, or does safety or fear arise just by saying they are? Can Rucker sell them as art?

Across from the safe, there’s a ricochet mark in the wall of the gallery. A 9 mm bullet is lodged in a piece of plywood suspended from the ceiling. For the artist, this was cheap theater; for Marissa Alexander in Florida, the same act is 20 years in prison. Rucker just wants to make the echoes heard.

BOOKS

Confessions of an Underwhelmed Reader

Nicole Hardy’s Memoir on Mormonism Disappoints

BY CIENNA MADRID

Since the debut of Nicole Hardy’s 2011 New York Times Modern Love essay,

“Single, Female, Mormon, Alone,” in which she came out as a progressive 35-year-old virgin struggling to live within the strict gendered rules of the Mormon Church, Hardy’s career has been on a meteoric rise. Overnight, she gave voice to thousands of other women fighting to reconcile the dictates of their religions—no sex before marriage, plenty of kids, and a future as a subservient housewife—with a desire for autonomy, careers, even a kid-free existence.

PREVIEW

Nicole Hardy Fri Aug 23, Hugo House, 6:30 pm, free

Here in Hardy’s hometown, her triumphs have felt especially personal. Every local writer sighed in envy over the success of her Modern Love column. They screamed in envy over her subsequent six-figure book deal. And yet it couldn’t have happened to a more worthy writer. Anyone familiar with her work can tell you that Hardy is an accomplished poet and a hilarious, captivating reader. She is also a very nice person.

So I will say this as nicely as possible: Confessions of a Latter-day Virgin, Hardy’s memoir about slowly rejecting the prescriptive tenets of her church—marriage, motherhood, and a happy career as a housewife—is a disappointment. It’s not a singular flaw that drags the book down, but a collision of several: a seeming lack of direction on Hardy’s part, poor editing, and, in some passages, plain bad writing, all of which contribute to the sense that Confessions is a compelling story drowning in words.

“I’m afraid of exposing myself,” Hardy confides to a friend in Confessions. “Of shaming my family, of betraying the church.” This fear pervades the book, along with a sense that Hardy is pulling punches. Even as she proudly talks about her evolution from a 12-year-old devout Mormon to a 40-year-old independent

woman, Hardy shows an unwillingness to directly address the church that failed her.

For example, it’s unclear if Hardy ever informs her bishop or church elders that she’s leaving the church. We don’t get that scene. But after Hardy tells her parents she will no longer be joining them for church, a former bishop writes her a two-page e-mail intrusively speculating on her love life and assuring her that she should feel the shame and guilt of a sinner. Hardy’s response is a nonresponse. She blocks his e-mail address and prints and burns a copy of the letter.

And during a visit to LA, she writes: “I’ve remained intentionally ignorant about the LDS church’s involvement in Proposition 8—which last year overturned the previously granted right of same-sex couples to marry in California. I have turned off the television, flipped the radio station away from the news; I’ve hidden Facebook friends, thrown newspapers unread into the recycling bin, not wanting to acknowledge that the current prophet would… tell church members how to vote.”

Later, she weeps on a bench, terrified that “one day I’ll look back in search of something beautiful, some cherished remnant of my faith, and nothing will remain.”

Did that reflective moment happen? What is Hardy’s current relationship with her church? We’re left wondering whether Hardy ever voiced her discontent to people outside of her immediate family and small group of empathetic, non-Mormon friends, whether she pushed for change for all the women following in her footsteps, who might be chafing under church edicts and staring fearfully down a path similar to Hardy’s. While she includes advice from family and friends on how she can make herself more marriageable, the church’s reaction to her growing autonomy is glaringly absent in the narrative—and it’s much more vital to the story than some of the

mundane romantic relationships Hardy instead chooses to focus on.

Speaking of romance, writing love scenes is not Hardy’s forte. Descriptions of her romantic interludes are clichéd and mawkish:

On an afternoon date, there will be no darkness, no candlelight, none of the physical expectations sunset inspires. But as soon as we sit down on a bench overlooking the rocky beach, there is a palpable energy between us—as if someone has replaced our cheese and crackers with figs and honey, a dozen oysters, shark fin soup, and the powdered horn of a rhinoceros. Jomo doesn’t touch me all day, except with his relentless, piercing gaze

Ugh. Hardy is a better writer than this, and while she’s clearly trying to play off these clichés—winking at them, gleefully layering them like a wedding cake—they just don’t land well.

There are bright spots. Hardy’s parents are lovingly portrayed, and their personalities pop (“My mother, at age thirty-two, had a fibroid tumor in her uterus the size of a canteloupe,” Hardy writes. “There’s a picture of it in our family photo album, which she refuses to remove”). Then there’s the unique joy of watching a grown woman earn all the adult merit badges that many of us take for granted: dancing with strangers, vacationing on her own, visiting Planned Parenthood, venturing into a sex shop, relishing her first taste of whiskey. Hardy is a fun person, and it comes through in her writing.

But overall, Confessions suffers from the absence of a competent editor reining her in. We follow her to work, waitressing. We admire her shoe collection. We watch her finish a poetry degree, buy a condo, lose her virginity, write her Modern Love column, and cel-

ebrate birthday after birthday, all without a clear sense of where her story is going and when it is going to end. And when that last page does finally come, we’re missing the answers to pressing questions—among them, where Hardy stands with her former church and her faith. Hardy is an accomplished poet and, I would argue, essayist. But Confessions makes clear that so far, her voice is stronger in shorter mediums.

THEATER

Don’t Let’s Do Anything

A Crusty-Punk Waiting for Godot

BY BRENDAN KILEY

Last weekend, about an hour before sunset, the touristy end of Seattle’s waterfront was packed with its usual crowd of summer characters: fatigued-looking fathers in sandals fielding repeated requests from small children who wanted ice cream, plump ladies in flip-flops hauling themselves into bicycle taxis, a young white man strumming a guitar for spare change, an older black man blowing a trumpet for the same reason, and the inevitable grimylooking kids with backpacks and cardboard signs asking for donations, most of them wearing worn-down boots and ripped-up black denim decorated with beer bottle caps and faded patches with the names of bands.

Two of those apocalyptic-looking kids loitered at Waterfront Park, the next pier over from the new Ferris wheel. One of them stood at a railing, gazing intently across Puget Sound. The other sat on a wood pallet, trying to pull off a boot. The only notable differences between them and the other waterfront vagabonds were their slightly cleaner fingernails and their audience—a few dozen people sitting in folding chairs in the fading sunlight. The boot-puller (wearing a hunting cap with earflaps) stopped, sighed, and said: “Nothing to be done.” The sea-gazer (wearing a cap with tattered cloth taped on the back to protect his neck from the sun) turned and said: “I’m beginning to come round to that opinion.”

With that, Waiting for Godot, the second annual show by Arts on the Waterfront, had begun. The actors stuck closely to the text, but the show looked and felt different than other Godots. The actors were young. And they weren’t wearing the required bowler hats. That, explained AOTW artistic director

Mickey Rowe, was in direct violation of the wishes of the Samuel Beckett estate. But the company (whose first production last summer was a two-person Romeo and Juliet) didn’t want to produce another spare, theater-in-avacuum-style Waiting for Godot. AOTW performs on the waterfront because it wants to absorb all the energy, noise, and chaos of the city. (Its website credits “the city of Seattle and sunset” for lighting design.) The goal, Rowe said, is to “create a reality where some people might believe: ‘Oh yes, this scene could be happening right now, without an audience, somewhere else on the pier.”

Those changes are small, almost insignificantly cosmetic—as is the decision to have the cruel Pozzo, who shows up with one of his slaves, smoke a glass pot pipe instead of a tobacco pipe—but they shift the way the play lands. Beckett’s tramps still talk about their empty stomachs, their aching feet, how bad they smell, their sores and diseases, and whether this mystery man named Godot will ever show up and save them from their stasis. But AOTW’s small, stubborn insistence that Godot happen here and now gives the play a new jolt of electricity.

The two young tramps (Jay Myers as Vladimir and Spencer Hamp as Estragon) still have a few scraps of the mannered, stiff stage presence that afflicts almost all new actors. But they casually nailed the jokes about being so bored and so always slightly uncomfortable that even suicide sounds like a pleasant distraction: “What do we do now?” asked the more serious Vladimir. “Wait,” shrugged the more puppy-dog Estragon. “Yes, but while waiting.” “What about hanging ourselves?” “Hmm. It’d give us an erection.” “An erection!… Let’s hang ourselves immediately!” But the nearest tree branch looks weak, and Godot might show up. “Don’t let’s do anything,” they concluded. “It’s safer.”

Soon, Pozzo (an amiable yet sinister Ben Phillips, who looked like a suburban drug dealer who’s trying to look like Kevin Federline) showed up with his pot pipe, his chicken leg, and his slave named Lucky (Nate Pringle, whose military fatigues and scrambled manner made him seem like a shell-shocked veteran of the recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan) to help them pass the time.

In AOTW’s rebelliously updated Godot, the two homeless punks are patron saints of inertness—they talk for hours about not doing anything, not saying anything, not noticing anything, not knowing anything. They’re pathetic, but at least they have the power to make choices (even if they don’t use it very often). Lucky, the addled veteran (and perhaps drug addict?), is forced to do things by the greedy Pozzo, who is himself a slave to his own desires. In the end, the tramps are still stuck in a purgatory of their own making that is endlessly frustrating, and

that it gets interesting.

they keep our attention.

ART

Museums

BELLEVUE ARTS

MUSEUM

Rick Araluce: The Minutes, the Hours, the Days: Araluce constructs teeny, tiny, immaculately detailed spaces that look to have been abandoned five minutes ago or five years ago. In either case, there will be feelings of invasion and loneliness. Through Jan 5. Patti Warashina: Wit and Wisdom : A comprehensive retrospective of this Northwest artist’s strange and analytical ceramic sculptures. $10. Tues-Sun. Through Oct 27. 510 Bellevue Way NE, Bellevue, 425-519-0770.

FRYE ART MUSEUM

Buster Simpson // Surveyor : We can already thank Buster Simpson, elder of public art, for making bearable the Sea-Tac rental car garage with his new and luminous Carbon Veil and now he’s working on the seawall renovation that will not only look good but also keep the city from falling into the Salish Sea. This exhibition is a retrospective for Simpson, detailing his immense contribution to public art and good citizenship. Free. TuesSun. Through Oct 6. 704 Terry Ave, 622-9250.

OLYMPIC

SCULPTURE PARK

The Western Oracle: We Will Tear the Roof Off the Mother: Usually you can’t walk on the sculptures but NOT SO with Heather Hart’s large-scale installation. You can climb on it and go inside its attic. There, true to its oracle designation, it will grant you a wish if you spend a little time drumming on its reverberant walls facing Elliott Bay. You just have to pick which wish you want. Free. Ongoing. 2901 Western Ave, 654-3100.

SEATTLE ART MUSEUM

Fashion blockbuster! Future Beauty is three decades of design from the country that’s had the single greatest influence on experimental world fashion during that period: Japan. You’ll see 80 gowns, by creators from Issey Miyake, Rei Kawakubo, and Yohji Yamamoto to Junya Watanabe, plus videos of runway shows, photographs, and ephemera made in response by contemporary artists like Cindy Sherman. What will you wear? $17. Wed-Sun. Through Sept 8. 1300 First Ave, 625-8900.

WING LUKE MUSEUM

War Baby/Love Child: Mixed Race Asian American Art is a strong, varied traveling exhibition of 19 artists across the spans of their careers—some famous, some not—working in traditional media as well as video, installation, and “other approaches,” considering everything from US wars in Asia to transracial adoption and, more generally, the racialization of humans. $12.95. Tues-Sun. Through Jan 19. 719 S King St, 623-5124.

Gallery

Openings

GREG KUCERA GALLERY

An American Knockoff : The masterly Roger Shimomura blends traditional Japanese and contemporary American styles (specifically comic art) in both technique and concept. Free. Reception Thurs Aug 22, 6-8 pm with artist talk 6:30 pm. Tues-Sat. Through Sept 28. 212 Third Ave S, 624-0770.

KOBO AT HIGO

Father and daughter Etsuko and Koichi Ichikawa, both artists in their own right, join together for The Line That Runs Through “a conversation about art, craftsmanship, and beauty” between her burn drawings on paper and his ceramics. Reception Thurs Aug 22, 6-8 pm. Aug 22- Sept 21. 604 S Jackson St, 381-3000.

Continuing Exhibitions

4CULTURE

Recapitulation: Assassin Series

See review, page 23. Free. Mon-Fri. Through Aug 30. 101 Prefontaine Pl S

GHOST GALLERY

Jennifer Zwick: Symmetry, An

Ongoing Obsession : Images from one woman’s desire to see things line up properly. Free. Mon-Wed-Sun. Through Sept 9. 504 E Denny Way, #1, 832-6063.

LXWXH

Zwischerliecht: Zwischerliecht literally means “tweenlight,” which sounds more like a Christian boyband than a word for dusk. If there were ever a group that could capture the non-light of Pacific Northwest twilight, this is it. Six artists present work on the witching hour, including Whiting Tennis, Shaw Osha, and Susanna Bluhm. Free. Through Aug 31. 6007 12th Ave S

MIA GALLERY

The photographs of Fabrice Monteiro (based in Dakar) and Jim Naughten (working in southern Africa) show Africans responding to the forces of colonialization through clothing, brightly. Tues-Sun. Through Aug 30. 1203A 2nd Ave, 467-4927.

SHIFT STUDIO

Ruthie V.: See review, page 23. Free. Fri-Sat. Through Aug 31. 306 S Washington St, Ste 105, 679-8915.

Events

THE SALON IN THE FIELD

In one corner of a gorgeous 300 acres of wetland habitat in Kent, the artists Sarah Kavage and Adria Garcia will be creating an installation. You’re invited to watch them make it, and hear them talk about and host their influences over the course of several events. That includes huge swaths of braiding the wild grasses into woven sculpture. Check the website for details. Green River Natural Resources Area , south of 212th Street, east of the Green River. studiokabuya.com. Free. Through Sept 8. visualart@thestranger.com

READINGS

Wed 8/21

NO STRAIGHT LINES

This is a party to celebrate the release of No Straight Lines: Four Decades of Queer Comics. Local comics legends Ellen Forney and Roberta Gregory will be on hand, along with Straight Lines editor Justin Hall and cartoonist Erika Moen. Plus, there will be sexy trivia and an afterparty. Babeland, 707 E Pike St, 328-2914. Free. 6:30 pm. SARAH ZALE, JUDITH ROCHE

Two poets who used to live in Detroit read allegedly “bluecollar poems” to celebrate and reflect over the city they left behind. Zale and Roche will be introduced by Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken. Hugo House, 1634 11th Ave, 322-7030. Free. 7 pm.

Thurs 8/22

SEAN BEAUDOIN

Sean Beaudoin marks the debut of his new novel, Wise Young Fool, about a teenage rock-androller whose life has gone down the absolute wrong path, resulting in a 90-day stay at juvie. This event features what Beaudoin refers to as a “theatrical reading” with “free booze” and an “acoustic punk performance.” Elliott Bay Book Company, 1521 10th Ave, 624-6600. Free. 7 pm.

Fri 8/23

DANEA HORN

Chronic Resilience is a book about how to overcome chronic pain. University Book Store 4326 University Way NE, 6343400. Free. 7 pm.

NICOLE HARDY

See Stranger Suggests, page 21, and review, page 24. Hugo House, 1634 11th Ave, 3227030. Free. 7 pm.

RICK BASS

Bass is a novelist and naturalist who is very much loved in this part of the world. His new novel, All the Land to Hold Us, is about different people who use the dusty West Texas desert in different ways. Also, there’s

an elephant on the cover, so hopefully there’s some sort of an explanation in the book about that. Elliott Bay Book Company , 1521 10th Ave, 624-6600. Free. 7 pm.

Sat 8/24

SEATTLE ANARCHIST

BOOKFAIR

The Anarchist Bookfair will have a lot of small presses and authors. It should be fun. It’s on Saturday and Sunday, with Saturday running from 10 am to 5 pm and Sunday running from 11 am to 5 pm. Vera Project Republican St and Warren Ave N, 956-8372. seattleanarchistbookfair.org. Free. 10 am.

PONGO TEEN WRITING

PROJECT: GROUP READING

I am a big fan of the Pongo Teen Writing Project, which teaches teenagers in jail and in psychiatric care how to express themselves through poetry. I’ve seen a class, and it really works. Pongo will be awarded a Seattle Mayor’s Arts Award on August 30, and if you’re curious about why they received this honor, you should come to this reading, in which Pongo teachers will read work by some students. Elliott Bay Book Company 1521 10th Ave, 624-6600. Free. 5 pm.

Sun 8/25

ROSA PARK Park is the editor-in-chief of Cereal Magazine , which is a very pretty,

neo-bluegrass trio with deep roots in Seattle’s fringe-theater scene. The Half Brothers Brand Old-Time Variety Show is their first full-length theater project, which begins as a mild parody of old-fashioned, advertisersponsored radio shows. But things get more interesting as the show progresses. The announcer cheerfully reads off increasingly sinister corporate sponsors and slogans—’Where results are only part of our business’—and the songs take a hard left turn from goofball throwbacks to harrowing contemporary subjects. David Nixon and his banjo, for example, lead a haunting bluegrass ballad about home ownership: ‘I’ve never felt more American than when my debt keeps me up at night.’ The cast comes alive—with a sharp, mournful, Chaplin-esque comedy—when they quit making fun of old-timey clichés and start wrestling with what actually scares them.” (Brendan Kiley) Annex Theater, 1100 E Pike St, annextheatre.org. $5-$10. Fri-Sat at 11 pm. Through Aug 30.

ICICLE CREEK

THEATER FESTIVAL

Two nights, two award-winning plays. The first night is a performance of the hedge fund drama The Private Sector and the second is A Perfect Robot which is about a perfect robot. Bullitt Cabaret 700 Union Street, 292-7676. acttheatre.

PRECIOUS

Tues 8/27

of the book. Third Place Books 17171 Bothell Way NE, 3663333. Free. 7 pm.

MICHAEL PERRY Perry now has authored a fairly decent bookshelf-sized collection of books about moving to a rural Wisconsin town and just observing life. The first book in the series, Population 485, was about being an EMT in a small town, and it was incredibly moving. His new one focuses on an elderly man and is titled Visiting Tom: A Man, a Highway, and the Road to Roughneck Grace Third Place Books Ravenna 6504 20th Ave. NE, 366-3333. Free. 7 pm. readings@thestranger.com

THEATER

Opening and Current Runs

BEAUTY OF THE FATHER Pulitzer Prize-winner Nilo Cruz’s play about love, loss, and ghosts. Latino Theater Projects at Burien Little Theater, 425 SW 144th St, 242-5180. latinotheatreprojects.org. $7-$20. Fri-Sat at 8 pm, Sun at 2 pm. Through Aug 25.

DAS BARBECÜ A two-hour retelling of part of Wagner’s

cabaret, hosted by

Jasper ( I Can Hear You…But I’m Not Listening ), in which guest artists “will be sharing their sick, hilarious, and ultimately relatable familial skeletons.” Proceeds from each performance will go to a family in the Seattle arts community that is experiencing “an unforeseen crisis.” Tickets at the door, no pre-sales. Rendezvous, 2320 Second Ave, 441-5823. $10. Every third Wed at 7:30 pm. THE HALF BROTHERS BRAND OLD-TIME VARIETY SHOW “The Half Brothers are a

this point by four means. The first is a research project conducted by a 42-yearold professor who studies dying Eastern European languages. (She also happens to be a lesbian, pregnant, and having an affair with one of her graduate students.) Second is the subject of this research project, Cleva, a babushka who is one of the last remaining speakers of a dying language. Third is a gorilla in a zoo, which was trained by scientists to speak or at least communicate with human beings. Fourth is the thing becoming a languagespeaking animal—a human—in the professor’s womb.” (Charles Mudede) Annex Theater, 1100 E Pike St, www.annextheatre. org. $5-$20. Thurs-Sat at 8 pm. Through Aug 31.

THE RAFT

Two video-store clerks, adrift at sea, plan an epic disaster movie they hope to make. Theater 4 Seattle Center House, 4th Floor, 305 Harrison St. rockpapertheater.com. $10. Fri-Sat at 8 pm. Through Sept 14.

SISTER ACT

Based on the Whoopi Goldberg-disguised-as-a-nun movie. Paramount Theater , 911 Pine St, 292-2787. stgpresents.org. $25-$85. Tues-Thurs at 7:30 pm, Fri at 8 pm, Sat at 2 and 8 pm, Sun at 1 and 6:30

WORN OUT

BY MARTI JONJAK

WEAR THE TROPICS AT THROWBACKS NORTHWEST

In a snug Capitol Hill space with nooks and stairs and bright windows, Throwbacks Northwest has neatly stacked the tall white walls to the ceiling. They’ve got weedoriented novelties; clunky metal boom boxes; stacks of cassettes you’d forgotten you used to own, like The Best of Bill Cosby and Bell Biv Devoe’s Poison; and tons of vintage sportswear and hiphop apparel. This includes a good selection of men’s acid-washed jeans ($30–$50), a wildly luxurious collectible snapback hat embellished with real snakeskin ($700), women’s high-waist jean shorts ($20–$50), and a black T-shirt depicting the Tasmanian Devil posed intimidatingly beneath a mass of silvery-purple lightning bolts—these represent the condition of his soul ($25). “I distressed them myself with a sander. It took all day, and at the end of it, I blew my nose and all these bits of denim came out,” says owner Mark Musgrave.

overdo it. No matter the setting, wearing garments patterned with so much jungle foliage brings the sensation of being, well, not exactly outdoors, but maybe at a fantasy cocktail lounge—the kind with lipstick-stained coconut-shell cocktail cups, glazed blowﬁsh lanterns, and sweet-andsour pork skewers served aﬂame, where the dust and adventure and cocaine residue await you in every corner.

Hawaiian shirts have been around since the ’30s, but they’ve drifted in and out of popularity, with the last boom occurring in the mid-’80s. Valued celebrities wore them like crazy, including Tom Selleck and Sammy Hagar and Chunk from The Goonies, but Al Pacino’s troubled Tony

There’s also a portable sidewalk rack of men’s 1960s to 1990s era Hawaiian shirts ($10). The customers just can’t get enough of them, Mark says, what with their sizzling shades and boxy cuts, and the frantic prints of neon palm fronds, or swaying pineapples, or vaguely apocalyptic pink-skied landscapes, or cockatoos holding tiny ukuleles, or islands full of mystery. Or, heck—you name it! Don’t be afraid to

WEDDING CRASHER

BY SARAH GALVIN

ERIC LANE BARNES AND PAUL ROSENBERG’S BIG HITCH

Eric Lane Barnes and Paul Rosenberg

August 3, 2013, at the Triple Door

Eric Lane Barnes and Paul Rosenberg’s wedding at the Triple Door was, as Paul described it, “a variety show with a wedding in the middle—with Mexican wrestlers.” Paul kicked off the evening playing piano beneath constellations of tiny lights. The couple said they chose singersongwriter Lisa Koch as their ofﬁciant because she’s hilarious, and she was— she introduced singer Lee Bocklund by saying, “He has a velvety, chocolaty voice. It will make you touch yourself. I have been, backstage, all night.” Paul and Eric are both members of Captain Smartypants, a gay vocal comedy group. They sang a beautiful a cappella version of Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams,” causing the woman next to me to sigh, “Oh, I love that song.” Soon afterward, she yelled, “I want to see their butts!”

Montana Scarface character did it best. His featured a zesty tropical palette, brightening the catastrophe scene with its maraschino-cherry reds and cigarette-ember oranges, and there were geometric tigers and weird yellow clusters of stripes and plants. Completing the look, he wore khakis spotted in fresh blood and styled his hair into a moist pile.

Send fashion tips to marti@thestranger.com

men, in spandex luchador suits, led a series of toasts that ranged from hilarious (“Their heads are so shiny… I just want to rub them”) to heartfelt (a toast to marriage equality that elicited resounding cheers and much happy crying). Three archaic wedding traditions were performed: the eating of an oatcake (okay, maybe it was an oyster cracker), the sacriﬁce of a (ceramic) duckling, and the tickling of the mother-in-law, who was giggling before the “traditional” feather boa even touched her.

During the ceremony, the couple drank from a water bottle used at their commitment ceremony in Chicago 19 years ago, when their families ﬁrst welcomed their

Video congratulations were sent by Eric’s out-of-town family members, including their toddler nephew, who sang “Buenas Noches” and did an adorable dance. Eric’s mother sent her love to Paul and Eric and their “sweet, sweet dog.” The couple’s best

beloved “out-laws.” “We’re here today to complete that commitment made in 1994,” Lisa said. “Because we can. Today, it becomes real.” Eric and Paul kissed, and their loved ones roared applause for a long, happy marriage being honored at last.

Comment on Wedding Crasher at THESTRANGER.COM

BETH CROOK

BE LIKE TONY MONTANA Hawaiian shirts are back.

THE STRANGER AT LAST Two shiny heads, legally united.

Stumbling Goat

Patrick McKee Paley’s Place & Ben Bettinger Imperial vsScott Staples Restaurant Zoe & Jeremy Ravetz, Quinn’s Pub Aaron Barnett St. Jack vsGordon Wishard La Medusa

CHOW

Keep It Simple, Sausage

A Contemplation of the Frankfurter Form at the Augustus

BY PAUL CONSTANT

The impulse with sausages is always to go over the top. The act of sausage making is so intrinsically extravagant—the grinding, the smooshing, the wild textural

journey—that people just don’t know when to quit.

It starts with a little fennel. Why wouldn’t you add a little fennel to a sausage, right? Then maybe you throw in some spicy peppers, or rosemary. Next thing you know, your damned sausage is a Thanksgiving dinner, a tube smashed full of cranberries and minced pine nuts and three kinds of cheese, and, if you’re lucky, some kind of meat. So restaurants that promise homemade sausages are often a siren’s call to disaster, resulting in a sausage frankensteined together from a bunch of foodie buzzwords.

The Augustus 3601 Fremont Ave N, 547-5103 theaugustusseattle.com

This is not the case—with one notable exception—at the Augustus, a Fremont bar that promises sausage nirvana in a dimly lit,

perfect example of a sausage done right: It’s a burnished brown, spicy but not hot, and about as juicy as sausages can get while still staying in one solid piece. (None of the sausages at the Augustus snap when you bite into them, which disappointed a homemade-sausage expert I brought along with me, but when a sausage is this ﬂavorful and juicy, who needs a pop in the mouth?) It’s topped with caramelized onions and bacon—or, according to the menu, “Onion Bacon Gastrique,” but since we’re

Aesthetically, these are ﬁne sausages. And they’re not too conceptually dense, either.

talking about sausages, let’s just call it onions and bacon—and it’s the kind of thing you can happily eat without dousing it in any of the house-made condiments. This is the solid center of the menu: a simple sausage, made well. If you’re looking for something heartier, go with the 99, a spicy Italian sausage covered in onions and peppers, which are then drenched in a house-made cheese sauce. It’s not the gut-bomb it sounds like. The cheese is mild and smooth, complementing the sausage rather than drowning it, and the delicious, chewy white roll (from Mario’s Bakery, way out in Kent) holds up admirably, considering all the grease and sauce it has to contain. If you’re eating your way through the menu, by this point, the Augustus is shaping up to be quite the enjoyable sausage fest.

But then comes the Augustus’s folly. It’s called the Roper. Get a load of the ambition laid out on the menu: “Beef Brisket, Pork Shoulder, Horseradish stuffed Sausage served with Sautéed Mushrooms and Garlic Aioli.” If you’re a hungry drunk out to stuff your belly, this is probably the item on the menu that would draw your attention. Resist that impulse. The Roper doesn’t taste of brisket, or horseradish, or barbecue. Instead, it just tastes a little bit gamy, and then it sits there, unimpressive. It’s a classic sausage overreach, trying to represent everything and instead tasting like pretty much nothing.

Thank God, then, for the Texan. This barbecued chicken sausage is possibly the tastiest of the lot—with its ﬁery zing and its smoky aftertaste, it’s everything the Roper promises and doesn’t deliver. And topped as it is with more barbecue sauce and some of the crunchy, fresh coleslaw, the Texan represents the height of the Augustus’s potential as a restaurant. It’s an exceptional sausage.

casual setting. The Augustus, which opened at the end of last year, features an array of sausages priced at $10 a pop, accompanied by Tim’s Cascade Chips or, even better, housemade coleslaw. The sausages are all made next door, at Hunger. They’re served the way sausages should be served: on wax paper, with a repurposed cardboard carrying case for a six-pack of beer loaded full of condiments. (The condiments are classy stuff, too, with a habañero vinegar for the chips and several variations of mayonnaise, along with mustard and ketchup.)

Aesthetically, these are ﬁne sausages. They’re not too big, not too overstuffed, not too skimpy. And they’re not too conceptually dense, either. The Portuguese linguica is a

The Augustus aims to be a neighborhood bar, stocked with a good selection of cold beer. It’s got some tall chairs and tables lining the wall, some lawn furniture out on the patio, and a few comfy couches out back, by the big windows. There’s a large menu of bar snacks that all do the trick, including the spiced warm nuts ($4)—a ramekin full of greasy, heated mixed nuts that will leave you licking your fingers—and baskets of flavored buttered popcorn. The apple-pie-spice-and-sugar popcorn ($3) is sweet but not kettle-corn sweet, and makes for a nice, informal cap to the meal. With all the goddamned delicious sausages flying out of the kitchen, who has room for dessert?

Comment on sausages at THESTRANGER.COM/CHOW

SAUSAGE PARTY Meet the Texan at the Augustus.

MOLLY BAUER

DRNIKING WIHT CHARLSE MUDEDE

BY CHARLES MUDEDE

DUSK TO DUSK

I ordered the huge Mediterranean plate, and it arrived shortly after the server brought a glass of wine for me (St. Joseph’s pinot noir) and a glass of something crazy for my partner (Rachel’s Moscow Mule: “Vodka, Rachel’s Ginger Beer, lime”).

It was dusk when the Mediterranean plate was nearly ﬁnished—the olives, fougasse bread, hummus, baba ghanoush, feta, Israeli couscous salad, and various green vegetables were being transformed into our bodies. A white train passed. Another round was ordered. And the dusk was growing deeper and more magical. Next to our table was group of cyclists (white and in their 30s and 40s) who were eating snacks and talking about everything. They were not unpleasant or obnoxious, but they did occasionally laugh a little too loudly. Just before the day became completely night,

St. Dames

4525 Martin Luther King Jr. Way S, stdames.com

We were at St. Dames, a little place that’s near the road that leads up to Fou Lee Market (“Cruise on the hill, getting food at Fou Lee/Gonna take more than a few to fool me/Only get this timing if you study Kool G, ooh-wee” —Blue Scholars) and down to the Columbia Funeral Home and Crematory (doing the business of dead people since 1907). Between these two points is one of the stations of our city’s new and expanding light-rail system, Columbia City Station. Near it is that giant shovel sculpture that’s supposed to symbolize the globalness of the community. From the cafe’s windows, you can see the trains arriving and departing, and the people standing or sitting on the trains. These are the citizens of the future.

Also from the cafe’s windows, you can see Muslim women walking by with cell phones tucked in their hijabs. And down the street is Shiil Grocery & Halal Meat, and inside this grocery store, you will always ﬁnd a man who is in Seattle in body, but is in the Muslim world in spirit and cyberspace.

Chow Events

Thurs 8/22

CELEBRITY GRILLING WITH SIGI SCHMID

Daniel’s Broiler on Lake Union invites you “to mix and mingle with the Seattle Sounders FC coach Sigi Schmid... Sigi will join Chef Ayhan Barlas to grill on the deck overlooking Lake Union.” Fifty percent (!) of the night’s sales go to America SCORES Seattle, providing elementary school students from underserved communities with an after-school program combining literacy and athletics. Daniel’s Broiler , 809 Fairview Place N, 621-8262. danielsbroiler.com. 5-7 pm.

Fri 8/23–Sun 8/25

CHEHALIS GARLIC FEST Road trip! It’s the Chehalis Garlic Fest, with “creative garlic cuisine, crafts, and antiques.” Southwest Washington Fairgrounds , 2555 N National Ave, Chehalis. chehalisgarlicfest.com. $5, kids 7 and under free. Fri/Sat noon-8 pm, Sun 10 am-5 pm.

Sat 8/24

ICE CREAM-O-RAMA Road trip! Head to Snoqualmie Ice Cream’s sustainable farm in Snohomish for ice cream (of course), barbecue, Top Pot doughnuts/coffee, interactive gardening sessions (hottt!), the petting of alpacas and miniature donkeys, and live music (including Caspar

Babypants). It’ll be fun for the whole family, as they say. Snoqualmie Ice Cream Cafe and Farm , 21106 86th Ave SE, Snohomish, 360668-8535. snoqualmieicecream.com. Free admission, $1 “bites” of ice cream, barbecue, etc. 11 am-3 pm.

TOAST OF THE CASCADES Red, red (and white) wine from Washington and smooth, smooth jazz from David Sanborn and Bob James. Starred for wineand-smooth-jazz-lovers only (you know who you are). Snoqualmie Casino, 37500 SE North Bend Way, Snoqualmie, 425-888-1234. snocasino.com. $57.10-$73.60. 5:30 pm.

Sun 8/25

MELROSE MARKET STREET FESTIVAL

It’s a celebration by and for the delightful Melrose Market, featuring food from Sitka & Spruce, Terra Plata, Homegrown, and Mamnoon, as well as the fine work of Rain Shadow Meats, Taylor Shellfish, and the Calf & Kid. Also: live music and a Hilliard’s beer garden, which benefits Teen Feed. Melrose Market Studio , 1501 Melrose Ave. Admission free. 11 am-4 pm.

SNOUTS & STOUTS

Every last Sunday of the month, Little Water Cantina roasts a couple whole hogs’ worth of localbeer-brined pork tacos: You get a plate of those, a matching beer, and live music, too. Weather permitting, the party’s on the patio with its awesome

they requested the bill. And while they waited for credit cards to be approved, this conversation drifted to our table.

The man: “We need to go now, while there is still light.”

The woman: “Don’t worry, there will be enough light while we are cycling.”

The man: “Yes, that’s right. But by the time we get to my place, it’ll be too dark to see my tomatoes.”

Comment on Drniking wiht Charlse Mudede at THESTRANGER.COM/CHOW

Lake Union view. Little Water Cantina , 2865 Eastlake Ave E, 3974940. littlewatercantina. com. $17.

SIX-DOLLAR SUNDAYS On the last Sunday of every month, everything on Tini Bigs’ regular food menu is only $6 from 4 to 10 p.m., which will help cushion the martinis you’ll have more money for. Tini Bigs Lounge, 100 Denny Way, 284-0931. tinibigs. com. $6.

Mon 8/26

BIG BOTTLE MONDAYS Throughout the summer, Quinn’s offers all of their large-format bottles of beer for half-price on Monday nights. Starred (and very much so) for beer lovers! Quinn’s , 1001 E Pike St, 325-7711. quinnspubseattle.com.

Ongoing

IPA WEEK

During 10 days in August, Tap House Grill introduces 40 new IPAs, including limited-release beers, and donates 50 cents from each pint sold to Farestart. Starred for a good cause, an extra-long week, and lots of IPA. Tap House Grill , 1506 Sixth Ave, 816-3314. taphousegrill. com. Through Aug 25. $3 MARTINIS AT VITO’S The great Vito’s on First Hill celebrates its 60th birthday by giving you $3 martinis, all through this fine month of August. Vito’s Restaurant & Lounge , 927 Ninth Ave, 397-4053. vitosseattle. com. $3. Through Aug 31.

HARLOT’S HARVEST RELEASE PARTY Pike Brewing Company says: “This Seasonal Ale is big, bold, and voluptuous; with a burst of caramel and molasses [and] a smooth sweetness reminiscent of pumpkin pie, and the boldness of a monastic-style double ale. Savor it naked or clothed in the bounty of the season!” SWEET. Glasses of the Harlot are $4 at this party, and snacks and live music by the Surly Tarts are complimentary. Pike Brewing Company, 1415 First Ave, 622- 6044. pikebrewing. com. 5 pm. YES ON I-522! Chef Jim Drohman feels so strongly about the labeling of genetically modified foods, he’s going to feed you snacks at his lovely Cafe Presse while you get educated about it. “Yes on 522 will certainly be outspent by Big Ag, so all we have is organizing,” he says. Come learn what the hell GMOs are, what foods they’re in, why labeling them is important, and what you can do to help. Come! (And call 709-7674 to RSVP so he knows how many to expect.) Cafe Presse , 1117 12th Ave, 709-7674. cafepresseseattle.com. $5.22 suggested donation. 5:30-6:30 pm; also Sept 17, 5:30-6:30 pm; Oct 1, 8:30-9:30 am; and Oct 17, 5:30-6:30 pm.

HAVE A SEAT At St. Dames. CHARLES MUDEDE

MUSIC

Where Did the Time Go?

A Brief History of How Waxwing Came, Went, and Left Us All Wanting More

BY MEGAN SELING

There is a short list of bands that I carry around in my head— bands that are incredible but, sadly, defunct and forgotten without ever getting the recognition I felt they deserved. Until

recently, Waxwing were near the top of that list.

In the late ’90s and early ’00s, Waxwing were a staple in the Seattle music community—they regularly played all-ages shows at the Paradox, the Old Fire House, and various basements. People were drawn to their songs, which carried moments of both subtle, delicate beauty and overwhelming guitar onslaught. While the band was able to develop a cult following—there are more than just a few tattoos of the band’s logo out there—Waxwing ultimately took a backseat to its members’ other musical careers. Singer Rocky Votolato was, rightfully, ﬁnding more and more success as a solo artist; Rocky’s guitarist brother, Cody, was part of the Blood Brothers’ snotty sonic storm. The band announced their ofﬁcial split in 2005, but their albums One for the Ride and Nobody Can Take What Everybody Owns still stand up today.

been really nervous,” says Andrew. “I seem to have blocked it from my memory.”

Waxwing Sat Aug 24, Vera Project, 7:30 pm, $13, all ages

1997: Rocky’s 15-year-old brother Cody joins the band. “When I ﬁrst met Cody, he was probably 12 or 13,” says Rudy. “He was totally the annoying younger brother who wanted to be in on everything! Not to worry, Code, I don’t think of you that way anymore.”

March 11, 2000: The now-Grammynominated Death Cab for Cutie opens for Waxwing at the Kirkland Teen Center. “That is crazy to think about now,” says Rocky.

August 2000: Cody’s other band, the Blood Brothers, release their debut fulllength, This Adultery Is Ripe.

October 2000: Waxwing appear on the cover of beloved biweekly newspaper the Rocket. The paper suddenly folds just a few weeks later.

November 2000: Rocky stars in the straight-edge-versus-punk cult classic Edge of Quarrel, alongside other local music luminaries including Dann Gallucci and John Pettibone.

February 2002: The Blood Brothers release their second album, March On Electric Children. The Blood Brothers’ popularity would play a role in Waxwing’s eventual demise. “Blood Brothers started getting more serious around the same time that Rocky was putting more energy into his solo project,” says Cody. “We fit Waxwing in when possible, but eventually we felt that it would be best to have a final couple shows and put the band to rest. We wanted to have a poignant finish rather than just have the band fizzle and die.”

October 2002: Waxwing release their last full-length album, Nobody Can Take What Everybody Owns. The Blood Brothers sign to V2, a subsidy of Virgin Records, and Rocky releases two solo records and one EP in two years.

November 2005: After being inactive for some time, Waxwing announce, “We are ﬁnally calling it quits.”

December 16–17, 2005: Waxwing play their farewell shows at the Vera Project and the Old Fire House in Redmond, respectively. “It was real sentimental for a lot of different reasons” says Rudy of the last show. “We played songs from every album, played a cover from one of our favorite bands, Jawbreaker. It’s cool that it was at the Old Fire House, which is an all-ages club that we all grew up at. I saw my ﬁrst concerts as a kid there.”

Adds Cody: “It was a really organic decision to do those last two shows. It wasn’t dramatic, but really surreal. It was cool to feel that things were coming to a close with a positive intention. It made everything feel special. The energy of the whole night was moving, sad, powerful, and hopeful.”

WHAT'S CRAPPENING?

• At last Friday’s edition of the free Concerts at the Mural series—where Mudhoney, the Grizzled Mighty, and Dude York thoroughly entertained a packed all-ages lawn—a man with a tiny dog poking out of his backpack was denied entrance into the beer garden due to the “no dogs” rule. He protested that the animal was a service pet, citing the “service” to be the cuteness of his little friend. His entrance was still denied due to a lack of ofﬁcial cuteness paperwork.

• On Sunday, August 11, hiphop ofﬁcially turned 40 years of age—the anniversary of the very ﬁrst party Clive “Kool Herc” Campbell threw in the South Bronx. Can every genre pinpoint the exact moment it was born?

• Seattle’s premier Blink-182 cover band, Silly Goose (Jenn Ghetto of Carissa’s Wierd and S, members of Grand Archives), have announced the upcoming release of a debut self-titled 7-inch on End of Time Records, out on August 27. I know what you’re wondering, and yes, “All the Small Things” will be on it!

• Seattle has a new underground-rock supergroup: WOTT. The band—Dean Whitmore (Unnatural Helpers), Tom Ojendyk (co-owner of Dirty Knobby Records), Jeffery Taylor (Climax Golden Twins, Wall of Sound), Nick Turner (Walls, Society Nurse)—is gearing up for its ﬁrst gig, opening for French drone-psych magus High Wolf at Electric Tea Garden on September 9.

But emotional hearts burst open with happiness earlier this year when Waxwing announced that they were reuniting! For those who are just learning about Waxwing, here’s a brief history lesson of how four teenagers came and left, like so many bands do, but were ultimately able to cultivate an impression big enough to call for a reunion nearly a decade after their demise.

1996: Waxwing are born. The band starts out as a trio with singer Rocky Votolato, age 19, bassist Andrew Hartley, and drummer Rudy Gajadhar, both 16. Rocky asked Andrew to join the band after the two became friends in their high school cartooning class— “I remember giving Rocky a Grieg tape—yes, a tape—to try and impress him with the fact I listened to classical music,” says Andrew.

1996: Waxwing play their ﬁrst show at the Velvet Elvis in Seattle, but no one can remember the exact date of the show. “I must have

Summer 1997: Waxwing go on their first tour. “We had to get my buddy Justin Deary to fill in on guitar because our mom didn’t feel like Cody was old enough to go on tour yet,” says Rocky. “I booked the tour with phone numbers I compiled from different people I met at punk shows—it was pretty sketchy at best. The first show we did out of town was in Portland, and I remember looking out and seeing only one person there, and that was the girl running sound! I remember the moment that she went out to have a cigarette, and we were completely alone in the room… I asked the dudes if we should keep playing. We said, ‘Fuck it,’ and just tried to have a good time and treat it like a practice for the next night.”

1998: Waxwing release their ﬁrst 7-inch on Henry’s Finest Recording.

Fall 1998: The band goes on another tour, this time with Seattle’s Sharks Keep Moving. “We played at a place called the Pickle Patch in Goleta, California, with a band called Mile Marker,” Rocky recalls. “After the show, I remember hanging out with Steve Aoki, and he made us all hand-screen-printed Dim Mak Tshirts. I wore mine ’til it basically fell apart.”

1999: The band releases their ﬁrst fulllength, For Madmen Only, on Second Nature Recordings. A local following begins to grow, as does a seemingly relentless show schedule—their turbulent, emotional sound earns them spots on bills with everyone from Hot Water Music to Boy Sets Fire.

January 2013: After talking about it for about a year, Waxwing quietly have their ﬁrst practice since breaking up nearly a decade ago. “There wasn’t a real pretense with the ﬁrst rehearsal,” says Cody. “We just wanted to play the old songs and see how they felt. Rocky and I had already written a few ideas for new songs, but we wanted to make sure that the band felt right before making any solid plans for a show or new album. Everything came naturally and felt great. I feel like we immediately knew it was gonna work out.”

“I have to admit I was feeling a little out of shape and mad at my younger self for writing such intricate drum parts,” adds Rudy, “but it was great playing together again. I think we were all surprised at how easily it came back to us on playing the old tunes.”

March 2013: After some successful practices, Waxwing announce on Facebook,“ It’s good to be back…”

August 2013: Waxwing will play Friday, August 23, at the Black Lodge as a warm-up, and then Saturday, August 24, at the Vera Project. Rocky conﬁrms that new music is on the way, too. “When some of the new ideas we’ve been working on started to take shape, I knew we made a really good decision getting back together. It’s been a really great time so far, and I’m super-excited to start a new chapter for the band.”

Comment on Waxwing tattoos at THESTRANGER.COM/MUSIC

• Is that Selena Gomez song “Come & Get It” the best junk-food pop song this side of Tay Swiff?

Coolio is selling his entire music catalog in order to expand his cooking career.

• One year after appearing on the cover of The Stranger, Macklemore appears on this week’s cover of Rolling Stone. Two years after appearing on the cover of The Stranger, Lisa Dank was a headliner at last weekend’s Hempfest and has remained dog-theft-free. Congratulations to both.

• Whole Foods Market has started to carry vinyl records and LSTN headphones at select stores in California—but none so far in Seattle. Good luck with that, Whole Foods; at least try to go deeper with your stock than Starbucks does.

• Grammy winner Coolio is selling the royalty rights to his entire music catalog in order to expand his cooking career (a series of follow-up cookbooks to his 2009 best seller Cookin’ with Coolio and a web series of the same name). For those impossibleto-shop-for friends, “Gangsta’s Paradise” would make a really great gift.

NEWS, REVIEWS, AND DOGS BY HEMPFEST DORITOS

JOSH BIS

Silly Goose

WAXWING “We just wanted to play the old songs and see how they felt.”

PEREN VOTOLATO

SOUND CHECK

INTERVIEWS BY TRENT MOORMAN

GLENN DANZIG: MACABRE AMERICAN HERO

During the Great Seattle Electrical Storm of August 9, 2013, I stood on top of an antenna tower at 19th and Madison listening to “Satan’s Child,” off Danzig’s 1999 release 6:66 Satan’s Child. I screamed the word “whore” at the billionvolt flashes blitzing across the night sky. Then a lightning bolt struck the sword I was holding over my head, and when I woke up, I was trapped inside Glenn Danzig’s right bicep. His biceps are huge, so there was lots of room. As I walked around, I thought, “So this is where it all happens—the Danzig nerve center.” Since 1982, the horror-punk, gothic, and morbid metal of his bands the Misfits, Samhain, and Danzig have left an extremely solid footprint in the phylum of heavy music. He was born Glenn Allen Anzalone on June 23, 1955, in Lodi, New Jersey, and the husky baritone/tenor’s uncompromising, no-qualms, quick-tempered ways have made him a cultural phenomenon (with an Adult Swim Metalocalypse cartoon character modeled after him). Entrepreneurially, he’s always at work, with 17 studio albums under his occult buckled belt, his own record label called Evilive, and Verotik, his own adult-oriented comic book publishing company. I spent the day in Danzig’s bicep, reading a sexual and violent comic called Satanika; then he sneezed, and I was free. In celebration of my interview with Danzig, I wrote him a summertime campfire ghost story called “The Ice-Cream Man.” I read it out loud and asked him to imagine we were in the woods: There’s a killer. He’s an ice-cream man, and he goes around in his ice-cream truck killing kids. He’s way deranged, wears thick glasses, shakes and sweats a lot. Freaky music-box music blares from his truck. He REALLY hates kids who get Drumsticks. When he was younger, his parents never let him get anything from the ice-cream truck. He thinks he’s a “genius”— an artistic killer, like Hannibal Lecter. But he’s a dumbass and gets discovered when he serves a cop a Push-Up with a kid’s pinky finger sticking out. He escapes into nearby woods, EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE CAMPING. People say, late at night, they can hear the sound of his music-box music. The Ice-Cream Man is out there, Glenn. If you’ve ever gotten something from an ice-cream truck, he’s coming for you. And he’s pissed.

Too soft?

guitar, and Steve Zing on bass. Then Doyle comes out at some point, and we go into a Misﬁts set. I think this will be pretty much the last time we’ll be doing anything like this. It’s really cool, and it’s always great with Doyle onstage. But after this, it’s time for new ground.

What’s the latest on your covers album?

Danzig with X-Misﬁts

Axeman Doyle

w/Scar the Martyr and Huntress

Wed Aug 28, Showbox Sodo, 7:30 pm, $35 adv/$39 DOS, all ages

It’ll be out sometime before Christmas. Got a new deal for distribution. I’ve been wanting to do a covers record for a long time. There’ll be some weird ones on there. Maybe a ZZ Top song [laughs]. Got a Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra duet from 1967 called “Some Velvet Morning” that I’m singing with Cherie Currie of the Runaways—she sounds so good on it. Also did one by Davie Allan & the Arrows called “Devil’s Angels,” from a biker ﬁlm in the ’60s starring John Cassavetes. We were going for the sound I was doing in the late ’70s, and I think it came out pretty good. There’s also gonna be some Black Sabbath on there, and Elvis, of course.

Is punk music dead?

Bands that call themselves punk these days aren’t punk. It’s someone’s idea of punk, but it’s not punk.

What got you into playing music?

My hatred of everything [laughs]. When we started, we hated disco and FM arena-rock shit by those terrible ’70s bands so much—Journey and Foreigner and all that crap. Corporate bullshit shoved down people’s throats. I started putting people together and playing in New Jersey and New York. Max’s Kansas City was a good spot to play in New York.

How does Glenn Danzig write a song?

Different ways. Sometimes it’ll be guitar lines ﬁrst. Other times, I’ll come up with lyrics and build the structure of the music around that. I’ll pick up a guitar and start messing around, and something will come to my head. Sometimes I write on the piano or come up with the drum pattern ﬁrst. It changes around; I’m always wanting to expand. For the band, I’ll bring the parts in and show everybody, and we’ll work on it until it’s ready. I recorded a new song with Doyle. We’ll see what happens with that. Also been working on some new Danzig.

What does Glenn Danzig do during downtime?

Downtime is rare. I actually run a few different companies. I try to work out, if I’m touring, but that’s hard because sometimes hotels won’t have gyms. Touring can be a drag sometimes. I like to read, so I’m always reading or going to bookstores—if I’m touring and have a day off, I’ll ﬁnd a bookstore. Bookstores are better than gyms with dudes on steroids.

When did you start getting into martial arts? Are you a hand-through-acinder-block type of guy?

Don’t mess with cinder blocks [laughs]. I started doing muay Thai in the ’80s, and started doing Jeet Kune Do somewhere around ’92, I believe.

When did you start appreciating horror?

Growing up, while everyone else was reading stupid shit, I was reading Edgar Allan Poe and Baudelaire. I loved horror movies, and I really liked underground comics. At some point, I discovered comics from Italy and Japan—none of this spandex superhero crap. There was this one older horror movie, Plan 9 from Outer Space. You see it now and might think it’s pretty bad, but as a child, man, the monsters got me.

You have some thoughts on Jesus from the Bible.

Who’s Jesus? [Laughs] I don’t buy into Jesus stuff. The Bible is just stories. Christians

have killed off other religions for centuries, and their priests rape kids. They accuse people who think differently and think for themselves of being evil? I don’t accept that. I think for myself. We should all have the right to individual thoughts and beliefs without being brainwashed.

Your songs deal with morbid, violent subject matter.

Way too soft. It needs more gore [laughs].

How about a twist? Jodie Foster goes undercover as her 12-year-old character from Taxi Driver to catch him, and then kills the shit out of him with a baseball bat. Then something draws her in and… SHE TURNS INTO THE ICE-CREAM MAN KILLER. Jodie Foster haunts these very woods.

That’s a start. It’s more of a comedy, though. I don’t know about Jodie Foster. Study up on some Verotik.

It’s the 25th anniversary of Danzig. Congrats. For this run of shows featuring Doyle, how’s it working?

Thank you. Well, Danzig comes out: me, John Kelly on drums, Tommy Victor playing

You’ve written songs for Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison.

Yeah, that was an honor for me to get to do that. They’re true musicians. The fact that they thought enough of my musicianship to ask me to write for them was a big honor.

You’re doing some shows in Europe as well. How does Europe differ for you from the United States?

In the United States, there are crazy, violent pits. Huge pits. Pits are sort of just now starting to happen in Europe. They go crazy, don’t get me wrong—we actually did a show not long ago in London at a smaller club, maybe 500 people, and pits were breaking out. Great show. Was glad to see that happening.

We used to get tons of shit for our videos because they’re really powerful, with the imagery, you know? The words, the erotically charged images, and the music—it does deal with an ominous side of things at times. And it’s usually not agreeable to video and record execs [laughs]. But I don’t want to do bland, safe, mainstream shit. I want to do uncensored things. I make my own decisions about my own music, and I only want to put things out the way they’re supposed to be.

What do you think about during shows?

If I told you what I think about some of the time, they’d probably put me away [laughs].

Comment on Glenn Danzig’s right bicep at THESTRANGER.COM/MUSIC

Danzig

NEVER HEARD OF ’EM

BY ANNA MINARD

Anna Minard claims to “know nothing about music.” For this column, we force her to listen to random records by artists considered to be important by music nerds.

THE SHAGGS Philosophy of the World (Third World)

Right now, I’m sitting outside a Starbucks in a big outdoor mall—don’t ask me why, it’s complicated. It’s a beautiful day, but all I can smell is asphalt, exhaust, and potted plants. At the table next to me are two attractive young women wearing TOMS shoes, talking earnestly about their relationship to God and how hard it is to read the Bible often enough. Surrounded by all of this wholesome Americanness and looking at the Shaggs album cover, I was thinking they wouldn’t be quite subversive enough for this moment.

how your parents are actually cooler than your stupid young friends. Did their parents write this song? It’s called “Who Are Parents” and it goes like this: “Parents are the ones who really care/Parents are the ones who are always there… Parents are the ones who will always understand.”

Oh my god, this is so bad! There’s a song about an imaginary friend named “Foot Foot.” It ends with a “drum solo” that sounds like an accident. I can’t get over it. I’m trying not to laugh so loud that all the mall people look at me weird, but it’s hard. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

What’s the deal with the Shaggs? Who are they? My guess is: home-schooled. (Second guess: joke band. Third guess: aliens. Fourth guess: Germans.) Let’s ﬁnd out, shall we, interwebs/liner notes?

Wrong! These freaks are amazing! What is going on? Right off the bat: “The skinny people want what the fat people’s got/ And the fat people want what the skinny people’s got/You can never please anybody in this world.” That’s called “Philosophy of the World.” And I don’t think they can really pronounce their r’s. I’m not sure they can play their instruments very well, either. They appear to have either no sense of rhythm or a really elevated sense of rhythm that’s so good it sounds like no rhythm. Ha-ha-ha… now they’re singing all about

MY PHILOSOPHY

YOU’RE HIGH, THE BAR IS LOW

Aye, what if I was to start my shit out like this: I’m usually homeboys with the same niggas I’m writing with, but this is hiphop, and these niggas should know what time it is. And that goes for Andrew Matson, Mike Ramos, Dave Segal, Charles Mudede, Clayton Holman, Todd Hamm—I got love for you all, but I’m trying to murder you niggas, trying to make your core readership act like they never heard of you niggas. See, somebody out there would probably be tripping like, Oh, El just went in. I didn’t, though. I just named some names—the easiest way to get the ﬁckle peanut gallery trippin’—and said I was coming for their necks. It should be obvious that I’m making a totally hackneyed swipe at Kendrick Lamar’s verse on Big Sean’s “Control” the biggest news in hiphop since everybody forgot about Trayvon Martin and a million other tragedies.

Anyway, did you hear it? He named names. He called himself the King of New York. He told everybody that he’s coming for their necks. That’s a lyrical wet dream if you’re the kind of person who frequently instagrams selﬁes like “IN THE STUDIO” or (re)tweets inspirational “RISE & GRIND” messages, or ones about how you’re doing some amazing shit right now, you just can’t talk about it, but this is your year. Or generally wastes breath telling the

It turns out the Shaggs were three teen sisters in the 1960s whose dad wanted them to become a famous rock band. This is like the auditory equivalent of parents having their kids’ ridiculous but funny drawings expensively framed. Because there’s something charmingly serious about the wackitude, a bunch of indie musicians have apparently always cited Philosophy of the World as seminal outsider art and/or one of their favorite albums. I mean, I appreciate weird, and I say go ahead and play this for your friends at a party sometime. It’s not getting near my top-10 list, but I sure can imagine our fairylike music editor Emily Nokes, who gave me this album, loving the shit out of it.

Wait, you guys, breaking news: The Bible girls just started bonding over how they both secretly have a bunch of fake teeth. Really! The world is amazing. I give this an “I love humans” out of 10.

fucking world what you’re about to do— well, shit, man, then that verse must’ve been fucking amazing for you to hear, ﬁve mics, book of Christ and Latter-day Saints. A virtual rallying cry for the culture of running your fucking jib. What happened to “Bad boys move in silence”? (Or even “Real Gs move in silence like lasagna”?) The big homie told you already: “If you talk about it, it’s a show—if you move about it, it’s a go.”

Because really, dude couldn’t have been serious. The illest cats in the game, the elite, the ones he wants to murder: 2013 Pusha T? Post-2009 Jay Electronica?

Any-time-in-the-history-of-mankind Wale? Man, I know some of y’all must think the same thing about me—but I swear we aren’t listening to the same shit. I guess Kendrick didn’t feel like naming, off the top of my head, Danny Brown, Roc Marciano, or even his patna Ab-Soul Kendrick’s list of greats-to-beat read to me like some crowd-sourced, old-rappercrew, PR-envisioned-ass “safe” list. I guess a “new nigga” like Earl Sweatshirt couldn’t make the cut—interesting since his new album, Doris, is about a million times better for hiphop’s renewal than any calculated hype over a fucking Big Sean song. This is a 19-year-old rapping his ass off—raw, weird, and not giving a fuck about the nonexistent, media-driven hierarchy of relevant rappers that a nation of cornballs sync their shallow lives to. This is not Hiphop™—the shit that they took from you, freeze-dried, then sold back to you at markup. This is some fucking rap music, the shit that is supposed to confuse and infuriate anybody 15 years older than those who made the shit.

HIPHOP YA DON'T STOP

BY LARRY MIZELL JR.

UP&COMING

Lose your ukulele-led musical comedy routine every night this week!

For the full music calendar, see page 39 or visit thestranger.com/music For ticket on-sale announcements, follow twitter.com/seashows

Wednesday 8/21

My Bloody Valentine, Lumerians (Showbox Sodo) Anticipation for the 17-years-inthe-making m b v was so great that what essentially sounds like a collection of outtakes was hailed as something close to the second coming of Loveless But here’s the thing: m b v is as close as we’re ever going to get to another Loveless, and as m b v’s nine tracks make clear, no one else in the world can make a racket like My Bloody Valentine. Live, the band is amazingly, assaultingly loud—even with earplugs, your head will be buzzing hard—and no one who appreciates an epic guitar roar will want to miss it. With San Francisco space-rockers Lumerians. DAVID SCHMADER

BLSPHM, ADC, Wind Swept Planes, Lucid Aisle, the Loathsome Couple

(Chop Suey) Since one of black metal’s most prominent driving forces is misanthropy, it only makes sense that some of the strongest players in that community are solo artists. Subcultural rainmakers like Xasthur, Leviathan, and Burzum all work in isolation; they’re so evil, they can’t even make nice with a bass player. Add BLSPHM to that list of loners. Under his vowel-less moniker, Demian Johnston lashes out at humanity with layers of blackened noise and apocalyptic drone. While BLSPHM’s battle plan resembles the approach of solo experimentalists like Merzbow, Masonna, and Prurient, Johnston’s sonic vocabulary owes more to the corpsepainted crowd. The resulting sound is so repugnant that Johnston never revisits the past, opting instead

to transform the project with every performance. Consequently, every BLSPHM show is mandatory for folks who revel in revilement. BRIAN COOK

Atlas Sound, Tacocat, Pony Time, Pollens

(Neumos) I could tell you more about the beautiful, weird, folky, and ambient music of the proliﬁc lead singer of Deerhunter, Bradford Cox. Yes, I should probably tell you more about his solo project, Atlas Sound. But you know, Cox as Atlas Sound hasn’t released any new LPs since his much-loved and critically “thumbs-up” 2011 record Parallax. Instead, it seems like he’s been busy playing on rooftops at openings for artists like NYC photographer Ryan McGinley (one of the youngest people, at 25, to ever have a solo show at the Whitney) and spending time making an experimental VHS-ﬁlmed documentary about his own life called Youth Museum No sky and/or creative medium can limit this dude.

KELLY O

Inner

Mounting

Flame:

The Music of Mahavishnu Orchestra with Being John McLaughlin, Jacques Entertainment System (Royal Room) Being John McLaughlin is the clever name for the local ad-hoc sextet tackling the phenomenally complex, combustible, and beautiful music of 1970s jazz-fusion deities Mahavishnu Orchestra. McLaughlin is, of course, MO’s superhumanly dexterous guitarist/leader and one of the catalysts in Miles Davis’s paradigm-shifting electric period. His group’s ﬁrst two albums—1971’s Inner Mounting Flame and 1973’s Birds of Fire—remain

overwhelming sources of quicksilver inventiveness and spiritual profundity (go to “The Noonward Race” for instant proof) on the level of those early Tony Williams Lifetime LPs, Miles’s Dark Magus, and Return to Forever’s Romantic Warrior. It’s a damn shame this show is happening the same night as My Bloody Valentine, though. DAVE SEGAL

Thursday 8/22

Scout Niblett (Barboza) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.

Dog Shredder, Great Falls, Heiress (Sunset) Old-man beard rock is what punk-rock

dudes do when they decide to grow up, quit their bands, and pick up an acoustic guitar to sing introspective songs about how they miss life on the road/ hate life on the road (see: most anyone who’s been on the Revival Tour). But Heiress aren’t shutting up just because they’re growing up—the group of Northwest hardcore veterans, fronted by John Pettibone of Undertow and Himsa, deliver punching beats, throat-shredding vocals, and charging guitar riffs. As they say themselves—they’re “older Seattle gentlemen making loud beard metal.” That makes it sound so polite! Great Falls are also fantastic—the Seattle trio started as a noise duo, and while their songs have taken on more traditional structures over time, their main goal still seems to be to blow your eardrums out of your head. MEGAN SELING

LEE RITENOUR, LARRY GOLDINGS and PETER ERSKINE

TUE, AUG 20-SUN, AUG 25

Distinguished crossover music masters

MARCIA BALL

TUE, AUG 27 - WED, AUG 28

“A sensational, saucy singer and superb pianist… where Texas stomp-rock and Louisiana blues-swamp meet.” -USA Today

KEIKO MATSUI

THU, AUG 29 - SUN, SEP 1

Leading innovator of contemporary fusion jazz celebrates 25th Anniversary Tour with new release Soul Quest

JON CLEARY

TUE, SEP 3 - WED, SEP 4

New Orleans based funk and soul singer, songwriter and pianist

LARRY CORYELL and THE ELEVENTH HOUSE REUNION BAND

THU, SEP 5 - SUN, SEP 8

Jazz guitar great with original members of the Eleventh House Randy Brecker (trumpet), Mike Mandel (keyboards), Danny Trifan (bass) and Alphonse Mouzon (drums)

NELLIE MCKAY

TUE, SEP 10 - WED, SEP 11

2033 6th Ave. | 206.441.9729

Sam Flax Satuday 8/24 at Cairo

Friday 8/23

Alan Bishop, r millis, Noisepoetnobody (Josephine) See Underage, page 44.

Lusine, Natasha Kmeto, Vox Mod (Mural Amphitheater) See Data Breaker, page 41.

Souls of Mischief, Shorte, Jewels Hunter

(Crocodile) It is my first time in San Francisco, and my lover’s best friend, who used to live in Seattle, now lives in the Mission District. My lover’s best friend is a rising DJ. Her bedroom is packed with old and new rap records. She plays me everything that is important to her. And the most important record of the moment is Souls of Mischief’s 93 ’Til Infinity Because Souls of Mischief are from East Oakland, bars and parties all across the Bay Area are playing their record from start to end. This is the birth of Left Coast hiphop. 93 ’Til Infinity shares its name with its most popular track. There is not a week that closes without its four minutes being filled by the sad melodies and pounding beats that make “93 ’Til Infinity” one of the highest aesthetic achievements in hiphop production. The music says the same thing as the words. It is always about the diamond infinity of moments that, in glittering rings, radiate from 1994 until the present, the now, the moment that’s being crystallized by the sorrowful soul of the looped electric piano, the lonely blow of the Pete Rockish horn, and the man-machine compression of the drum machine.

CHARLES MUDEDE

Pixies Cover Night: Members of Midday Veil, Ononos, Tea Cozies, Kithkin, Gibraltar, Charms, Noddy, Bad Motivators, and more

(Chop Suey) A recipe for all the fun: great bands covering great songs by other great bands. It’s the one time when you can clunk out a song you didn’t write, to the best of your ability, and people will go WILD because AHHH I LOVE THIS PIXIES SONG! Even better if you can nail it or put your own spin on it, but let’s face it, no one loses at a good cover

night, and this lineup is solid. Each band will play at least two songs—the Bad Motivators tell me they will be including “The Sad Punk” in their set, the Tea Cozies will play “Caribou,” and I can’t wait to hear Ononos do “Into the White.” EMILY NOKES

See also The Homosexual Agenda, page 43.

Les Claypool, Reformed Whores (Neptune) Leslie Edward Claypool turns 50 this year and has been releasing records with Primus and an impressive array of other bands since 1988, but his signature funked-up slap-bass technique has never gone out of style. As expressive and inventive as it is technical and precise, it’s one of the most distinguishable sounds to emerge from rock’s recent history. Never a stranger to side projects, Claypool is performing on this nine-stop tour with guitarist Bryan Kehoe as “Les Claypool’s Duo de Twang”— likely focusing on the more bluegrassy, NorCal-

backwoods root elements of his sound and playing style. Opening duo Reformed Whores should ﬁt right in with their accordion-/ukulele-led musical comedy routine. MIKE RAMOS

Jail Weddings, Country Lips

(Comet) The LA-based rolling carnival called Jail Weddings is one of the most electrifying rock ’n’ roll bands working today. With a large (and shifting) cast of characters, multi-instrumentalists, and comely backup singers, the group brings a galeforce storm of soulful, bacchanalian heartbreak and fury into any bar they set foot in. Jail Weddings dress smartly and play hard with a gasping, gutterdandy glamour. Frontman Gabe Hart stalks the room with wolﬁshly hungry eyes and a yearning snarl. Being a member of Jail Weddings probably isn’t good for your health, but they’re a vivifying sight to behold. BRENDAN KILEY

Saturday 8/24

Linda’s Fest: Absolute Monarchs, Constant Lovers, Tilson XOXO, Katie Kate, Big Eyes, Iska Dhaaf (Linda’s) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.

Waxwing (Vera) See preview, page 31.

Pressure Suit, Jimi Jaxon, Tremel (Vermillion) See Data Breaker, page 41.

Sam Flax, Part Time, Mega Bog, Punishment (Cairo) See Underage, page 44.

Stones Throw Soul Tour: Dâm-Funk, the Stepkids, Myron & E (Crocodile) Stones Throw is best known for its releases by Madlib and J Dilla, but the roster of this venerable Los Angeles indie imprint doesn’t stop with underground hiphop, encompassing roughhewn post-punk, neo-soul, and outsider oddities like Gary Wilson, too. Consistent quality is mandatory for survival when you champion as many weirdoes as Stones Throw does, and this package tour delivers: Dâm-Funk’s outré electro conjures up the ghosts of Rammellzee and Zapp’s Roger Troutman, while newcomers Myron & E deploy ﬁnely tuned classic soul grooves. And the Stepkids, who drop their superlative sophomore set Troubadour next month, operate in a world all their own, infusing jazz, ’70s pop, psychedelia, and tight vocal harmonies into sinewy funk grooves—their kaleidoscopic support slots for the Horrors in 2011 damn near eclipsed the headliners. KURT B. REIGHLEY See also Data Breaker, page 41.

Black Sabbath, Andrew W.K.

(Gorge Amphitheatre) Black Sabbath’s new Rick Rubin–produced album, 13, is not bad, surprisingly, for a band that peaked in the ﬁrst half of the 1970s. Of course, these doom-metal pioneers have earned some slack-cutting by this point, and the fact that they’re even alive in 2013 is a blessed miracle. Hearing their iconic, powerfully downward-spiraling

rock in the beautiful outdoors may cause cognitive dissonance, but the prospect still causes tingles of anticipation. A perusal of recent set lists reveals an emphasis on Sabbath’s ﬁrst four albums, the group’s strongest phase (but no “Planet Caravan” or “Sweet Leaf”—boo!). Also: Nothing against drummer Tommy Clufetos, but this tour is marred by original member Bill Ward’s absence. DAVE SEGAL

Sunday 8/25

The Beach Boys (Snoqualmie Casino) I mean, there are the Beach Boys, and then there are the Beach Boys. Almost as if two separate bands, the Beach Boys can ﬁrst be categorized as a one-surf pony, whose blond ’n’ tan hits were as catchy as they were similar— the American/Californian high-school dream of cars and babes, delivered with high harmonies and beach-party hooks. Then came the deep end of the Beach Boys, the strange and gooey mid-’60s period when Brian Wilson uncorked his heartbreaking freakaleak with Pet Sounds—some of the best music anyone with ears could hope to hear. As far as the current Beach Boys appearing at the Snoqualmie Casino, this entry near the end of their Wikipedia page probably sums it up: “‘Kokomo’ and reliance on nostalgia.” EMILY NOKES

Plow United, Smokejumper (Vera) Here—this is my punk-rock card. Take it, because I surely don’t deserve it. I completely missed out on Plow United when they were around in the 1990s—when I listened to nothing but punk rock—so I thought the Delaware trio that just released a new record, Marching Band, was new on the scene. Oh, how wrong I was. Plow United existed through most of the ’90s, breaking up late in the decade, only to reunite a couple years ago at Riot Fest East. They have hooks reminiscent of the Loved Ones or the Menzingers, and they bring some punk-rock ﬁre on par with early Rancid or Good Riddance. How did I miss this?! Seeing as how they’re playing the Vera Project, and they broke up before some Vera attendees were even born, I’m guessing I won’t be the only one in the room who didn’t get to catch them the ﬁrst time. MEGAN SELING

Monday 8/26

Whirr, Nothing, Vibragun, Nostalgist (Vera) See Underage, page 44.

Pinback, Survival Knife

(Showbox at the Market) I only caught about 10 minutes of Survival Knife’s Capitol Hill Block Party performance, but that was enough to convince that they deserve rapt attention. The Olympia quartet—which features former Unwound members Justin Trosper and Brandt Sandeno—slashed and chiseled out sinewy, intricate rock formations that ﬂung an aging critic’s mind back to crucial American groups like Slint, Seam, and Slovenly. You literally don’t hear that sort of lineage every day. If you like any of those bands (or Unwound, for that matter), you will feel your heart swell magniﬁcently for the contortionist ruckus of Survival Knife. In 14 years of sporadic listening to melodic indie-rock introverts Pinback, I’ve never felt a strong emotion. Apologies to all. DAVE SEGAL

Special Explosion, Sun Valley Gun Club, the Hague, New Lungs (Comet) Sun Valley is a real place in Idaho, and there really is a gun club there. For $9 you can rent a Beretta and destroy some sporting clays. The band of the same name isn’t from Sun Valley; they’re from the Oakland area, and for just $1 more than a gun rental, you can buy their latest full-length, Into the Valley Sun, which has warm, guitar-driven parts that will pair very well with Special Explosion’s own ode to mid-’90s guitar rock. Both will take you back to a time when you would buy the latest issue of CMJ, when it was a tall, skinny magazine with a CD tucked inside, and then hide out in your bedroom reading every single word on every single page because the internet didn’t exist yet. MEGAN SELING

Tuesday 8/27

Stay in and work on your masterpiece.

BONGO AND CONGA PLAYERS

Q NIGHTCLUB All Bands on Deck: Pill Brigade

THE ROYAL ROOM Inner Mounting Flame: The Music of Mahavishnu Orchestra with Being John McLaughlin, Jacques Entertainment System

SHIP CANAL GRILL The Canteloupes Jazz Jam, 7:30 pm

SKYLARK CAFE & CLUB Open Mic: Guests

STUDIO SEVEN Verdant Mile, Midnight Atmosphere , Beneath the Spin Light, Ender Smith, Erica Dinius, 7 pm, $8/$10

SUNSET TAVERN Friendly Gomez, Lydia Ramsey, Locomotives, Arian Saleh, 8 pm, $6

DIVE The Molasses Theory, Rowe , Black Powder Caravan, 8 pm, $6

HIGHWAY 99 Dirty Rice, 8 pm, $7

JAZZ ALLEY Lee Ritenour with Larry Goldings and Peter Erskine THE KRAKEN BAR & LOUNGE Nato Coles & the Blue Diamond Band, Dead Bars, Benedict Awesome, Bad Future, $5

NECTAR Good Gravy, Water Tower, $5

NEUMOS Atlas Sound, Pony Time , Pollens, TacocaT

NEW ORLEANS Legacy Band, Clarence Acox OHANA Live Island Music

PINK DOOR Casey MacGill & the Blue 4 Trio, 8 pm

TRACTOR TAVERN Everest, Hand of the Hills, Aaron Lee Tasjan, $10

VICTORY LOUNGE Android Hero, Dead, Towers

VITO’S RESTAURANT & LOUNGE Ben Von Wildenhaus, free a WAMU THEATER My Bloody Valentine, Lumerians, 8:30 pm

BALTIC ROOM Crunk: DJ Henski, Marty Mar, Blue Eyed Soul, Bgeezy, guests

CONTOUR Rotation: Guests, 10 pm, $5

THE EAGLE VJDJ Andy J

ELECTRIC TEA GARDEN Passage: Jayms Nylon, Joey Webb, guests

HAVANA SoulShift: Peter Evans, Devlin Jenkins, Richard Everhard, $1

LAST SUPPER CLUB Vibe Wednesday: Jame$Ervin, DT, Contagious

LAVA LOUNGE Mod Fuck Explosion: DJ Deutscher Meister

MOE BAR The Hump: DJ Darwin, DJ Swervewon, guests, 10:30 pm, free NEIGHBOURS Undergrad: Guest DJs, 18+, $5/$8

PONY Body 2 Body: 10 pm

SEE SOUND LOUNGE Fade: DJ Chinkyeye, DJ Christyle, 10 pm

THURS

8/22

LIVE

2 BIT SALOON Scott Williams, the Awfully Sudden Death Of Martha G , the Buffalo Stagecoach, Signal

Flags

AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Ben Fleck, 6 pm

BARBOZA Scout Niblett, 8 pm, $10

BLUE MOON TAVERN Frog Flag, Dogstrum, Verdant Mile, $5

CAFE RACER Leroy Lee, James Kelly Pitts, Ryan Bedard, free CAN CAN Vince Mira

CHOP SUEY Tall Smoke, the Knast , Hard Roller, 8 pm, $7

COLUMBIA CITY THEATER

Jeff Grant, Simon Kornelis, Home Sweet Home, $6/$8

COMET KXP, Your Young Body, Lou Lou Hernandez, $8

CONOR BYRNE Katrina

Charles, Hannah Amdahl, Debbie Miller, $7

CROCODILE & Yet, Cloud Person , Kevin Long, 8 pm, $8

DISTRICT LOUNGE Cassia

DeMayo Quintet, 8 pm, free

a EL CORAZON Happy Leviathan, Foreclosure Notice, Alex Enger, Cameron Ferguson, 7:30 pm, $8/$10

a GUAYMAS CANTINA

Oleaje Flamenco, 8 pm, free

HIGH DIVE Halcion Halo

My Cartoon Heart, the National Parks, 8 pm

HIGHLINE Early Graves, Theories, Earth Control, Mercy Ties, Numb, the Vatican, $10

HIGHWAY 99 Monster Road, 8 pm, $7

JAZZ ALLEY Lee Ritenour with Larry Goldings and Peter Erskine

LUCID The Hang: Caffeine, 9:30 pm, free

NECTAR Windy Hill, Geoffrey Castle , North Country Bluegrass Band, 8 pm, $6

a NEPTUNE THEATER STG Presents Rain City Rock Camp For Girls Showcase, 8 pm, free

PINK DOOR Bric-a-Brac,

8 pm

THE ROYAL ROOM The Meter Maids, Michael Stegner plays Dr. John

SCARLET TREE How Now Brown Cow , 9:30 pm, free

SEAMONSTER LOUNGE

The Suffering Fuckheads 10 pm, free

SHIP CANAL GRILL Bernie

Jacobs Trio, 7:30 pm

SKYLARK CAFE & CLUB

Crosswave, 8 pm, $6

THE STEPPING STONE PUB

Open Mic: Guests

STUDIO SEVEN Rude Tuna, Skablins, the Waywards, 7 pm, $8/$10

SUNSET TAVERN Dog Shredder , Great Falls, Heiress, $8

TRACTOR TAVERN Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, the Rainieros , $15

VITO’S RESTAURANT & LOUNGE Casey MacGill,

SHOTGUN EMMA!

This photo was submitted by Shelby. Emma and her two friends are shotgunning cans of beer, on a m*therfucking boat (and I’m not sure if Emma realizes that she’s m*therfucking cheating?). This photo also brings up a question: Other than beer, what’s the weirdest thing YOU’VE shotgunned? Club soda? A can of Tab? A can of cream of mushroom soup? Tell us at thestranger.com/drunkoftheweek. KELLY O

With

THURSDAY

AUGUST

Double Album Release Show with & YET

CLOUD PERSON

Cloud Person, Kevin Long 21+

The Crocodile, ReignCity & Eckö Unltd. present SOULS OF MISCHIEF

Jewels Hunter, Shorte, DJ Zac Hendrix All Ages

The Crocodile & ReignCity Present: STONES THROW SOUL TOUR W/ DAM FUNK

The Stepkids, Myron & E 21+

ALYSE BLACK

Cami Lundeen

Holly Figueroa O’Reilly All Ages

MURDER BY DEATH

Larry & His Flask

The 4onthefloor All Ages

The Crocodile & Decibel Present POOLSIDE

Nordic Soul All Ages SATURDAY 7

The Crocodile, ReignCity & Decibel present: PREFUSE 73 Theoretics, IG88 21+

5:30 pm, Free

THE WHITE RABBIT

Marmalade, $6

BALLROOM DJ Rob, free

BALTIC ROOM Revolution:

DonnaTella Howe, Olivia LaGarce, guests

CAPITOL CLUB Citrus: DJ

Skiddle

THE EAGLE Nasty: DJ King of Pants, Nark

HAVANA Sophisticated

Mama: DJ Sad Bastard, DJ Nitty Gritty

LAST SUPPER CLUB Open House: Guests

LAVA LOUNGE Rock DJs: Guests

LO-FI London Loves: Guests

NEIGHBOURS Jet Set Thursdays: Guest DJs

NEIGHBOURS UNDERGROUND The Lowdown: DJ Lightray, $3 OHANA Chill: DJ MS

SEE SOUND LOUNGE

Damn Son: DJ Flave, Sativa Sound System, Jameson Just, Tony Goods, $5 after 10:30 pm

THERAPY LOUNGE DUH.: DJ Omar, guests

TRINITY Space Thursdays: Rise Over Run, DJ Christyle, Johnny Fever, DJ Nicon, Sean Majors, B Geezy, guests, free

FRI

8/23

LIVE AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Ben Fleck, 6 pm

BARBOZA Eef Barzelay (Clem Snide), guests, 7 pm, $15

a BLACK LODGE Waxwing, Nazca Lines

BLUE MOON TAVERN The Ironclads , Mitts, 9:30 pm, $6

CAFE RACER DJ El Hefe, Space Trash, the Drove, free CHOP SUEY Pixies Cover Night: Featuring members of Ononos, Midday Veil , Tea Cozies , Bad Motivators, Noddy X Suns, Charms guests, $5/$10

COLUMBIA CITY THEATER

Luke Winslow-King, James Apollo, Annie Ford Band, 8 pm, $10/$12

COMET Jail Weddings, Country Lips, $10

CONOR BYRNE Thornton Creek , Stubborn Lovers, Sara Petite, $7

CROCODILE Souls of Mischief, Shorte , Jewels Hunter, 8 pm, $16

DARRELL’S TAVERN The Jilly Rizzo, Honeybear, the Glass Notes , $7

EL CORAZON Men Without Hats, the Scarves, Color, Crooked Veils, 8 pm, $15/$18; Banner Pilot, Success!, Murmurs, Poke da Squid, guests, 8:30 pm, $10/$12 a EMPTY SEA STUDIOS Róisín O, Colleen Raney, Colm MacCárthaigh, 8 pm, $16/$20

HIGH DIVE Mealfrog , HARPS, 9:30 pm, $8/$10

HIGHLINE Continues, Virtual Descent, Particle Son, guests, $10

JAZZ ALLEY Lee Ritenour with Larry Goldings and Peter Erskine a JOSEPHINE Alan Bishop, r millis, Noisepoetnobody

THE KRAKEN BAR & LOUNGE Death in the Family, Lolita Black, Your Enemy, Worthless Eaters, Deadpressure, $5 LO-FI Grand Royale, L.A.C.O.S.A., guests

a MARYMOOR PARK

Willie Nelson & Family, 6 pm, $45-$65 a MURAL

FRIDAY 8/23

AMPHITHEATRE Lusine, Natasha Kmeto, Vox Mod, 5:30 pm, free NECTAR Publish the Quest, DJ Logic, DJ Darek Mazzone, 8 pm, $7 a NEPTUNE THEATER Les Claypool, Reformed Whores, $29.50/$34 a NEUMOS Lions Ambition , Jett, guests, 8 pm, $15/$25

PARAGON Levi Said, free

RAVIOLI STATION

TRAINWRECK Dizzy, guests

a THE ROYAL ROOM Piano Royale, 5:30 pm

SEAMONSTER Funky 2 Death, 10 pm, free

SHIP CANAL GRILL Stacey Israel, 8 pm

STUDIO SEVEN Wintersun, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Arsis, Starkill, 6:30 pm, $18/$20

SUNSET TAVERN Dustbowl Revival, BLVD Park , 10 pm, $10

TRACTOR TAVERN Rose Pawn Shop, the Gourds, $15

VICTORY LOUNGE Big Eyes, Nato Coles & the Blue Diamond Band, Steel Tigers of Death , Sir Coyler & his Asthmatic Band 8:30 pm, $6

VITO’S RESTAURANT & LOUNGE The New Triumph, Free THE WHITE RABBIT The New Futures, Cracker Factory , the Old Soles

DJ 95 SLIDE DJ Fever One

BALLROOM DJ Tamm of KISS fm

BALMAR Body Movin’ Fridays: DJ Ben Meadow, free

BALTIC ROOM Dirty Work: Rotating DJs including Sean Majors, BGeezy, Mikey Mars, Sir Kuts, guests

BARBOZA Just Got Paid: 100proof, $5 after 11:30 pm

BY DAVE SEGAL

GET SOME FREE OUTDOOR ELECTRO VIBES WITH LUSINE, NATASHA KMETO, AND VOX MOD

Decibel is hosting this free, lovely evening of über-classy electronic music for humans of all ages. Seattle’s Vox Mod (Scot Porter), along with his two adroit bongo and conga players, impressed at Capitol Hill Block Party, busting out dubby, spacey tracks that showed a facility for vivid techno and electro moves. Touchstones include Meat Beat Manifesto and Plaid, which are stones that deserve touching. Portland’s Natasha Kmeto is the rare electronicmusic maker who can also sing with emotional potency and nuance—or is she the rare skilled diva who can create interesting electronic music? Whatever the case, her new album, Crisis, is a sophisticated collection of torch songs to which you can dance and bonk. Lusine (Jeff McIlwain) is the Mr. Reliable of Seattle’s electronic scene. Over the last 14 years, he’s just kept reﬁning his understatedly beautiful, IDM-accented house music, culminating in this year’s The Waiting Room, his most accessible work to date. And get a load of the perfectly poised cover of Electronic’s “Get the Message.” Mural Amphitheater, 5:30 pm, free, all ages.

SATURDAY 8/24

SLICK STONES THROW(DOWN): DÂMFUNK, THE STEPKIDS, AND MYRON & E

The Stepkids follow in the hallowed tradition of young musicians playing smooth jazz-funk with soulful vocals. (Wait— hardly any young musicians have done this since Ford was in ofﬁce.) They record for hiphop/funk bastion Stones Throw, but one can imagine the Stepkids going back in time 40 years to cut sides for CTI Records. I’ll bet your fez that they can replicate the en-

CONTOUR Afterhours, 2 am

CUFF TGIF: C&W

Dancing:

DJ Harmonix, DJ Stacey, 7 pm, Guest DJs, 11 pm, $5

FUEL DJ Headache, guests

HAVANA Rotating DJs:

DV One, Soul One, Curtis, Nostalgia B, Sean Cee, $5

LAST SUPPER CLUB

Madness: Guests

LAVA LOUNGE DJ David James

NEIGHBOURS UNDERGROUND Caliente

Celebra: DJ Polo, Efren

OHANA Back to the Day: DJ Estylz

RE-BAR TRIBAL!: Rob Noble, Michael Manahan, Guest DJs, 10 pm, $10

SCARLET TREE Oh So Fresh Fridays: Deejay Tone, DJ

Buttnaked, guests

SEE SOUND LOUNGE Crush: Guest DJs, free

THERAPY LOUNGE Rapture: Guests, $3 after 11 pm

TRINITY Tyler, DJ Phase, DJ Nug, guests, $10

THE WOODS Deep/Funky/ Disco/House: Guest DJs

SAT 8/24

LIVE

2 BIT SALOON Cutlass Supreme, Acid Angels, Sun Thieves

AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Ben Fleck, 6 pm

BLUE MOON TAVERN

Angelo Delsenno, guests, 9:30 pm, $6

a CAIRO Sam Flax, the Memories, Mega Bog, Punishment, guests, 8 pm

CHATEAU STE. MICHELLE

Chris Isaak, 7 pm, $45/$69.50

COLUMBIA CITY THEATER

Honey Noble, Grand Hallway , Led to Sea, 8 pm,

tire Steely Dan catalog in the studio, too.

The exotic, strutting “Sweet Salvation” is the Stepkids jam. Myron & E sing warm, low-lit soul ballads and sweet, midtempo R&B day-brighteners that will appeal to fans of Daptone Records and Mayer Hawthorne. Analog-synth evangelist/vocoder wizard Dâm-Funk is the consensus master (re)builder of ’80s boogie, a super-slick, potently funky strain of dance music that is geared to wipe out sadness. Glide! Crocodile, 8 pm, $15, 21+.

PRESSURE SUIT

Jimi Jaxon’s 7 Deadly label returns to the fray with a new self-titled EP by Pressure Suit (aka Greg Campbell). It makes a deep impression with its diverse, crazyangled, hard-slugging beats and crystalline synth washes. The four tracks trigger paradoxical constructions like “rugged fantasia” and “sparkling ﬁlth.” There’s some inventive future-bass exploration happening here. I’m eager to see what Pressure Suit can do with this material live. With Jimi Jaxon and Tremel Vermillion, 9 pm, free, 21+.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH THE SUNSET PRESENTS ON AN ON HANDS (KILL ROCK STAR), MAIAH MANSER

$8 ADV / 9PM DOORS / 21+

Natasha Kmeto

THURSDAY AUGUST 22ND

No Sleep Seattle Presents THE KNAST HARD ROLLER (Members of Presidents of USA // TALL SMOKE

FRIDAY AUGUST 23RD

PIXIES

WEDNESDAY AUGUST 28TH

O’BROTHER

NATIVE // DAYLIGHT // DARTO

THURSDAY AUGUST 29TH

CALI GIRAFFES

Kim arnic of the astbac s SPACENEEDLES // SILLY GOOSE Blin 1 Cover Band

FRIDAY AUGUST 30TH

TUCK GOES TO HOLLYWOOD!

BENDELACREME // ALEXA MANILLA // JACKIE HELL // MAMA TITS, // ADE // ROBBIE TURNER // & MORE!

SATURDAY AUGUST 31ST

TALCUM

100% vintage vinyl 45s of the best dance music ever made!! And e o der the dance oor to ee you slipping and sliding all night!

$8/$10

COMET The Sea & the Stars, Argonaut, Wiscon, Sailor Mouth, $7

CONOR BYRNE Ghosts

I’ve Met , Shoeshine Blue, Whiting Tennis

CROCODILE Dam-Funk, the Stepkids, Myron & E, 8 pm, $15

DARRELL’S TAVERN The Gumm, Stag, the F-Holes, guests, 5 pm, $10

EL CORAZON The Blasters, the Chop Tops, Hard Money Saints , Dead Man, Dog Bite Harris, 9 pm, $15/$17

a GORGE

AMPHITHEATRE Black Sabbath, Andrew W.K. (DJ set), 7:30 pm, $45-$125

HIGH DIVE Mugatu, Blood Hot Beat, Born of Ghosts, Horace Pickett, 9:30 pm, $8

HIGHLINE The Chop Tops, Graceland 5, Triple Sixes, $9

HIGHWAY 99 Hot Wired Rhythm Band, 8 pm, $15

JAZZ ALLEY Lee Ritenour with Larry Goldings and Peter Erskine

LINDA’S TAVERN Linda’s Fest: Katie Kate, Big Eyes, Tilson XOXO, Iska Dhaaf, Absolute Monarchs, Constant Lovers, 5 pm, free

NECTAR Yogoman Burning Band , Mile 9, guests, 8 pm, $7/$10

NEUMOS Seattle’s Sixth Annual Collaboration of Art, Music, Dance, Entertainment, and Fashion: Guests, $15

PARAGON Solbird, free

QUEEN CITY GRILL Faith Beattie, Bayly, Totusek, Guity, free

a RAINIER VALLEY

CULTURAL CENTER Alana Belle, 7:30 pm, $12

a THE ROYAL ROOM The Bernie Worrell Orchestra, Piano Royale, 6 pm

SEAMONSTER LOUNGE

Elsa Nilssen, Role One, 7 pm, free

SHIP CANAL GRILL Eugenie Jones, 8:30 pm

SKYLARK CAFE & CLUB Sirsy, Full Life Crisis, 8 pm, $7

SUNSET TAVERN Drag the

River, 10 pm, $10

TIM’S TAVERN Western Homes, Paul Diamond Blow, Jay Johnson, free

TRACTOR TAVERN Red Elvises, 9:30 pm, $15

a VERA PROJECT Waxwing, Nazca Lines , 7:30 pm, $13

VITO’S RESTAURANT & LOUNGE Ruby Bishop, 6 pm; The Casey MacGill Trio, 9:30 pm, Free

THE WHITE RABBIT Pacific Nomadic , the Koozies, God Hates Fads, Radioshark

BALLROOM DJ Warren

BALTIC ROOM Good Saturdays: Guest DJs

BARBOZA Inferno: Guests, 10:30 pm, free before 11:30 pm/$5 after CAPITOL CLUB Get Physical: DJ Edis, DJ Paycheck, 10 pm, free CONTOUR Europa Night: Misha Grin, Gil CUFF Bliss: DJ Harmonix

ELECTRIC TEA GARDEN

Shameless

HAVANA Rotating DJs: DV One, Soul One, Curtis, Nostalgia B, Sean Cee, $5

THE KRAKEN BAR & LOUNGE Iron Maiden Day: Playing all 15 Iron Maiden albums, 4 pm, free

LAVA LOUNGE DJ Matt

LO-FI Trust: Kid Hops, Justice & Treasure, guests, $5/$10

MOE BAR Panther Down: DJ N8, Anthony Diamond, free

NEIGHBOURS Powermix: DJ Randy Schlager

NEIGHBOURS UNDERGROUND Club

Vogue: DJ Chance, DJ Eternal Darkness

OHANA Funk House: DJ Bean One

PONY Stiffed: DJ Pavone

RE-BAR Cherry: Amateur Youth , Mathematix, 10 pm, $5/$7 after 11 pm

SEE SOUND LOUNGE Guest

DJs

TRINITY ((SUB)): Guy, VSOP, Jason Lemaitre, guests, $15/free before

FRIDAY 8/23

PIXIES NIGHT WITH NODDY AND ONONOS

10 pm

VERMILLION Pressure Suit, Jimi Jaxon, Tremel THE WOODS Hiphop/R&B/ Funk/Soul/Disco: Guest DJs

SUN 8/25

LIVE 2 BIT SALOON Les Bescasses, BitPart, Margy Pepper

AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Ben Fleck, 6 pm

BLUE MOON TAVERN Sunday Evening Whiskey Club, Caleb and Walter, 8 pm, free CAFE RACER The Racer Sessions

CHATEAU STE. MICHELLE 1964 (Beatles Tribute), 7 pm, $20

CHOP SUEY New Lungs the Female Fiends, Cambrian Explosion, Psychic Rites, 8 pm, $6/$8 COMET Black Nite Crash Dead Teeth, Yonder, $7

CONOR BYRNE Open Mic: Guests, 8 pm

a CROCODILE Alyse Black , Cami Lundeen, Holly Figueroa, 8 pm, $10/$12

a EL CORAZON Mr. Feelgood & the Firm Believers, Fringe Shift, Pawnbroker, guests, 8 pm, $8/$10

HIGH DIVE Galapagos, Half Rushmore, Liz Rognes, 8 pm, $6

JAI THAI BROADWAY Rock Bottom Soundsystem, free JAZZ ALLEY Lee Ritenour with Larry Goldings and Peter Erskine

KELL’S Liam Gallagher THE KRAKEN BAR & LOUNGE You May Die in the Desert, I Hear Sirens, guests, $5

LITTLE RED HEN Open Mic Acoustic Jam with Bodacious Billy: Guests, 4 pm

NECTAR Deadly Duo, Mac Life, guests, 8 pm, $5

a NEUMOS Dylan Jakobsen, Tumbledown, Stephen Jerzak, Josh Withenshaw, guests,

BY ADRIAN RYAN

Okay, ﬁrst we have to understand that tonight is all about Pixies covers, so don’t get all bent out of shape expecting, oh, the Black Eyed Peas or some sad shit like that. PIXIES! Got it? The next important thing to know is that Noddy—fresh from a blessedly temporary retirement—will be appearing. And OH! I know how much you love them, for I love them, too, only 10 times more, so back off. (Grrr.) It is also crucial to be aware that the world’s favorite Yoko Ono–inspired performance freak circus Ononos will be performing as well. And while, yes, there are plenty of other talented bands appearing tonight, SO WHAT?! NODDY! ONONOS! PIXIES!! Swoon. Chop Suey, 9 pm, $5 adv/$10 DOS, 21+.

SATURDAY 8/24

$13

PIES & PINTS Sunday Night

Folk Review: Guests, free

THE ROYAL ROOM New

House Orchestra

SHIP CANAL GRILL Jay

Thomas, Sun, noon

SNOQUALMIE CASINO

The Beach Boys, 7 pm

a STUDIO SEVEN Lily

Guilder, Jenny’s Last Stand, Jacob Wikan, 7 pm, $8/$10

SULLY’S LOUNGE Christian Smith Quartet, 7 pm, free SUNSET TAVERN Terrible

Buttons, Valley Fair, Matt Arthuer and the Bratlanders, 8 pm, $6

a TRIPLE DOOR Ottmar

Liebert, Luna Negra, 7 pm

TULA’S Jim Cutler Jazz Orchestra, 8 pm, $8

a VERA PROJECT Plow United, Smokejumper

VITO’S RESTAURANT & LOUNGE Ruby Bishop, 6 pm; The Ron Weinstein Trio, 9:30 pm

BALTIC ROOM Mass: Guest DJs

CAPITOL CLUB Island Style:

DJ Bookem, DJ Fentar

CONTOUR Broken Grooves:

DJ Venus, Rob Cravens, guests, free

THE EAGLE T-Bar/T-Dance:

Up Above, Fistfight, free

a FULL TILT ICE CREAM

Vinyl Appreciation Night: Guest DJs, 7 pm

LAVA LOUNGE No Come Down: Jimi Crash

MOE BAR Chocolate

Sundays: Sosa, MarsONE, Phosho, free

NEIGHBOURS Noche Latina:

Guest DJs

PONY TeaDance: DJ El Toro, Freddy King of Pants, 4 pm

Q NIGHTCLUB Revival: Riz Rollins, Chris Tower, 3 pm, free

RE-BAR Flammable: DJ Wesley Holmes, 9 pm

SEE SOUND LOUNGE Salsa:

DJ Nick

THE STEPPING STONE PUB

Vinyl Night: You bring your records, they play them

bit but that deserves our adulation is the hardworking one-wo-man extravaganza known as Lily Armani. If you are unfamiliar with Lily’s esthétique, she looks just like Reba McEntire (she has what the kids call “Reba resting face”). However!

HASHTAG WITH LILY ARMANI Seattle’s drag scene! We focus on it a lot—this fucking vibrant and spangly world, populated by brilliant ladydudes in pretty dresses. Of course, some ladydudes seem to get more attention than others, because reasons. (Blah blah blah, JINKX MONSOON.) But one name that certainly seems to be neglected a

She can transform at will into binders full of women. (She even won a Joan Rivers look-alike contest!) Recently, Lily dazzled us for months as hostess of the OFFICIAL RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 5 watching party at Lobby Bar, not to be confused with those unofﬁcial ones at Julia’s that actually featured Season 5’s winner. (Blah blah, JINKX, blah blah.) But it is her weekly “pop-culture roundup” that concerns us here, which happens tonight at Lobby Bar—it’s funny and fun, and Lily is as quick with a quip as a proper drag queen should be. Come prepared to laugh, cringe, and be dazzled. Lobby Bar, 9 pm, free, 21+.

KELLY O Ononos

FRIDAY AUGUST 23 | 8:00 PM

LITTLE COMETS, PLUS GUESTS

$11 ($10 W. CLUB CARD) ADV.

SATURDAY AUGUST 24 | 7:30 PM

WAXWING REUNION SHOW

$13 ($12 W. CLUB CARD) ADV.

SUNDAY AUGUST 25 | 7:30 PM

PLOW UNITED, SMOKEJUMPER

$11 ($10 W. CLUB CARD)

MONDAY AUGUST 26 | 7:30 PM

WHIRR, NOTHING

$8 ADVANCE $10 DOORS

WEDNESDAY SEPT 4 | 7:30 PM

TITUS ANDRONICUS AND AND AND $11 ($10 W. CLUB CARD)

SATURDAY SEPT 7 | 7:30 PM

KIMYA DAWSON PAUL BARIBEAU YOUR HEART BREAKS

$11 ($10 W. CLUB CARD)

SATURDAY SEPT 14 | 7:30 PM

PARACHUTE

MATT HIRES, PARADISE FEARS

$13 ($12 W/ CLUB CARD) ADV

WEDNESDAY 8/21

TAKE WARNING PRESENTS

WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/TAKEWARNINGPRESENTS TWITTER @TAKEWARNINGSEA

MON AUG 26TH @ EL CORAZON LOUNGE RIVERBOAT GAMBLERS

BLACKLIST ROYALS, THE HOLLOWPOINTS ALL AGES (BAR W/ ID) - 8:00 PM TICKETS @ TICKETFLY.COM, ELCORAZONSEATTLE.COM & EL CORAZON BOX OFFICE

MON AUG 26TH @ VERA PROJECT WHIRR

(MEMBERS OF DEAFHEAVEN) NOTHING, VIBRAGUN, NOSTALGIST ALL AGES - 7:30 PM

TICKETS @ TICKETFLY.COM, THEVERAPROJECT.ORG

SAT SEPT 7 @ THE SUNSET CRUSHED OUT WEST COAST IMPROVEMENT COMPANY, W/ GUESTS 21+ ONLY - 9:00 PM, TICKETS @ STRANGERTICKETS.COM SAT SEPT 14TH @ THE VERA PROJECT

MATT HIRES, PARADISE FEARS ALL AGES - 7:30 PM TICKETS @ TICKETFLY.COM, THEVERAPROJECT.ORG

U+C:

SEAS TO SKYLINES YOYA, SYMMETRY/SYMMETRY $6

TRUCKASAURUS

AIPORT, CHRIS DAVIS (BRAIN FRUIT) , BATH HOUSE DJS: RETINA BURN (BDAY SET), EXPLORATEUR, VEINS $7

JAIL WEDDINGS COUNTRY LIPS, PRISM TATS $10 4PM MATINEE THE OLD SOLES GUESTS $5

WISCON

THE SEA & THE STAR, GUESTS $5 HANGOVER FLEA MARKET FREE -2-6PM

MON

8/26

LIVE

2 BIT SALOON Laid in Stone,

Ashes of Existence, Drone Strike, $7

AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Jerry Frank

COASTAL KITCHEN Pork Chop Trio, 9:30 pm, free COMET Special Explosion, Sun Valley Gun Club, the Hague, New Lungs , $6

a EL CORAZON Riverboat Gamblers, Blacklist Royals, the Hollowpoints, guests, 8:30 pm, $10/$12

KELL’S Liam Gallagher

MAC’S TRIANGLE PUB Jazz and Blues Night: Guests, free MOLLY MAGUIRES Open Mic: Hosted by Tom Rooney, free

a NEUMOS IAMSU, Louis V, Rassan Heist, Fano, Jay Morrison, Tre Ross, 8 pm, $15

NEW ORLEANS The New Orleans Quintet, 6:30 pm

THE ROYAL ROOM Frankly Mondays: Guests

SEAMONSTER Monday Night

Open Mic: 10 pm

a SHOWBOX AT THE MARKET Pinback, Survival Knife, 8 pm, $18.50/$22

SUNSET TAVERN In Cahoots , Can You Imagine, Keith Cook, 8 pm, $6

TRACTOR TAVERN the Tallboys , 7:30 pm, $5

a TRIPLE DOOR

Musicquarium: Free Funk Union, free, Ottmar Liebert, Luna Negra, 7:30 pm

a VERA PROJECT Whirr, Nothing, Vibragun, Nostalgist

THE WHITE RABBIT

Michael Shrieve’s Spellbinder, $6

BALTIC ROOM Jam Jam: Zion’s Gate Sound, $5

BARBOZA Minted: Icon Mondays: Sean Majors, guests, free, DJ Swervewon, 100proof, Sean Cee, Blueyedsoul, free

CAPITOL CLUB The Jet Set: DJ Swervewon, 100 Proof

HAVANA Manic Mondays: DJ Jay Battle, free

THE HIDEOUT Introcut, guests, free

LAVA LOUNGE Psych/Blues: Bobby Malvestuto

LO-FI Jam Jam: Zion’s Gate, Sound Selecta, Element, Mista Chatman , $5

THE MIX Bring Your Own Vinyl Night: Guests, 6 pm MOE BAR Minted Mondays: DJ Swervewon, 100proof, Sean Cee, Blueyedsoul, free NEIGHBOURS

UNDERGROUND SIN: DJ Keanu, 18+, free OHANA DJ Hideki

PONY Dirty Deeds: Fruit: DJ Toast, DJ Logic Vortex, Guest DJs Q NIGHTCLUB Reflect, 8 pm, free TUE 8/27

LIVE

AQUA BY EL GAUCHO Ben Fleck, 6 pm

BARBOZA Help Yourself Records Launch Party: Chastity Belt, Dude York, Ubu Roi, 8 pm, $6

CONOR BYRNE Ol’ Time

Social: the Tallboys , 9 pm a EL CORAZON Betrayal, King Conquer, Aegaeon, Seeker, To Each His Own, Idols, 7:30 pm, $10/$12

ELECTRIC TEA GARDEN Monktail Creative Music Concern, DJ Shonuph, free

HIGH DIVE Liz Wood, La Mer, Rachel McGoye, 8 pm, $6 JAZZ ALLEY Marcia Ball, 7:30 pm, $22.50

KELL’S Liam Gallagher THE KRAKEN BAR & LOUNGE Ol’ Doris, Death By Steamship , Foxhole Norman, $5 MAC’S TRIANGLE PUB Open Mic: free

THE MIX Jazz Night: Don Mock, Steve Kim, Jacques Willis, 8 pm

OUTWEST Wine and Jazz Night: Tutu Jazz Quartet, free OWL N’ THISTLE Jazz Improv Night: Guests THE ROYAL ROOM Blues

Where have they been hiding this amazing plant that grows tomatoes and potatoes at the same time? If you want to get to the bottom of this, you’ll have to track down poster designer Nori Lockhart of Cambrian Explosion. AARON HUFFMAN

New Lungs

w/Psychic Rites, Cambrian Explosion, Female Fiends, Postmadonna Sun Aug 25, Chop Suey

$26.50/$30 TIM’S TAVERN Open Mic: Linda Lee, 8 pm a TRIPLE DOOR Ottmar Liebert, Luna Negra, 7:30 pm DJ 95 SLIDE Chicken & Waffles: Supreme La Rock, DJ Rev, free BALTIC ROOM Drum & Bass Tuesdays: Guests

THE EAGLE Pitstop: DJ Nark

HAVANA Word Is Bond: Hoot and Howl, $3 after 11 pm

LAVA LOUNGE Metal: Doctor Jonze

FRIENDLY GOMEZ

LYDIA RAMSEY, CALEB BUE

$6 • 8PM

THURSDAY 8/22

TOUGH CUTS MONTHLY PRESENTS: DOG SHREDDER GREAT FALLS, HEIRESS $8 • 9PM

FRIDAY 8/23

DUSTBOWL REVIVAL THE SUMMER JANUARIES, GOLDEN TREE STORY

$10 • 10PM

SATURDAY 8/24

DRAG THE RIVER THE BITTER ROOTS, DEAD MAN

$10 • 10PM

SUNDAY 8/25

BUTTONS

MONDAY 8/26 KEITH COOK

CROCODILES,J-KNEE JANUARY $6 • 8PM

BLACK NITE CRASH DEAD TEETH, YONDER $7 SPECIAL EXPLOSION

SUN VALLEY GUN CLUB, THE HAGUE, NEW LUNGS LITTLE HEARTS HEARTS ARE THUGS, SWORDS FOR ARROWS $5 MTNS

ELEPHANT RIDER (RENO), HAUNTED HORSES, BIG TRUGHK $7 NIGHTRAIN BEACH DICK, NEEDLES PIZZA (PDX), HALF BREED $7

to book a show e-mail cometbooking @gmail.com

COMPANY BAR Rock and Roll Chess Night: DJ Plantkiller, 8 pm, free

CONOR BYRNE Get the Spins: Guest DJs, free

To-Do: Septimus SEAMONSTER McTuff Trio, 10 pm, free a SHOWBOX SODO Three Days Grace, OtherWise,

FRIDAY 8/23

BLUE MOON TAVERN Blue Moon Vinyl Revival Tuesdays: DJ Country Mike, A.D.M., guests, 8 pm, free

BY BRITTNIE FULLER

WORLD-MUSIC LAUREATE ALAN BISHOP

MERCURY Die: Black Maru, Major Tom, $5 MOE BAR Cool.: DJ Cory Alfano, DJ Cody Votolato, free NEIGHBOURS UNDERGROUND Vicious Dolls: DJ Rachael, 9 pm, $5 OHANA DJ Marc Sense

WILDROSE Taco Tuesday: Guest DJs

funk. The folks at Cairo conduct curatorial magic yet again with this solid bill, also with San Francisco new-wave dreamers Part Time, Punishment’s soothing synth freak-outs, and Mega Bog’s haunted pop. Cairo, 8 pm.

MONDAY 8/26

BLISS OUT TO WHIRR’S NU GAZE

More hardcore experimental-music persons might know Alan Bishop as a member of outer-space-based avant-garde ensemble Sun City Girls, or as cofounder of Seattle label Sublime Frequencies, which has exposed some of the most distinctive musical oddities this side of the Fourth World. With inspirations ranging from psychedelic rock, to free jazz, to found sound, Bishop’s set will rivet with extrasensory sonic emissions. Tonight marks the release of Radio Moderna, his new tape (via local cassette label Alterity 101) composed of real-time improvisations for radio. With r millis and Noisepoetnobody Josephine, 8 pm.

SATURDAY 8/24

SAM FLAX’S RETROFIED SPACE POP

On “Fire Doesn’t Burn Itself,” the opening track from Age Waves (Burger Records), sharp art-pop dude Sam Flax wrangles in the weird. With groovecentric and well-executed retro moves, Flax invokes a sort of ’80s electro-pop meets easy-morning glam/soft garagerock vibe. His skewed pop should reel in more adventurous music fans, ones perhaps excited by the prospect of Paul McCartney’s Ram reincarnated as interstellar

If you missed My Bloody Valentine, be sure to head over to the Vera Project tonight to satiate your ache for ’gaze in a more sonically blessed setting. Oakland-based doomgazers Whirr are indebted to the distorted majesty of ’90s shoegaze, with former doom-metal guitarist Nick Bassett adding a touch of gloom to the band’s catatonic pop swirl. As heavy as it is pretty, Whirr’s euphoric doom is transﬁxed in nearly atonal coos and ringing guitars, all unwinding with slow-motion urgency. With soft female vocals buried deep in the fuzz, Whirr usher in a dream of sweeping sighscrapers intersecting with the beyond. Their latest, Around (Graveface Records), is their spaciest yet, often threatening to overﬂow into limitless post-rock grandiospheres. On tour with delightful chainsaw-gazers Nothing, and with even more forlorn wonder from Vibragun and Nostalgist, it should make for a night of never-ending sighs. Vera Project, 7:30 pm, $8 adv/$10 DOS.

FILM

Film Review Revue

Heroic Drunks, Mouthy Actors, Melancholy Saints

The World’s End dir. Edgar Wright SIFF Cinema Uptown

Nostalgia rots your insides, holding you back and preventing you from accomplishing anything new. This is a shitty, hard, unsentimental truth, one usually taught by too many heartbreaks or too many awkward reunions.

Gary King (Simon Pegg) still hasn’t learned it. Still rocking the battered Dr. Martens and Sisters of Mercy T-shirt he’s had since he was a teenager, Gary is a charming, witty, not-sohigh-functioning alcoholic. Having somehow made it to his late 30s or early 40s, he spends most of his time thinking about how much better things used to be. The focal point of his nostalgia is a single teenage night, in which he and four of his dumb buddies attempted “The Golden Mile”—a pub crawl consisting of 12 pubs in his hometown of Newton Haven, culminating at a pub named the World’s End. They didn’t quite make it to the World’s End, but Gary has still built up their Golden Mile as the greatest night ever—and built up himself, too, recasting himself as the group’s heroic leader. And so it is that his long-lost,

infinitely more successful friends—Andy (Nick Frost), Steven (Paddy Considine), Oliver (Martin Freeman), and Peter (Eddie Marsan)—all find themselves accosted by an insistent, eager, affectionate, and desperate Gary. Despite all of them knowing that revisiting the Golden Mile is probably a terrible idea, they find that—just as when they were kids—they can’t say no to Gary.

They’re a few pints in, and Gary is the only one having a good time, when the killer robots attack.

The World’s End is the latest from Pegg, Frost, and director Edgar Wright, the trio that made 2004’s Shaun of the Dead and 2007’s Hot Fuzz. Like those ﬁlms—which, with The World’s End, make a loose series that’s been called the Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy—it’s a fantastic genre movie that ends up accomplishing far more than most genre movies do. On the surface, the apocalyptic, increasingly drunken The World’s End is a funnier, smarter Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Dig a bit more, and it’s an affecting movie about how you can’t go home again, even if your crappy hometown isn’t literally besieged by mindless automatons.

It’s all very good—Pegg and Frost are

excellent, as is just about everybody else, and Wright keeps things fast and punchy and clever, even as The World’s End says more, and says it more deeply, than Shaun or Fuzz But I’ve neglected to mention the thing that is, by far, most important: The World’s End is phenomenally, relentlessly funny. It’s an odd thing to say, given how pitiable he is, but Gary is one of the funniest characters Pegg has ever played, and his now not-so-dumb buddies, (mostly) grown up and (mostly) playing along, are pretty amazing, too. Some intensely unlikable and lonely person, I’m sure, could try to keep a straight face throughout The World’s End or find something to criticize, but the only thing I can whine about is that this film is the final part in a series of excellent comedies. Watching the closing credits of The World’s End, one can’t help but feel like the Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy has somehow come to an end far too soon. Or maybe I’m just being nostalgic. ERIK HENRIKSEN

In a World…

The well of adjectives that would most accurately describe In a World… quirky, offbeat, charming—has been poisoned since Zach Braff tossed Natalie Portman into it with an artisanal brick tied to her ankle. But actress Lake Bell’s directorial debut is a throwback to a kinder, less-annoying era, when “quirkiness” didn’t immediately translate to crocheted bicycle-seat-warmers and repurposed mason jars.

In a World… digs down into the subculture of voice artists—the men (it’s mostly men) who provide voice-overs for commercials and movie trailers. There’s a power vacuum after the death of an industry heavy hitter, leaving Sam (Fred Melamed) and his chosen successor, Gustav (Ken Marino), to take on the biggest jobs. But Sam’s daughter Carol (Bell) is a vocal coach who has her eye on bigger things, and when she lands a succession of high-profile voice-over gigs, she suddenly finds herself a contender to do the trailer for The Amazonian Games, a four-film “quadrilogy” set in a world… where Amazon warriors battle prehistoric cavemen, a Hunger Games joke that could be funnier.

But the supporting cast is excellent, including Bell’s Childrens Hospital costars Marino and Rob Corddry, as well as Tig Notaro and Demetri Martin—and Bell is a sturdy, likable protagonist. The reason this ﬁlm works is because In a World… evidences a genuine interest in the day-to-day work of a voice-over artist. The thing is the focus, rather than the character who is interested in the thing—it’s the difference between superﬁcial quirk and acknowledging that the world we live in is a weird and interesting place. ALISON HALLETT

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints dir. David Lowery Guild 45th

All art aspires to the condition of music, said the 19th-century English essayist Walter Pater. Though there’s truth in this famous statement, some works of art strive to be like music much more than others. For example, the music is very low in the films of British socialists like Mike Leigh and Ken Loach. But it is certainly very high in American indie movies like Upstream Color and Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (David Lowery edited the former and wrote and directed the latter). The title of the former sounds like the name of an album by a British pop band, and the title of the latter like that of an album by an alt-country band. Indeed, Saints has a story that could easily form the lyrics of a tune: One sunny day in the 1970s, a young pregnant woman, Ruth Guthrie (Rooney Mara), and her man, Bob Muldoon (Casey Affleck), find themselves stuck in an old house on a hill that’s surrounded by police officers. Bob is wanted by the law for committing a robbery. Ruth is determined to stick by Bob’s side to the bitter end. She shoots out the window and hits an officer, Patrick Wheeler (Ben Foster). Bob, however, finally decides to surrender, go to prison, and do everything he can to get back to his woman and their baby.

In a World... digs deep into the subculture of voice artists.

The ﬁlm takes on too much: In addition to the professional maneuvering of Carol and her dad, there’s the state of her sister’s marriage, her dad’s May/December relationship, and Carol’s own romantic travails. All of these story lines would’ve beneﬁted from more exploration, as would the perfunctory girlpower ending about women taking control of their own voices.

Time passes. The sleepy town becomes sleepier. Ruth’s baby becomes a 6-year-old girl. Ruth also forms a close bond with the man she shot, Patrick (though he thinks it was her man who ﬁred the bullet that almost killed him). One night, Bob escapes from prison and makes his way across many great states toward the only thing that has been on his mind all of this time: Ruth. He is going to get her, and their baby, and his loot from the robbery (which he buried next to a tree). The three are going to live happily ever after. But, of course, things are not so simple. Ruth has changed some. Patrick has entered her heart. And she wants nothing to do with the only thing Bob can offer: a life of crime. How will all this end? It’s a sad song, and a solid movie. CHARLES MUDEDE

dir. Lake Bell Sundance Cinemas

THE WORLD'S END Simon Pegg and friends get drunk, ﬁght robots.

FILM SHORTS

More reviews and movie times: thestranger.com/ﬁlm

LIMITED RUN

CENTRO HISTORICO

A program of four short films from directors Aki Kaurismäki, Pedro Costa, Victor Erice, and Manoel de Oliveira. Northwest Film Forum, Mon-Tues 7, 9 pm.

COMPUTER CHESS

According to the Boston Globe, Computer Chess—set in the mid-’80s and concerning a small society of geeks at a computer chess tournament—was shot with “a consumergrade video camera from 1969.” As a consequence, the film looks like the ‘60s, the wardrobe and art direction look like the ‘80s, and the actors act like the geeks of today, the apps age. (I could be wrong about this, and maybe it’s just that, unlike video cameras or clothes, the geek mode is eternal, does not evolve, exists outside of history.) All in all, mumblecore master Andrew Bujalski’s fourth feature film is an excellent comedy that never goes dull or tired, contains lots of little and delightful bits of cultural history, and has no mumbling. (CHARLES MUDEDE) Grand Illusion, Fri 7, 9 pm, Sat-Sun 5, 7, 9 pm, Mon 7 pm, Tues 7, 9 pm.

THE DUDE FEST: THE BIG LEBOWSKI

Fremont’s summer cinema series once again wraps up with a “The Dude”–themed, 21+ event celebrating (and featuring a screening of) the Coen Brothers’ insanely brilliant neo-noir classic. Count on many attendees in bathrobes bearing bowling balls. Fremont Outdoor Cinema, Sat Aug 24 at 7:30 pm.

THE FUGITIVE

Harrison Ford is wrongly accused of killing Harrison Ford’s wife. Harrison Ford suspects that a man with one arm killed Harrison Ford’s wife. Harrison Ford is the fugitive. Grand Illusion, Thurs Aug 22 at 6:30 pm.

FURIOUS

Scarecrow Video does what God made Scarecrow Video to do, screening this film which it describes as “a martial arts movie that’s so rare, it’s not even in our collection!”

Director Tim Everitt in attendance on Saturday. Scarecrow Video, Fri-Sat at 8 pm.

GALAXY QUEST

The goofy Star Trek spoof hits the big inflatable screen at Three Dollar Bill Cinema’s outdoor movie series. Cal Anderson Park, Fri Aug 23 at dusk.

GAMERA 3: THE AWAKENING OF IRIS

Tokyo suffers its perennial kaiju ravaging in this Japanese mega-monster movie from ‘99. In the event of rain, the presentation will move to the nearby Seattle Asian Art Museum Auditorium. Free screening! Volunteer Park Amphitheater, Fri Aug 23 at 9:15 pm.

THE GITS

True to the era it documents, this film about female-fronted Seattle punk rock band the Gits begins with a list of

things it is not: a story about “a band from Seattle,” a story about “a punk rock band,” a story about “a band with a girl singer,” etc. But it’s true—despite some conventional shapes, The Gits is not just a band bio with testimonials and live footage. Obviously: It’s a chronicle of the inspired life and brutal murder of singer Mia Zapata. Intriguingly: It’s also a chronicle of how Seattle has changed and how it hasn’t. The Zapata story is handled with the reverence you’d expect (rightfully so; her friends and family are still visibly enraged and palpably lost when they discuss her) but also with delicacy. They don’t martyr her, which allows a history of a mid-level local band and its community to rise above nostalgia, and to quietly consider the physical and spiritual transformations Seattle has undergone since Zapata was killed. (SEAN NELSON) Northwest Film Forum, Sun Aug 25 at 7 pm.

HAUSU

Hausu is the legendary psychedelic ghost story from Japan about a group of schoolgirls who venture into the wrong house. Blasts of crazy animation (both stop-motion and ink) rub up against live-action plot twists that will bend your brain. Unless you’ve seen Hausu, you’ve never seen anything like Hausu. (DAVID SCHMADER) Harvard Exit, Sat Aug 24 at midnight.

THE HAWKS AND THE SPARROWS

Palme d’Or-nominated Italian comedy from ‘66 stars Totò, a Morricone soundtrack, and a talking crow. Northwest Film Forum, Fri-Sun 7, 9 pm.

HECKLEVISION: CONGO

Send your derisive text messages hurtling at the screen while this widely panned monkey movie sputters in the background. Thurs Aug 22 at 8 pm.

LES MISÉRABLES

Distilled from Victor Hugo’s sprawling 1,400-page novel into a syrupy liqueur of human sorrow, Les Miz is a calculated sobfest from start to finish. This is a musical in which nearly every member of the expansive cast dies, often violently, and usually at the point of abject despair. You are going to cry, goddamnit. (GOLDY) Mural Amphitheater, Sat Aug 24 at 9 pm.

PASOLINI’S LAST WORDS

An examination of the last years of of the provocative Italian filmmaker who was brutally murdered in 1975. Northwest Film Forum, Fri Aug 23 at 7 pm.

REAR WINDOW

Hitchcock’s Rear Window stands as perhaps the greatest film whose subject is film itself: sitting in the dark, watching stories play out at a cinematic remove. Central Cinema, Fri-Tues at 7 pm.

RENT

Life is an apartment and everything else is rent. Central Cinema, Sat-Tues at 9:45 pm.

SHOWING 8/23 - 8/29

(2:10)*, 7:00, 9:30* • Mon: (2:10)*, 7:00, 9:30* • Tue: (2:10)*, 7:00^, 9:30* • Wed & Thu: (2:10)*, 7:00, 9:30*

BLUE JASMINE (PG-13)

Fri: (3:30), (4:55)*, 7:15*, 9:45 • Sat & Sun: (12:00)* (3:30), (4:55)*, 7:15*, 9:45 • Mon: (3:30), (4:55)*, 7:15*, 9:45 • Tue: (3:30), (4:55)*, 7:15*, 9:45 • Wed & Thu: (3:30), (4:55)*, 7:15*, 9:45

FRUITVALE STATION (R) Fri - Thu: (4:45)*, 9:15*

20 FEET FROM STARDOM (PG-13) Fri: (2:30)*, 7:10* • Sat: (12:15)*, 2:30*, 7:10* • Sun: (12:15)*, (2:30)*, 7:10* • Mon -

SEATTLE BIKE-IN

Ride your bike to the park (fun!) and see (the great) Pee Wee’s Big Adventure with an almost entirely new DJ’d soundtrack (including music, sound effects, and dialogue). Preceded by a bike fair. Cal Anderson Park, Sat Aug 24 at 9 pm.

SECRET MOVIE NIGHT VI

A unnamed movie, co-presented by the MacGuffin and the Grapes of Rad. Clues indicate that it was released in 1989 and stars a baseball. (Helpful hint: Both Eight Men Out and Bull Durham came out in 1988.) Grand Illusion, Mon Aug 26 at 9 pm.

SINGLES

Cameron Crowe’s early ‘90s camp classic about a bunch of twentysomethings—including Matt Dillon and Bridget Fonda—who get romantical in grungy Seattle. It’s total bullshit, but it’s our bullshit. Magnuson Park, Thurs Aug 22 at dusk.

SLAPSTICK SAVANTS

Harold Lloyd, Charlie Chaplin, the Three Stooges, Buster Keaton, and the Marx Brothers all appear in this weeklong festival of silent legends. SIFF Cinema Uptown, Fri-Tues. For complete schedule and showtimes, see siff.net.

THAT’S SEXPLOITATION

An over-two-hour compilation of vintage celluloid sex: burlesque, “hygiene videos,” nudies, and a bunch of other weird stuff. Curated by Something Weird Video, which is known for weirdness. SIFF Cinema Uptown, Fri Aug 23 at 10 pm.

WAXIE MOON IN FALLEN JEWEL

Wes Hurley’s goofy, campy, and local-star-packed comedy continues its once-a-month screening at Central Cinema. Central Cinema, Fri Aug 23 at 9:30 pm.

WHEN COMEDY WENT TO SCHOOL

This documentary looks at the Catskills from the 1930s to 1960s as the birthplace and an important breeding ground for standup comedy. New York Jews went up to vacation in the resort area—it’s said they wanted relaxation, food, and entertainment, not strenuous sporting activities—and the performers morphed over the years from Yiddish theater to vaudeville to comedy, all incubated in a place filled with a Jewish sensibility. One comedian notes that it was a place for them to develop their craft: “Catskills comedians were audience-tested in a way no other comedians were.” The hotel circuit was a comedy boot camp. Some good analysis of Jewish humor—where it came from, its growth, and how it created the path for the development of modern comedy—is found here, and the film succeeds as a look at a particular time and culture, but the story is marred by some schmaltzy nostalgia. It clocks in at just over an hour, and with its old clips and interviews (Jerry Lewis, Sid Caesar, Jerry Stiller, Mort Sahl), it sometimes feels more like a PBS program than a movie. (GILLIAN ANDERSON) Varsity, Fri-Sun 2:50, 5, 7, 9 pm, Mon-Tues 5, 7, 9 pm.

NO GHOST SHARK FOR YOU, RUSSIA!

Longtime readers of I Love Television™ know I have little patience for goddamn commie Rooskies. HOWEVER! Over the past few years—in the interest of improved international relations—I’ve tried to temper my Russian xenophobia by focusing on their good points. Such as? Well, frankly, there aren’t many! But here are three: (1) Russian drunks! Nobody gets stinko like the Russians—they make Lindsay Lohan look like a Mormon in a ginger ale factory. (2) Russian YouTube videos! They may be godless commies, but they make HEEE-LARIOUS YouTube videos! Search “Funny Russian Videos” and spend hours lafﬁng your guts out over insane drivers, drunk cops, and trumpet-playing bears. And (3) Russian brides! They’re superior to American brides, because they run away after two years. (Ba-dum-DUM! Chssss! Thank yew, thank yew! Unlike Russian brides, I’ll be here all week.)

Unfortunately, my Cold War is once again white-hot thanks to Russia’s idiotic laws against “homosexual propaganda”—UMM, hello?? Practically everything I do is “homosexual propaganda”! Remember the time I devoted an entire column to the color, size, and height of Tom “Smallville” Welling’s nipples? I rest my case. And now Russia is threatening to prosecute American gays who participate in the upcoming Winter Olympics? OHHHHHH HELLLLLLL NAWWWWWWWW! Look, you sex-hating pinko commies! NOBODY messes with American gays—except me, and preferably in a threesome. (“Homosexual propaganda” noted.)

And in case you didn’t notice? Russia is ﬁrmly BACK on my (and America’s) xenophobic shit list! Here’s how I think we, as a nation, should respond to Russia’s gay-hating shenanigans:

• Boycott Vodka! While I cry a tear for every drop of alcohol spilled on the streets, Russian vodka is now strictly NYET! I’d sooner drink rubbing alcohol before allowing another bottle of Stoli to touch my homosexualpropaganda-spewing lips, and from now on, I’m substituting any (and all) of the following: beer, whiskey, rye, tequila, brandy, rum, gin, and rubbing alcohol. (I never said I hated rubbing alcohol.)

• Boycott Caviar! You don’t eat caviar, anyway? Me either! Let’s think of something else!

• Promote “Russian Heterosexual Propaganda”! America (gays and all) should participate in Russia’s Winter Olympics—by humiliating the shit out of them. Instead of “homosexual propaganda,” let’s promote the “heterosexual” variety. For example, did you know Russian men have incredibly small penises? Yep, it’s true. Sadly, they’re TERRIBLE in bed. And the women are only slightly more sexually active than a frozen ﬁlet of cod. And did you hear that President Vladimir Putin’s tiny junk is covered in sores? Ugh! GROSS. Who would EVER want to sleep with these people??

• Ban American Exports of Ghost Sharks!

As you know, America leads the world in hilarious shark TV movies. After the smashing success of Syfy’s Sharknado, we’re insanely excited for this week’s follow-up, Ghost Shark (Syfy, Thurs Aug 22, 9 pm). While the plot is clearly not important, it’s about an ass-eating shark that’s killed and then comes back from the dead to eat more ass. THE END. But here’s the point! Russia, you don’t DESERVE Ghost Shark or any other supernatural or weather-related sharks! Recant your idiotic, homophobic antigay laws, or you can make your own terrible shark movies! (Ha! With what? A trumpet-playing bear?)

NOW PLAYING

BLACKFISH

Orca-lovers beware: This ain’t Free Willy. Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s searing indictment of Sea World’s cruel exploitation of “killer whales” and the inhumane practice of confining these magnificent creatures is heartbreaking and enraging. From Puget Sound’s barbaric history of capturing calves in the 1970s to the abuses that most likely drove bull orca Tilikum to kill two different trainers, this gripping documentary stirs up many of the same emotions the Oscarwinning The Cove did in 2009. While theme-park corporate flunkies blame accidents and deaths on “trainer error,” Cowperthwaite’s doc asks: Just how much suffering is our need for entertainment worth?

(JEFF MEYERS)

BLUE JASMINE

The title character, played by Cate Blanchett, is (or was) a wealthy Manhattanite. When her ex-husband Hal (Alec Baldwin) turns out to be a Madoff-like crook, she loses everything, so she relocates to San Francisco to stay with her working-class sister Ginger (Sally Hawkins). Everyone is lying to themselves—about who they are, what they want, and what they feel they deserve. Blanchett is amazing as this supremely deluded neurotic. It’s a showy performance, and it’s refreshing to see Allen’s jangly, sometimes unpleasant protagonists channel that energy toward masking something potentially more sinister: a measure of complicity in their personal disasters. (MATT LYNCH)

THE HUNT

The latest from Thomas “The Celebration” Vinterberg tracks the fate of a good-natured kindergarten teacher who’s falsely accused of child sex abuse and suffers the consequences. It’s a stark and harrowing case study in collective insanity, filled with revelatory moments and amazing performances (especially from kids). (DAVID SCHMADER)

JOBS

Jobs, which follows the creation of Apple through Jobs’s eventual firing and return, feels like an extended infomercial for Apple products. By the time Apple design guru Jony Ive shows up to preach about Jobs’s obsessive desire to create beautiful objects that simply work, the movie has begun to sound like the credulous babbling that always happens onstage at the introduction of a new Apple product (with words like “revolutionary” used with much sincerity). Jobs is almost breathless parody by the time the credits roll.

(PAUL CONSTANT)

LEE DANIELS’ THE BUTLER

Lee Daniels’ The Butler is based on a real African

American man who worked at the White House for eight presidential terms, played by (genius) Forest Whitaker. The opening is a brutal series of crimes that happen to the future butler and his parents in a Southern cotton field, where they’re still functionally enslaved decades after abolition. Act two lionizes the civil rights era, the era of black folks rising up to help themselves. The butler’s son is a Freedom Rider/ Black Panther played by (genius) David Oyelowo. The Butler is a pretty good Hollywood movie. Oprah Winfrey is great. It’s probably worth seeing, even though as the credits are about to roll, an epigraph dedicates the movie to those who “fought” for equal rights. Not fight: fought. (JEN GRAVES)

MAN OF STEEL

Henry Cavill gives great Superman: He smiles a lot, and he moves not like he’s afraid of stubbing a toe, but like he’s worried about accidentally breaking something. Amy Adams is a wonderful Lois Lane, a reporter guided by a sense of justice. Michael Shannon is a good, creepy General Zod. But Man of Steel takes too long to retell a story we all know. We open on Krypton, followed by Kansas’s amber waves of grain. We briefly meet the Daily Planet staff before Zod makes the movie a straight-on conflict. There’s none of the fun that should figure into a Superman movie, only good-guy-versus-bad-guy schematics that play out just about the way you figure they will. (PAUL CONSTANT)

PRINCE AVALANCHE

David Gordon Green’s latest is a minor-key character study that trades in low-key desperation and knowing chuckles and a welcome return to his sleepy-indie roots. Paul Rudd’s Alvin is as listless as he is contemplative. Emile Hirsch is the dim-witted brother of his long-term girlfriend. The two clash and, inevitably, bond while repainting yellow lines along fire-ravaged backwoods roads in West Texas. It’s a haunted, lonely landscape that yields quiet, reluctant epiphanies. It won’t change your life, but it will take you someplace special. (JEFF MEYERS)

THE SPECTACULAR NOW

Sutter Keely (Miles Teller) is a popular high-school burnout who medicates everything with an unending fountain of alcohol. Keely’s love interest, Aimee Finicky (Shailene Woodley), plays the devoted good girl with cringing perfection. As the movie progresses, Finicky takes on the quiet strength of a woman with a purpose: college. In contrast, Keely’s confidence begins to unravel as his “now” is engulfed by his hazy future. The teens look and act like real teenagers: smart kids with skin problems who drink too much in a sloppy, unglorified way. It is Now’s determination not to become another coming-of-age caricature that makes it so good. (CIENNA MADRID)

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FREE WILL ASTROLOGY

BY ROB BREZSNY

For the Week of Aug 21

ARIES (March 21–April 19): An Indian student named Sankalp Sinha has invented the Good Morning Sing N Shock. It’s an alarm clock that plays you a song and gives you a small electrical jolt when you hit the snooze button. The voltage applied is far less intense than, say, a Taser, and is designed to energize you rather than disable you. I encourage you to seek out wake-up calls like the kind this device administers, Aries: fairly gentle, yet sufficiently dramatic to get your attention. The alternative would be to wait around for blind fate to provide the wake-up calls. They might be a bit more strenuous.

TAURUS (April 20–May 20): If you google the statement “I can change overnight,” most of the results that come up are negative, like “It’s not something I can change overnight” or “I don’t think I can change overnight.” But there’s one Google link to “I can change overnight.” It’s a declaration made by Taurus painter Willem de Kooning. He was referring to how unattached he was to defining his work and how easy it was for him to mutate his artistic style. I wouldn’t normally advise you Tauruses to use “I can change overnight” as your battle cry. But for the foreseeable future, you do have the power to make some rather rapid and thorough transformations.

GEMINI (May 21–June 20): “The artist is by necessity a collector,” said graphic designer Paul Rand. “He accumulates things with the same ardor and curiosity with which a boy stuffs his pockets. He borrows from the sea and from the scrap heap; he takes snapshots, makes mental notes, and records impressions on tablecloths and newspapers. He has a taste for children’s wall scrawling as appreciative as that for prehistoric cave painting.” Whether or not you’re an artist, Gemini, this would be an excellent approach for you in the coming days. You’re in a phase when you can thrive by being a gatherer of everything that attracts and fascinates you. You don’t need to know yet why you’re assembling all these clues. That will be revealed in good time.

CANCER (June 21–July 22): Can you remember the last time you bumped up against a limitation caused by your lack of knowledge? What did it feel like? I expect that sometime soon you will have that experience again. You may shiver with worry as you contemplate the potential consequences of your continued ignorance. But you may also feel the thrill of hungry curi-

osity rising up in you. If all goes well, the fear and curiosity will motivate you to get further educated. You will set to work on a practical plan to make it happen.

LEO (July 23–Aug 22): “My story isn’t sweet and harmonious like invented stories,” wrote novelist Hermann Hesse. “It tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.” As interesting as Hesse’s declaration is, let’s not take it as gospel. Let’s instead envision the possibility that when people reduce the number of lies they tell themselves, their lives may become sweeter and more harmonious as a result. I propose that exact scenario for you right now, Leo. There might be a rough adjustment period as you cut back on your selfdeceptions, but eventually your folly and bewilderment will diminish as the sweet harmony grows.

VIRGO (Aug 23–Sept 22): Novelist James Joyce once articulated an extreme wish that other writers have probably felt but never actually said. “The demand that I make of my reader,” said Joyce, “is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works.” Was he being mischievous? Maybe. But he never apologized or issued a retraction. Your assignment, Virgo, is to conjure up your own version of that wild desire: a clear statement of exactly what you really, really want in all of its extravagant glory. I think it’ll be healthy for you to identify this pure and naked longing. (P.S. I’m not implying that you should immediately try to get it fulfilled, though. For now, the important thing is knowing what it is.)

LIBRA (Sept 23–Oct 22): Now and then a British Libra named Lloyd Scott dresses up in funny costumes while competing in long-distance races. He does it to raise money for charity. In the 2011 London Marathon, he wore a nine-foot snail outfit for the duration of the course. It took him 27 days to finish. I suggest you draw inspiration from his heroic effort. From a cosmic perspective, it would make sense for you to take your time as you engage in amusing activities that benefit your fellow humans.

SCORPIO (Oct 23–Nov 21): What will you do now that you have acquired more clout and visibility? Will you mostly just pump up your self-love and bask in the increased attention? There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. But if those are the only ways you cash in on your added power, the power won’t last. I suggest you take advantage of your enhanced influence by engaging in radical acts of magnanimity. Perform good deeds and spread big ideas. The more blessings you bestow on your fellow humans, the more enduring your new perks will be.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22–Dec 21): You’ve been pretty wild and uncontained lately,

and that’s okay. I’ve loved seeing how much permission you’ve given yourself to ramble free, experiment with the improbable, and risk being a fool. I suspect that history will judge a majority of your recent explorations as tonic. But now, Sagittarius, the tenor of the time is shifting. To continue being in alignment with your highest good, I believe you will have to rein in your wanderlust and start attending to the care and cultivation of your power spot. Can you find a way to enjoy taking on more responsibility?

CAPRICORN (Dec 22–Jan 19): “The person who can’t visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot,” said the founder of surrealism, writer André Breton. I wouldn’t go so far as to call such an imagination-deprived soul an “idiot,” but I do agree with the gist of his declaration. One of the essential facets of intelligence is the ability to conjure up vivid and creative images in one’s mind. When daily life has grown a bit staid or stuck or overly serious, this skill becomes even more crucial. Now is one of those times for you, Capricorn. If you have any trouble visualizing a horse galloping on a tomato, take measures to boost the fertility of your imagination.

AQUARIUS (Jan 20–Feb 18): “I want to be with those who know the secret things, or else alone,” wrote the eccentric ecstatic poet Rainer Maria Rilke. That wouldn’t be a good rule for you Aquarians to live by all the time. To thrive, you need a variety of cohorts and allies, including those who know and care little about secret things. But I suspect that for the next few weeks, an affinity for those who know secret things might suit you well. More than that, they may be exactly the accomplices who will help you attend to your number one assignment: exploratory holy work in the depths.

PISCES (Feb 19–March 20): To launch your horoscope, I’ll steal a line from a Thomas Pynchon novel: A revelation trembles just beyond the threshold of your understanding. To continue your oracle, I’ll borrow a message I heard in my dream last night: A breakthrough shivers just beyond the edge of your courage. Next, I’ll use words I think I heard while eavesdropping on a conversation at Whole Foods: If you want to cook up the ultimate love feast, you’re still

MARTIAN

FRIDAY AT ED’S KORT HAUS

met you last Friday at Ed’s Kort Haus. You had me smitten the moment I saw you. Regretting didn’t stay longer. When: Friday, August 9, 2013. Where: Ed’s Kort Haus. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919915

CUTE GLASSES

DAKINIKAMMA!

You: came in jimmy johns, complimented you on your glasses. Couldn’t chat as was working. Same place any time? Let’s set up a time to meet for lunch or side of jimmy johns. When: Tuesday, August 13, 2013. Where: Jimmy johns U district. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919914

STARBUCKS ON JACKSON

READER

TEADER JOE’S CAPITOL HILL

TODAY Red bob, scarf, black unitard, boots. Thanked you for not running me over. You laughed, and let me live. Tried to stall, but you slipped past. Watched you, elegant and determined, stride away down 18th. So want to meet you. When: Wednesday, August 14, 2013. Where: Trader Joes on Capitol Hill.

and

kept making me laugh out loud. Want to compare notes? Over beers? When: Saturday, August 17, 2013. Where: 74th St Alehouse. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919924

ENDER’S GAME ON THE 10

You: nerdy Indian guy explaining the plot of each Ender Wiggin book in great detail to your friend on the bus Me: hot tattooed chick with purple hair Thought you were too cute. wanna meet up and talk sci fi? When: Friday, August 16, 2013. Where: Bus 10 Downtown to Capitol Hill. You: Man. Me: Woman. #919923

STEELY DAN, 9TH ROW, BANGS

You were sitting at the end of row 9 in the middle section. You have dark hair and bangs, sunglasses. was row 10 in the middle. You danced during the concert. Would love to meet you. When: Thursday, August 15, 2013. Where: Steely Dan Concert Marymoor Park. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919922

BELLEVUE PARK FRIDAY

AUGUST 15

You, the hot dark haired dude crossing street to Bellevue Park with friend. Me, tall guy with white shades and blue shirt. Passed me later on a park bench. Wish we could have chatted... When: Friday, August 16, 2013. Where: Bellevue Park. You: Man. Me: Man. #919921

KEN’S MARKET ON PHINNEY

You sat eating and reading a newspaper. As you left you saw me looking and gave me a smile. I was working and couldn’t follow you out. Get together for drinks? When: Thursday, August 15, 2013. Where: Ken’s Market Phinney/ Greenwood. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919920

SPECIALTIES PASTRY CHEF

BUYING SMOOTHIE

I’ve never done this before, but I figured, why not. You were still in your chefs pants, I was in the corner awkwardly staring and extremely smitten. Wanna grab a smoothie or drink sometime? Lets get this thing fuckin rollin. When: Friday, August 16, 2013. Where: cap hill coffee shop. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919919

CONNECTION ON CAPITOL

HILL saw you at Grimm’s. You were having a rough night, running into an asshole of an ex. We were about to go to another spot when you met some friends and took off. Hope your night got better! When: Friday, August 16, 2013. Where: Grimm’s. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919918

HEART SUNGLASSES 44 WEDNESDAY MORNING on the 44 headed west wednesday about 9am You had heart rimmed sunglasses and black/white

You: with family members. khaki capris, black shirt, glasses. Me: sitting by the Window watching Netflix on my phone with a hat over-ear headphones. I wanted to talk but you were with family. coffee? Same time/ place next week?? When: Thursday, August 15, 2013. Where: Starbucks on 23rd s. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919913

I SAW U

Mr. Handsome 6’6” Backpacker Newbie

You: Hilarious, handsome customer. Me: Tall blonde blushing outdoor sales girl. I tried to keep it together for the half hour that I was helping

You gave me a ﬁst pound. I wish I had given you my number.

When: Wednesday, August 14, 2013. Where: REI.

You: Man. Me: Woman. #919917

TWO WOMEN AT INN KEEPER

A rainy night but you were sitting outside, sharing stories. Wish I had stopped to offer a drink. Trust there will be more such nights, an alternative to these tales of woe. When: Wednesday, August 14, 2013. Where: The Inn Keeper. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919912

UNIVERSITY BRIDGE BIKER caught up to you at the red light. You let me go ahead of you. I told you I

TATTOOED JOGGER, 8TH AVE, BALLARD

You were running up 8th Ave as I drove by. Returning 30min later, I saw you again. I went a block, then turned around to introduce myself... but you were gone. Contact me- I’ll send pics and invite you for coffee! When: Tuesday, August 13, 2013. Where: 8th Ave and 45th, Ballard. You: Woman. Me: Man. #919910

#919890

SAVAGE LOVE

Kinky Kid BY DAN SAVAGE

I recently discovered that my 14-year-old stepson, who lives with us full-time, has been stealing, wearing, soiling, and hiding his toddler sister’s pull-ups. I’ve found them after he hides them in his closet. After discussions with him, I’m certain that wearing them is a pleasure thing for him. (He says “curiosity,” but this has been going on so long that he knows what it feels like.) He has even stolen some of the neighbor girl’s Baby Alive doll diapers to wear and soil. We’ve told him he has to stop stealing diapers—from our neighbor, because stealing is wrong, and from us, because these things are flippin’ expensive. We are pretty grossed out by it, despite being pretty open-minded people. I may be more grossed out by the prospect of piles of dirty diapers hidden somewhere in the house, but the thought of purposely peeing your pants isn’t pleasant, either. I believe we have a fetish growing here, and I don’t think a parent needs to be involved in it, but he’s stinking up the joint.

nient, less awkward way for you to address the fetishism issue. Stealing from the neighbors is the main reason, you can tell your stepson, that you’ve decided to bring him to see a therapist. A good psychologist can then explore the reasons for his kleptomania and lend a sympathetic and nonparental ear for him to talk openly about any taboo feelings.”

Parent Is Seriously Stumped Is your stepson a diaper perv? Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t.

“This may only be a case of ‘curiosity,’ just as his stepson says,” said Jesse Bering, PhD, a research psychologist and science writer who regularly contributes to Slate, Scientific American, and other publications. “Young teenagers can’t express their overwhelming urges easily. We provide no ‘socially appropriate’ sexual outlets for 14-year-olds, masturbation aside— which, let’s face it, can get monotonous. So his stepson may simply be exploring the available materials that he, ahem , comes across.”

Bering, who just finished his second book about human sexuality (Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us), remembers doing some pretty freaky stuff himself at age 14. “I recall some exciting moments involving peeing in the bathroom sink,” said Bering. “It’s hard for me to get into the head of that lascivious kid I once was. The idea of pissing in the sink with an erection while looking at myself buck naked in the mirror isn’t particularly arousing to me these days.” Since it’s share time in group: I remember stealing panty hose when I was 14—I’ve never told anyone about this—and I enjoyed some exciting moments looking in a mirror while wearing them. Just as Bering didn’t grow up to be a pee-in-the-sink fetishist, I didn’t grow up to be a panty-hose-in-the-mirror fetishist. So while it’s probable that your stepson is a budding diaper fetishist, it’s also possible that he’s just horny and experimenting. That said… “Even if it turns out that his stepson is really into diapers, it’s a pretty harmless fetish,” said Bering. “As with any paraphilia, it would be next to impossible to ‘cure,’ even at his young age. It’s just something he’ll need to learn how to handle responsibly. You may be grossed out, and, yes, a festering pile of discarded diapers stuffed under his bed would be a sanitary problem, but never underestimate the power of a frank conversation grounded in truly unconditional love.”

Start that frank conversation by reassuring your stepson that you love him. Tell him that most humans are a little bit perverted—that’s what Bering’s new book is about—but our kinks are private, and you’re only talking to him about his thing for diapers because he hasn’t been very successful at keeping it private. Then cut him a deal: If he makes an effort to discreetly dispose of any diapers he soils, you won’t go looking for them and you’ll keep your mouth shut if you find one or two in the bottom of the trash bin out back.

“On the theft problem,” said Bering, “a 14-year-old diaper fetishist can’t just run to the store to buy erotic supplies out of his own paycheck. So let him earn enough money to buy a few pairs of pull-ups here and there by doing chores around the house. And while the stealing is definitely worrisome, it does provide a conve-

Bering’s new book, Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us, will be released October 8, but it can (and should!) be preordered now. Follow him on Twitter—@jessebering—to read his highly entertaining #DailyDeviant posts.

I’m a 19-year-old male college student. I lost two and a half fingers on my right hand in an accident when I was 13. I am otherwise good-looking and in shape—but what does that matter? A counselor once told me, “A true lady of class will love you for who you are.” I have never wanted to punch someone so hard. Bullshit. I don’t want to listen to politically correct “feel-good” crap. I’m disfigured, not stupid. Children fear me! And what sort of woman would look at me with desire when whole men can be found everywhere? Don’t tell me to go to counseling. I go to counseling. Do not give me the link to some useless “support” group’s website. What is there to do? How could I possibly approach a woman with confidence? Don’t Insult My Intelligence Here’s something you can do: Get the fuck over yourself.

I know that’s harsh, DIMI, but I’m thinking harsh is what you came to me for. If it isn’t— if what you wanted was more ladies-of-class bullshit with a side of warm and syrupy sympathy—then you might wanna skip the rest of my response.

Look, motherfucker, there are people out there with missing limbs, who were badly burned in fires, with disfiguring birth defects. One day volunteering in a burn ward or at Walter Reed might help you put your mangled hand in some sort of perspective. Because it could be worse. And burn victims and people with missing limbs and people with birth defects? Lots and lots of them are out there dating and getting laid and finding partners despite the cruel looks they sometimes get from thoughtless children.

Yes, some women will be turned off by your right hand, and that sucks. But some won’t care. And while there might be one or two women out there who’ll find you more attractive as a result of your accident—I’ve never received a letter from a woman with a fetish for missing fingers, but I’ll doubtless hear from at least one after your letter runs—I can tell you this for sure: No one is attracted to a person who is paralyzed by self-pity. Each and every one of us moves through life covered with scars, DIMI, some more visible than others. Life has a way of carving chunks out of all of us—literal chunks in some cases. All we can do is make the best of what we have or what we have left.

So get the fuck over yourself, get the fuck out of the house, and go meet women. If you’re worried that your right hand is the first thing a woman notices, get a prosthesis made or wear a glove. And while you may be tempted to blame your right hand for your lack of romantic success, DIMI, remember that very few people your age—people with 10 intact fingers—have met with much romantic success.

I’m sorry about your accident, DIMI, I really am. Good luck.

On this week’s Savage Lovecast: Dan chats with OKCupid cofounder Christian Rudder about strategies in online dating at savagelovecast.com.

mail@savagelove.net @fakedansavage on Twitter

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