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Issue 85 April 2010

For the trumpet has sounded, and the dead have risen

Bodies Revealed Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy


Seattle Next Door

The Sinful Photography of

News, Rants & Politics

Damned Fools & Stupid Rules

My mother likes to say that there are some in this world who were born without a full deck, those not quite right in the head; of course, she never had much of a stomach for jokers or pranksters. She just thinks some people are damned fools, such as those who dress in motley colors and entertain, those who rush blindly into love, and those who make unwise financial decisions. She may never confess it, but she more than likely thinks that I’m not right in the head either, as I’m certainly guilty of all three. And that’s probably true of most independent publishers. You have to be some sort of a fool, licensed or natural, to be in this gig. The difference in the two is that a licensed fool consciously performs an act for wealth, while the natural fool is usually just mad. Either way, my mother would argue that there’s something seriously wrong with both. But then again, what would life be like without fools to entertain and anger? The fool, though, is seldom bound by rules; whether those be of god, man, or industry really makes no difference. We’re known to be excessive in drink and love, obsessive with prank and humor, and rebellious to authority and rule. I’m certainly a fool when it comes to independent publishing, and I doubt there are few in this city who would argue otherwise. But even fools are not immune to the basic laws of life. Somewhere in this journey of foolish independent publishing I may answer to my mother’s all-mighty and fearful God, and maybe even to The Man and his totalitarian authority, but the publishing industry itself, with its ridiculous standards and rules, can suck the sweat from my not-so hairy balls. I will do things that Industry says you should never do, like skip printing for a few months, let readers wonder where we have gone, and then have our staff of contributors spread rumors that I have shut this paper down, knowing all the while that it is nothing more than an April Fool’s joke. Some, even in our staff, have questioned my reasoning if not sanity for such unorthodox behavior. Some have even questioned their commitment to this publication. The truth is that some of us take this brief journey from A-to-Z too seriously, way too seriously. In the end, it’s nothing more than a short stroll. Perhaps these are the thoughts of a natural fool, or better defined, a mad man. And to keep from mincing words, I really don’t care who thinks what about me or this publication of yours, meaning yours since The Sinner is a forum. I’m going to have fun on this journey, or not run it. And if you’re not having fun, maybe it’s time to think about jumping paths – that, or cutting your fucking throat one and speeding this slow death you’re on up a notch or two. What advice would you expect a fool to share? Let me once again speak of my mother’s thoughts. As a conservative republican, she certainly thinks something’s wrong in Me head. Discussing politics and separation of church and state with her is painful for both of us, usually ending with each of us shaking our heads and fists. I often think of her as I sit behind this desk while I look out the window at the American flag waving in the wind from our front porch, and of this government she believes I so despise. It’s not that I’m antigovernment like she believes, nor do I despise this grand institution, it simply disappoints me. And I don’t mean in the way that Tea Baggers believe it disappoints with a black president. I believe in just government, a representation of the people. I firmly believe in the government intervening in public life, like when it gave African American’s freedom, and then equal rights, and when it gave women the right to vote, and when it forbid businesses form hiring children, and allowed unions to exists, ending slave labor to create a blue-collar middle class. I liked the idea of our government creating public education, social security, welfare, unemployment protection, public libraries, interstates and bridges, and a strong military – and even national health care for all. These tasks take big government, but a just and fair government too. And it was the ghosts of government’s past that did these great things. But in 1913 Woodrow Wilson gave us a fucking that hasn’t ended yet, the federal income tax, which eventually led to the Federal Reserve, so titled to confuse Americans that it was actually a federal institution – which it is not. Before Wilson’s death, some eleven years later, he confessed perhaps his greatest sin publicly to the American people, his part in the slow death of this grand institution, our republic. He said, and I do quote, “We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled governments in the civilized world, no longer a government of free opinion, no longer a government by a vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men. Some of the biggest men in the United States, in the field of commerce and manufacture, are afraid of something. They know that there is a power somewhere so organized, so subtle, so watchful, so interlocked, so complete, so pervasive, that they had better not speak above their breath when they speak in the condemnation of it.... I have unwittingly ruined my government.” Know that prior to 1913 and the unconstitutional federal income tax, so decreed by our Supreme Court in several cases, that our government functioned entirely on corporate income tax and tariffs, not corporate tax breaks and free trade. I highly suggest renting Freedom To Fascism to hear this entire argument featuring many patriotic Americans who have been found not obligated to pay the federal income tax, like the story of Joseph Banister, a former IRS agent who could not find the law mandating a federal tax on labor in the IRS code, who eventually quit the IRS and joined the anti-tax movement. The film also includes former presidential candidate Ron Paul speaking on The Federal Trade Reserve and its part in the slavery of the American people, which presidents like Lincoln and Jefferson warned of if our government ever allowed privatized banking. But in the real America today, where the blue collar has turned brown with sweat from working two and three jobs to make ends meet, something George W. Bush said was “uniquely American” in his 2004 campaign, the chances of winning that case in any state court is a battle that none of us can afford. Nor do we have the time to fight the battle, something that the institution knows all too well. So you do what you’re told, and pay those fucking taxes; that, or run for the hills and hope to live off the land without being caught for trespassing and hunting with out a license – both offenses which will land your antiAmerican ass in jail. But as that flag waves so proudly outside my window, upside down, stating distress, I admit that The Sinner has never owed any taxes in seven-plus years. Of course, you have to make money for Uncle Sam to send his gang of rogue, ignorant agents to your door to shake you down with axes and guns in hand, and that’s something very rare in indy publishing – making money. That’s why it takes a damned fool of sorts to dive in these shark infested waters to begin with. But it’s better to swim with sharks then to slowly drown in knee-deep water... or so a fool would say. And once again, that’s a tale of fear and publishing in two cities...

Unjust Taxes & Razor Sharp Axes

2. Fear and Publishing 3. Sinful News

4. Weapons of Mass Distraction 6. Piper’s Pit 7. Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy 8. Hello - Who Are You? 9. Oppression Can Take Many Forms

Music, Film, Art & Entertainment 10. Tales of the Miscreant Monkey Crew 10. Blood of the Black Owl 11. Huggy Talk 12. Slats Pull Out Poster 13. The Sins 14. Notes from the Fishtank

15. Slats Unmasked

Model: Sarah Ellis

16. An Interview With Roxy 19. The Sinful Photography of Seattle Next Door

Religion, Sex & Other Sinner Shit 17. Bodies Revealed

21. The Surley Gourmand 20. Campfire Tales 22. Bitchin’ with Buddha 23. This I Shamelessly Tell You 23. Ask Dr. Dick

Writers, Ranters, Opinionists & Other All-Out Freaks: Matthew Robert Goad’X Mark Taylor-Canfield Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid The Surly Gourmand Paul Blow Buddha Lucifer Saab Lofton Guitar Doug Henry Nicolle John Cole Jeff Diggs Fish Jason Andrew Maija Kristen Ivy Dr. Dick Ken Poirier Matthew Gorman Bianca Malise

Model: Trista

Publisher: Chuck Foster Layout: Terri Daniels Managing Editor: Brook Hatch Marketing Consultant: Bek Harvey Schmitt Cover: Seattle Next Door Photography

The Sinner is a group of contributing writers. Their opinions, rants and ideas do not necessarily reflect the views of The Sinner itself. The Sinner encourages contributions from its readers but retains the right to edit material due to content or length of submission. For advertising or submission information, contact us at Submission deadline is the 25th of every month.

EXTRA Sinful News EXTRA The clock says it’s 5:37 am, mere ours before print, but the wife recently found this site and wanted to share something positive in Seattle government with our readers: Please read, visit, and get involved in your local A&E community. Seattle has been the background for many landmark films and the foreground of progressive musical movements. At the Office of Film + Music we’re committed to helping you become the next Seattle icon. Our office is devoted to promoting Seattle’s film and music industries. The Office of Film + Music is a streamlined resource for all of your film and music needs. We offer creative tax incentives and professional business development opportunities, making this vibrant city the perfect background for your next film or music production. Let Seattle be your stage for creating and discovering great film and music. Seattle is a sophisticated city with global influence and an identity all its own. Make it your setting, make it your city. SEATTLE FILM AND MUSIC, BECOME PART OF IT.

You Stinkin’ Animals! Wikipedia defines animals as a major group of mostly multicellular, eukaryotic organisms of the kingdom Animalia or Metazoa, who are also heterotrophs, meaning they must ingest other organisms for sustenance. In regards to the reproduction of animals, Wikipedia states that nearly all animals undergo some form of sexual reproduction. Well, South Carolina Lt. Governor Andre Bauer recently shared his definition of “Animals” with the people of America: Poor People. Speaking at a town hall meeting in South Carolina last January, Bauer said, “My grandmother was not a highly educated woman, but she told me as a small child to quit feeding stray animals. You know why? Because they breed. You’re facilitating the problem if you give an animal or a person ample food supply. They will reproduce, especially ones that don’t think too much further than that. And so what you’ve got to do is you’ve got to curtail that type of behavior. They don’t know any better.” Since most animals lack a decent edjumication, he’s saying that we ain’t got enough sense to know that if we can’t find work we shouldn’t breed at all. It seems like Bauer would be quite happy if all us animals were simply castrated, then put back in the fields to better serve our masters. But he didn’t stop there. Like many rich white folks from the south, Bauer is not only against feeding the strays, he wants the state to cut off all assistance to residents receiving benefits who fail (soon to be) mandatory drug tests, or those who even fail to attend PTA meetings. That’s right, if you have to stand on the corner all day and beg for change to bus you and the kids to the PTA meeting, then you better start making cardboard signs – that, or loose your family’s food stamps. See, Bauer feels that if you get something from the state, “then you owe something back”, because our government is “breeding a culture of dependency”. And if you think that’s truly disturbing, then read STOP THE DRUG WAR below. Bauer does admit that some of his “neighbors” receiving assistance may actually be in dire need, but points out that there’s a “big difference between being truly needy and truly lazy.” Yes, there is a big difference between being truly needy and truly lazy, as there is with being healthfully employed and on the street unemployed. Bauer’s comparison to welfare and feeding strays who know no better is hardly anything new. On his site he states that welfare takes many forms, saying, “We are sending the absolutely wrong signal to the next generation about what is needed to get ahead in life if we don’t threaten benefits for recipients who won’t even lift a finger to help themselves or their children. The flood of emails, calls, personal contacts, voice mails, and television website polls tell me most people agree with me. …” I’m sure that most of Bauer’s less needy neighbors do agree with him, at least those not worried about invasion of privacy nor hurdles to leap to prove that they’re an animal worthy of a treat, or maybe just two. I just hope Bauer knows that sometimes animals do attack, even their masters. And that they might come November.

Drug Testing: Missouri Senate Committee Passes Bill to Drug Test Welfare Recipients

A Missouri state Senate committee voted Tuesday to approve a bill that would require welfare recipients and applicants to pass a drug test in order to receive government aid. The bill, SB 607, passed the Senate Health, Mental Health, Seniors, and Families Committee on a 5-3 vote. The bill attempts to get around constitutional problems with other mandatory drug testing bills by limiting drug testing to those whom case workers have identified as creating “a reasonable suspicion” they are using drugs. Persons who are then drug tested and test positive would have an administrative hearing and after that hearing, could be declared ineligible for Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) benefits for three years. Dependent children of people thrown off the rolls would not lose their benefits; instead, they would be provided through a payee for the children. The bill also provides that the Department of Mental Health would refer people who test positive to drug treatment, although it doesn’t specify who would pay for it. Nor does the bill have any provision for returning someone to the rolls after successfully completing treatment. The vote came despite a fiscal impact analysis that found the measure would cost the state more than $2.5 million in 2011 and around $3.5 million in 2012 and 2013. While the state would save some money from paying out fewer benefits, those savings would be swamped by the costs of drug testing, hearings for people who appealed the loss of benefits, and the cost of drug treatment. Missouri is one of a handful of states where similar bills are moving this year. Similar bills have been filed or pre-filed in Florida, Kentucky, South Carolina, and West Virginia.

Flight 253 - Who Is The Sharp Dressed Man?


onspiracy theorists have recently latched onto some of the controversial statements made by attorney Kurt Haskell challenging the official version of what happened on Christmas Day in 2009 during Northwest Airlines flight 253. Haskell and his wife Lori live in Newport, Michigan. They were both witnesses to the attempted bombing of Northwest Airlines flight 253 on December 25th by a 23 year old Nigerian man - Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab. Mutallab claimed he was acting as an al Qaeda operative who had received a month’s training and 80 grams of explosive material from radical Islamic groups operating out of Yemen. Some conservative politicians, including Senator Joe Lieberman, immediately began calling for US military intervention in Yemen. Allegations of a cover-up have been launched from both sides of the political spectrum. Media pundits from the left and the right have entered into the fray, claiming that Haskell’s story proves a conspiracy was hatched that day as part of a larger secret plan to further limit people’s civil liberties and to provide justification for increasing the US government’s efforts to wage the “War on Terror”. Kurt Haskell and his wife Lori were returning from Africa by way of Amsterdam on flight 253. He explains their version of the events on her own blog at: http:// In his post, Haskell claims that Mutallab was escorted through the airport by a “sharp dressed man,” referring to the title of a song by the rock group ZZ Top. He says the man, who he guessed was of Indian descent, wore a very expensive suit and watch, so he concluded that the man accompanying Mutallab was wealthy. To cast even more doubt on the subject, media reports point out that Mutallab’s father, Alhaji Umaru Mutallab, is a very prominent banker in his country. In fact, he is the former chairman of the First Bank of Nigeria, has served as a government cabinet member, and reportedly has significant influence in the Nigerian armaments industry. The father reported his son to the US embassy in Abuja, Nigeria on November 19, 2009 – one month before the attempted bombing. Alhaji Umaru Mutallab warned State Department officials and the CIA that his son was a dangerous extremist. Yet Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab was never placed on the US “no-fly” list (officially referred to as the Terrorist Screening Database). Even more puzzling in light of this failure, is the report by the UK’s Daily Mail that Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab had been banned from Britain because he was considered a possible terrorist threat by security officials in that country. One mystery that seems to surround Haskell’s statements is that another man was also taken into custody after the incident. He calls him “the man in orange”. The FBI originally claimed they arrested only one suspect. The witness told Alex Jones that this second man was about 30 years old, and looked like he might also have been from India. Another witness on flight 253, Daniel Huisinga, told MSNBC that he also saw a second man detained when the plane landed in Detroit. When they were taken away from that part of the airport, some of the passengers were under the impression that a bomb had been found in the man’s luggage, creating a very dangerous situation. Mutallab has reportedly stated that there was another terrorist operative with him on the plane. According to Haskell, the FBI’s first response to his claim was that the “man in orange” did not


exist. Then they said he was arrested on immigration charges. Their third explanation was that the man was actually a passenger from a completely different flight. Haskell says that in their fourth attempt to address the mysterious “man in orange” the bureau claimed that he had been detained, questioned and released. The FBI now admits that a second person from the flight is still being detained, supposedly on immigration violations. In January 2010, CNN reported that the man is an engineer from Nigeria. The passengers of flight 253 thought that bomb sniffing dogs had identified something in this man’s baggage. He was interrogated for an hour before he was taken away in handcuffs. At that time, the passengers of flight 253 were being detained at the airport by police and FBI agents. After the arrest of the second man, they were told that they were being moved because it was too dangerous for them to stay in that area. Kurt Haskell concluded that a bomb had been found in the “orange man’s” luggage. Furthermore, to add to the confusion, Kurt Haskell says the man wearing orange clothes videotaped Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab during the flight, but for some unknown reason the FBI did not try to confiscate the video as evidence. A woman who was also on the flight has confirmed that someone was videotaping. On radio station WTMJ in Milwaukie Patricia Keepman stated that she and her daughter watched the man film the entire flight, including Mutallab’s failed attempt to detonate the explosives. She told the audience, “He sat up and videotaped the entire thing, very calmly.” Haskell informed federal agents at the airport that the man in the orange pants had videotaped the flight. They asked the passengers if anyone had videotape showing the attempted bombing, but the man in orange did not respond to their question, so the FBI agents let it go without checking his camera. Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab had traveled to Detroit from Nigeria via Amsterdam. The “sharp dressed man” apparently told airline employees at the Amsterdam airport that Mutallab was a refugee from Sudan. He asked to speak to their supervisor, saying he was sure they could work things out, that people from Sudan were often allowed to board planes without ID. Haskell watched the two men walk down the hall to the manager’s office. Soon afterwards, Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab walked onto the plane along with the other passengers. Kurt Haskell has complained that the passengers were left on the plane for 20 minutes after Mutallab’s arrest, not knowing if they were in danger from a bomb that might still be on the Airbus 330. Actually, despite the explosive material hidden in his underwear, Mutallab only managed to create a small fire in row 19 that was quickly extinguished after he was overpowered by the people on the flight. Haskell reports the Nigerian man didn’t seem to put up any kind of resistance once he was confronted. The 277 passengers were then brought out of the

plane and waited for an hour, sitting in an evacuated baggage claim area of the airport terminal with their carry-on bags. Finally, bomb-sniffing dogs arrived to check their baggage. Mutallab was transported to the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor where he was kept in isolation. It seems he was injured during the scuffle with fellow passengers and suffered second and third degree burns.

Reporters were told to stay out of the hospital and no information about his injuries was forthcoming from his doctors. The University of Michigan Health System issued an extremely secretive official statement on December 26, 2009: “Although the U-M Health System has received one patient from the incident that occurred on Christmas Day aboard a plane bound for Detroit Metro Airport, we request that members of the news media contact the FBI for information on this patient.” Today he is being held in a “secure location” (no one except the feds know where Mutallab is located.) Another caveat – how was Mutallab allowed to move so easily through Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam? Shouldn’t there be surveillance camera video of him and possibly of the “sharp dressed man?” At first, airport officials in Amsterdam said Mutallab did not go through normal security procedures to show his passport. Later, they changed their story and claimed he did have a passport. Dutch airport security officials maintain his name was listed on the passenger manifesto that was given to US authorities who approved it before the plane left Amsterdam. Kurt Haskell has been demanding that the authorities in Amsterdam release the unedited surveillance video from the Schiphol Airport, which he alleges would verify that the “sharp dressed man” accompanied Mutallab. In January Dutch Military police and the FBI indicated that over 200 hours of airport security videotape had been viewed and the tape showed nothing of significance. Haskell received a statement from the FBI claiming that

written by Mark Taylor-Canfield the video has been viewed and that Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab had a passport. US President Barack Obama reportedly commented that there was no lack of intelligence on Mutallab and his intentions. What was lacking was the failure of intelligence agencies to act on the information. A tape recording surfaced in January which claimed that Osama Bin Laden was behind the attempted bombing on Christmas day. In the January 18th issue of the New York Times, the newspaper reported that US government wiretaps in Yemen revealed someone named “Umar Farouk” was planning an attack in the US on Christmas. Four days before Mutallab tried to blow up the Northwest Airlines plane, a videotape was released to the media. ABC News described the speaker on the tape as “the leader of al Qaeda in Yemen”. The man threatens to kill Americans, who he describes as “the enemies of God.” Some security analysts have concluded that the attack on flight 253 was planned as a response to recent bombings of alleged terrorist targets in Yemen by the US military with assistance provided by the CIA. The Detroit News reported that US Justice Department undersecretary Patrick F. Kennedy testified before the House Committee on Homeland Security that the State Department approved Mutallab’s application for a US visa because they did not want to tip off al Qaeda. If this is true, I can only assume it was done to hide their knowledge of his connections with terrorists. I can’t imagine why the US would choose to pretend they had no knowledge of his activities since apparently the British had already banned him from flying in the UK. According to some reports, the US State Department intended to revoke Mutallab’s visa but was blocked by unnamed US intelligence officials. The “sharp dressed man”, approximately 50 years old, spoke English with an American accent. According to Haskell, with the assistance of his well-to-do friend, Mutallab was allowed to board the plane despite the fact that he had no passport or identification. Haskell is now convinced that the “sharp dressed man” was a US government agent. This is the reason, he says, that the government tried to debunk his original statements as an eyewitness to the attempted bombing, and why the Amsterdam airport refuses to release the security camera video. Mutallab had boarded a KLM flight from Lagos to Amsterdam. Kurt Haskell gives a more detailed description of the man in his second major blog entry: “The FBI asked me what accent the SDM (sharp dressed man) spoke in and I indicated that he had an American accent similar to my own. I further indicated that he wore a tan suit without a tie, was Indian looking, around age 50, 6’0” tall and 250 – 260 lbs.” Haskell is also convinced that the “man in orange” who videotaped the attempted bombing was also working for the US government. It would explain why the FBI made so many contradictory statements about his supposed arrest and detainment. It would also explain why his name and identity have not been released by US law enforcement authorities. Haskell accuses US authorities of having foreknowledge of the planned suicide bombing. He claims it explains a lot of the most puzzling aspects of the incident. For instance, the lax security after the landing, including the failure by security teams to search or secure the plane. He states in his original blog about the subject, “Today is the day I realized that my own country is lying to me and all my fellow Americans.” Another fact: Mutallab was enrolled at University

College London (UCL) in a mechanical engineering program from September 2005 – June 2008. UCL administrators were not willing to officially acknowledge that he was enrolled there, even though they admitted his name appeared in their records. According to an Associated Press report, he was under surveillance by US intelligence agencies for two years prior to the attempted bombing of flight 253. US Congressman Pete Hoekstra told the Associated Foreign Press that Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab might share a connection with the US Army psychiatrist accused of shooting 13 people at Fort Hood in November 2009. Hoekstra, Representative from Michigan, is the senior Republican member of the House Intelligence Committee. It seems that both the Fort Hood shooter and Mutallab may have been in contact with a radical imam in Yemen - Anwar al-Aulaqi. Supposedly, al-Aulaqi advised two of the 911 hijackers who trained in San Diego. He also advised US Army Major Nidal Hassan who allegedly shot 13 people at Fort Hood, Texas in 2009. As reported by the publication This Day in Lagos, Mutallab’s father, Alhaji Umaru Mutallab, met with a CIA station chief in Nigeria and gave information about his son to Nigerian security agencies, as well as to the US embassy in Abuja. Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab had been educated at the British International School in Lome, Tonga, and then attended college in London. He then moved to Egypt and later to Dubai. His family says after that he traveled to Ethiopia, Ghana and then to Nigeria. Supposedly he trained with former Guantanamo Bay detainees in Yemen who are seeking revenge on the US. According to the Defense Department Guantanamo prisoner #333 Muhamad Attik al-Harbi and prisoner #372 Said Ali Shari were released from the US military base without trial by President George W. Bush and sent to Saudi Arabia on November 9, 2007. According to ABC News, these are the two men who are currently leading the insurgency against the US and Saudi-backed government in Yemen. Both of these military commanders appear in the video released in January along with top Yemeni al Qaeda leader Abu Basir Nasar al-Wahishi, a former personal secretary to Osama bin Laden. The FBI conducted a preliminary chemical analysis

of the explosive device found on Mutallab and found that it contained penaerythritol or PETN – the same substance used by convicted “shoe bomber” Richard Reid within a few days of Christmas 2001. Mutallab had gone into the bathroom for 20 minutes before taking his seat again and pulling a blanket over himself, claiming he was ill. Under the blanket he tried to ignite the explosive device using a syringe but the mixture failed to detonate. Instead, it caught the seat on fire, and then flames spread to the wall of the plane before he was subdued by a Dutch filmmaker named Jasper Schuringa. Schuringa told the BBC, “…he was really scared. He had a very frightened look. He wasn’t resisting or anything.” A few conspiracy buffs have suggested that Mutallab was in some kind of a trance. He seemed very subdued for someone planning a dangerous terrorist attack on a plane carrying nearly 300 people including 11 members of the flight crew. Even the man who subdued him, Jasper Schuringa is quoted as saying he appeared to be “in a trance”. “He was staring into nothing. The whole plane was screaming but the suspect, he didn’t say a word.” The CIA is claiming they were first made aware of the threat Mutallab posed to Americans when his father approached them in November. CIA spokesperson Paul Gimigliano states, “Also in November we worked with the embassy to ensure he was in the government terrorist database (Terrorist Identities Datamart Environment or TIDE) – including his possible extremist connections in Yemen. We also forwarded key biographical information about him to the National Counterterrorism Center.” The TIDE list includes approximately 550,000 names. About 400,000 of those names are sent on to the Terrorist Screening Data Base (TSDB) which is a “no-fly” list. According to Department of Homeland Security Secretary Janet Nepolitano, Mutallab’s name was never added to the TSDB. She said, “There was never information that would put this individual on a ‘nofly’ list”. But CBS News reported that as early as August 2009 the CIA was getting information pertaining to a “person of interest” from Nigeria who was meeting with “terrorist elements” in Yemen. Yet according to the agency no connection was made between this suspect and Mutallab when his father visited the US embassy

President Barack Obama meets with National Security Council chief of staff Denis McDonough about updates concerning the attempted terrorist attack of an airliner on Christmas Day.

three months later. In addition, a policy enacted after the 911 attacks that was designed to prevent the misuse of student visas by potential terrorists failed to profile Mutallab, even though single Islamic engineering students tied to religious extremists were considered a major risk factor. Dr. Magnus Ranstorp of the Center for Asymmetric Threat Studies was quoted saying the following in the London Independent: “On the one hand it seems he’s been on the terror watch list but not on the no-fly list. That doesn’t square because the American Department of Homeland Security has pretty stringent data-mining capability. I don’t understand how he had a valid visa if he was known on the terror watch list.” One very logical conclusion, based on the statements of US government officials, is that Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab was allowed to board a plane in Amsterdam and enter the US because our intelligence agencies wanted to follow him inconspicuously in

order to track his movements, hoping to implicate a larger network of terrorist operatives. Whether it is the correct conclusion, I am not sure, but this is certainly the explanation the government would like us to believe. There are, however, far too many unanswered questions at this point to draw any firm conclusions. Much of what has been reported does not really seem to make much sense in the scheme of things. Thanks to folks like Kurt and Lori Haskell, the story will not go away anytime soon. I think we all owe them a debt of gratitude for standing up against the official cover-up, and for their willingness to speak the truth in the face of official obstructionism. People who display this kind of courageous behavior when dealing with powerful elements of the government and the security state apparatus help to re-enforce my faith in basic human nature. Given a choice between official lies and the difficult and possibly uncomfortable truth, some folks still choose to fight for the latter.

Lovers Lair What Haiti Produces written by Saab Lofton

“Baseballs are coming along nicely. They’re produced in U.S.-owned factories where the women who make them get ten cents an hour – if they meet their quota. Since meeting the quota is virtually impossible, they actually make something like five cents an hour. Softballs from Haiti are advertised in the U.S. as being unusually good because they’re hand-dipped into some chemical that makes them hang together properly. The ads don’t mention that the chemical the women hand-dip the balls into is toxic and that, as a result, the women don’t last very long at this work.” --Professor Noam Chomsky, from his book, Secrets, Lies and Democracy Professor Chomsky won a 2005 poll which named him the world’s top public intellectual, so he’s most trustworthy. I pride myself on having an extensive library, and thankfully, I managed to hold onto my copy of Secrets, Lies and Democracy over the years. I mean, you never know when something will come in handy... ...for instance, Rush Limbaugh recently said this about Haiti: “The Haitian economy is entirely dependent on foreign aid. They produce nothing, zilch, zero, nada, and it’s been that way for the longest time.” Now, if by “foreign aid,” Limbaugh is referring to how Haiti has been raped by capitalism/imperialism since Day One, then sure, I’ll buy that (no pun intended). However, that callous line about how the Haitians “produce nothing, zilch, zero, nada” pissed me off to no end and it must be combated. Limbaugh’s motive is clear: As a wealthy white man, he’s obviously petrified that Obama will grow a backbone, tax the rich and then use the revenue to create opportunities for a bunch of NIGGERS who may eventually contribute to ethnic miscegenation. It’s a very old story, but the problem is Limbaugh has tens of millions of fans because the rich and powerful (the rightwing) pay for the airtime that makes a fat bastard like him FAMOUS. In contrast, I’m one of the poor and oppressed (the left-wing), so all I can afford is to send commentaries to an OBSCURE newspaper. Aside from my impoverished existence, the negative consequence to this is all too many will walk away assuming that Limbaugh is supposedly correct; that the Haitians are lazy welfare cheats who “produce nothing, zilch, zero, nada” when Professor Chomsky – the world’s top public intellectual – pointed out how just the opposite is the case. Jesus H. Christ, people! Haitian women have suffered greatly by dipping their hands into toxic sludge in order to produce baseballs! BASEBALLS! As in America’s favorite past time! But who’s going to tell Limbaugh how wrong he is? More to the point, who’s going to tell AMERICA? It’s nice to see so many have come to Haiti’s aid because of the earthquake, but since Limbaugh has an audience of tens of millions, he could potentially curtail future donations by pandering to that age-old fear whites have of NIGGERS taking advantage of them. Well, even


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though I only got hundreds of fans (if that), I’m still morally obligated to try and counter the adverse effect Limbaugh will invariably have. Sigh... To those who claim that all one has to do is work hard, behold! “While some multimillionaires started in poverty, most did not. A study of the origins of 303 textile, railroad and steel executives of the 1870s showed that 90 percent came from middle- or upper-class families. The Horatio Alger stories of ‘rags to riches’ were true for a few men, but mostly a myth, and a useful myth for control.” – Professor Howard Zinn, from his book, A People’s History of the United States To those who claim Professor Zinn is too biased to be believed, behold! “I personally think that society is responsible for a very significant percentage of what I’ve earned.” – Warren Buffett, Number Two on the Forbes 400 By the way, that Warren Buffett quote comes from a 2004 press release which reads as follows: “Whether helped by public research and government contracts, public education, wide-ranging taxpayer-financed infrastructure, or the myriad publicly supported and regulated institutions, no one can claim they did it alone. And yet, the myth persists [that ‘useful myth for control’ Professor Zinn spoke of]. A growing danger is that the myth can be used to justify reducing public investment in the very institutions and infrastructure that not only enable more Americans to become wealthy, but maintain a strong economy.” I derive no pleasure in being an unknown underdog and I certainly don’t like playing defense – which is to say, wait for some fascist like Limbaugh to say something stupid and then respond – so let’s take an offensive stance for a change, shall we? From now on, if anyone happens to see Rush Limbaugh on the street, grab a baseball and throw it at him. I’m serious. Toss it at his hard-to-miss fat ass and say it’s from Haiti. I’m not a Stalinist; I’m against any form of censorship, but there has to be SOME consequence to demonizing the working poor and hurling Haitian baseballs at Limbaugh is as good a punishment as any. Here’s the wind-up -- the pitch ..!



sponsored by The Seattle Sinner @ the Pacific Rim Supper Club & Ballroom Rule & entry forms available at Lover’s Lair

FETISH NITE! First Friday of Every Month Alternative Clothing • Exotic Wear • Lingerie Adult Toys • BDSM Sppecialties • Lubes & Oils Mon-Sat 10am-10pm • Sun 12pm-6pm Photographer: Maggie Avila - Model: Kristina Thalen

Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy by Jeff Diggs

“FREEZE! STEP AWAY FROM THE MAGIC MARKER AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” Ok, so that’s not exactly how it went down but it might as well have. 12 year-old Alexa Gonzalez who is a Junior High School student at Forest Hills, New York, doodled on her desk the words “I love my friends Abby and Faith. Lex was here 2/1/10 :)”. No profanity, no hate, no gang symbols, just a simple message of friendship. Alexa is a typical seventh-grader who likes to dance and draw. When confronted by school officials for doodling, Alexa expected a lecture or possibly detention for her doodle but instead, the junior high school principle had Alexa arrested and taken to the police precinct. Alexa was publicly humiliated in front of her classmates and teachers while police cuffed her hands behind her back and escorted her from school like a criminal felon, all while Alexa had tears gushing down her face. Prior to this incident, Alexa did not have any disciplinary issues with school, the law, or otherwise. Alexa was arrested for violating a school zero tolerance policy. Unfortunately, this is not the first time a student has been arrested for a foolish reason. Since events like 911 and Columbine, schools have adopted zero tolerance policies towards just about every aspect of a student’s daily curriculum. One of the first cases of over the top zero tolerance to gain national notoriety involved Chelsea Fraser in 2007. Chelsea, at age 13, wrote “Okay” on her desk which resulted in her being handcuffed and arrested by police. In November 2009, a middle school in Chicago, Illinois, had 25 children as young as 11 arrested for a food fight. I remember school lunches and the only crime committed there was serving that food. School administers and police have gone too far. Zero tolerance policies are intended to protect students from physical and emotional harm. Incidents such as writing on school property or talking back to a teacher are generally not zero tolerance offences. After school detention and extra curricular activity suspension are very effect first steps in correcting wrong behavior. Actually, sometimes just pulling a student aside and explaining why their behavior is wrong and asking them to stop can work too. But who talks any more in this country? We just head straight for litigation. Emma Jordan-Simpson, executive director of the Children's Defense Fund, a national children's advocacy group noted, "We are arresting [children] at younger and younger ages [in cases] that used to be covered with a trip to the principal's office, not sending children to jail.” Children need parenting and guidance, not arrest records. The Strategy Center, a California-based civil rights group that tracks zero tolerance policies, found that at least 12,000 tardy or truant tickets were issued by the Los Angeles Police Department and school security officers in 2008. The tickets tarnish a student’s records and bring them into the juvenile court system with fines of up to $250 for repeat offenders. This system teaches children that if you’re late, you pay a fine and there are no other consequences. It doesn’t work like that in the real world. If you’re repeatedly late, there is no fine and instead you loss your job. In 1998, New York City took its zero tolerance policies to the next level, placing school security officers under the New York City Police Department. Currently, there are nearly 5,000 employees in the NYPD School Safety Division. Most are not police officers but that number exceeds the total police force in Washington, D.C. In contrast, there are only about 3,000 student counselors in New York City's public school system. Critics of zero tolerance policies say more attention should be paid to social work, counseling and therapy. An increased police presence in schools is one significant step towards a police state. Children who grow up with police interacting in their daily school lives will be desensitized to police activity in their adult lives. In 2005, Michael Soguero, principal at Bronx Guild School, New York, recalls being arrested when he tried to stop a police officer from handcuffing and arresting one of his students. Michael Soguero was taken into custody and charged with assault against the officer. Police and security officers working in schools need specific training on how to work with children. Zero tolerance policies must be redefined to specifically identify criminal acts that pose a true danger to the safety and wellbeing of the students including both physical harm and emotional harm. There are a variety of disciplinary techniques that effectively correct bad behavior without the need for police and legal intervention. Over use of police and excessive punishment for behavioral correction such as writing a message on a desk can lead to a police state environment where children will stop asking questions and stop thinking independently out of fear of punishment. Long term consequences can result in a police state government where people blindly follow a leader to our own demise.


ESSAY | Hello - Who Are You? by Henry Nicolle


t is today again. The elements of a theme for a year of my silly essays have not settled into a recognizable drift or puddle. I wrote this year’s first essays under a cloud of indecision. The year was ending badly in lumps and clots, trailing stringy stuff, drifting unpleasant and unidentifiable odors. Misshapen things had insinuated themselves into our lives, unnoticed until they slimed across our teeth. "What the fuck is this shit in my beer?"A rare few noticed. Most of have just learned to swallow without objection or complaint. Now, 2010 is puking in our lap. Hardly any of us are aware of or feel any concern for the passing of America. There are probably hundreds of ways to describe the mess we are in. Maybe a thousand more to describe our inevitable future. It's probably not surprising that as our days brighten and dim like a stop-motion film of some imaginary landscape, each sunrise burns a new pain, each sunset veils a new betrayal. Tomorrow we will wake again, submerged in the same old, same old of today. (It is always today, so how can we expect tomorrow to be any different than today’s today?) I can see how practitioners of religion, philosophy and sub-quantum theory are forced to create imaginary words and terms. There are no "real" words to describe the circling of humanity around our dead past, present and future. It has been said in my presence that if you notice a turkey on the ground surrounded by a ten-foot circle of other turkeys looking on with interest, that you have found a rattlesnake. The snake has bitten the turkey at the center of attention and is now hiding under the dead turkey, waiting. The turkeys at twenty turkey-paces are aware and alert, keeping their distance, waiting. The snake is outnumbered and surrounded. The turkeys are getting bored. The snake waits. People today are like this. Something's going to happen. Maybe something exciting. Maybe we will simply wander away, sated and dulled? We are the turkeys and the snake. Waiting. In the world today, it seems to me, there is grace, beauty, kindness and life Good and Plenty in comfort for all of us. The quality and quantity of any of it is relative to the ambitions and taste of the individuals and their cultures. The supply cannot be emptied. It constantly overflows. Good and Plenty pours down on all of us, high and low, rich and poor, weak and strong, smart and stupid, alike. What is pleasure to one may not be pleasure to another, but, we all seek and achieve these things. In a world where people are left to ourselves alone to cooperate or go solo as we please, accident, discomfort, disease and death are manageable hazards. In a world where there are people who will not leave other people alone, there is a tendency to exaggerate beyond tolerance the hazards of mortal existence.


We have an overabundance of busybodies whose ambitions are hooks in our flesh. They goad us to their paths. We are pressed to disregard the hooks. They are necessary to our well-being and security is the lie. We obey when we are told that new hooks have been discovered and that we must submit to their piercing and pulling or our well-being will suffer. Our blood and pain are

the harvest we offer to those who hold the strings and tug at our hooks. We do not complain much. "May I have some more, please?" The truth is, we like to be bullied and pushed around. When our officials and public servants leave us alone, we complain that they are not worth the money we surrender for their services. Then when they push us around, take our most cherished property, hurt, maim and kill us, we submit with mild admonishment, but we submit in any event to our diminishment, disparagement and destruction. Who are we, really? Who are you, who accept being only part man, part woman, part slave to any nameless human who is willing to strike you or take your things or your time? Who are you who will surrender your body, even your children to the naked demands of strangers? I do not understand your willingness nor your reluctance to simply say "No!" and to then defy offenses upon our existence. I think it is time for the wheel to turn away from submission to mediocrity of conformity of the hive, flock and herd. It is time to turn outward toward innovation, liberty and Life. Follow the path of cooperative growth, social and individual enlightenment and the peace of being left alone to pursue our own today and tomorrow. We are the turkeys and the snake. Waiting.

Oppression can take many forms

written by Kristen Ivy


small group of elites hold power, and the government makes decisions that are not in the interests of the people. Our country suffers from the illusion that we live in a utopian state of freedom. In fact, the world of nobles and peasants still exists around us. The shadowed side of our ruling class is not political, but financial. One of the founding beliefs of the American system was that the state should exist to serve the people. If freedom is the highest good, then laws should be made to preserve that freedom at all costs. Those in power would like us to follow the fascist and oppressive belief that people serve the state. The founders of our country were worried about corporations and monopolies. Jefferson saw a wealthy elite of businessmen as a threat to freedom, equal to totalitarian government or oppressive religion. Now, government and business are nearly indistinguishable. From agenda-setting lobbyists to corporate welfare and bailouts, endless examples come to mind of how the interests of elites hijacked our system of government. The US government now owns a third of Citigroup, and is the largest shareholder of GM. These steps were taken in the 'national interest'. But the ones who benefit are not the common citizens who make up the nation, but the leaders who profit from a strong nation-state. The leeches. The interlocking nature of these leaders is a complex subject. Professor G. William Domhoff from the University of California has tackled it. The website provides a visual (if somewhat outdated) way to look at the small group who have connections to various companies and policy-making groups. You can see which corporations have board members who are part of the Council on Foreign Relations, without a lot of reading. The line between government and corporate leadership is so blurry it’s become indistinguishable. This leadership is what Karl Marx once called a “band of hostile brothers.� They may squabble for dominance, but they stand together like the sons of a feudal king. They control our economy, make decisions on safety regulations, labor practices, foreign policy, and information accessibility. Mussolini is credited with saying, "Fascism should more properly be called corporatism because it is the merger of state and corporate power." This is uncomfortably close to home for Americans. What happened to the idea that everything is subordinate to individual freedoms? That idea doesn't turn a profit. Healthcare can make good money for shareholders and executives, though. Especially when people are denied care for pre-existing conditions. The system doesn't exist to benefit you. You exist to put your money into a system that will deny you care if they can get away with it. Ask not what the company can do for you, ask what you can do for your company. Instead of owning the company, employees helplessly have their benefits cut, wages frozen, and hours reduced so the shareholders make more money. And let's not forget how profitable war can be! The elites can make billions both at war and rebuilding war-torn areas. The war profiteers in Iraq get richer, US citizens are taxed to support the war, and the politicians show no sign of ending the madness. This economic tyranny is just as dangerous as political oppression. We can refuse to re-elect politicians who don't serve their constituents. But what to do with corporations who act like tyrants instead of servants of the people? In theory, a state can disband a corporation, revoking its charter. Some states allow citizens to sue for revocation. Disbanding corporations may seem like a long shot, but it is our best chance to make a fundamental change in the system. The elites won't just release the financial stranglehold they have on us. The citizens of this country have to support legislation that takes away from corporate power, and use litigation to change the absolute power corporations have. Not to mention taking an active role in local government to keep the profiteers out of our communities. These are big goals, but attainable. Meanwhile, people can work toward a better system by bartering, buying used, and buying local. Avoid corporate banks, corporate media, corporate everything. As much as you can afford, spend your money with companies who provide a fair wage to their workers and a reasonable salary to their executives. Its not as exciting as rioting in the streets, but the little decisions you and I make every day either feed or starve the new nobility. These parasites have enriched themselves at our expense for long enough.


Tales of the Miscreant Monkey Crew Blood of the black owl | Banishing Ritual The rotating roster has become a hallmark of the team, although one theme remains consistent: the Miscreant Monkey Crew seeks out misadventure that no single selfstyled hipster can withstand alone — hence their battle cry, “Monkeys Assemble!”

by Jason Andrew

Grandmaster Flash


s an avid follower of the great and wise prophet Sir Mixalot, I have always held to one simple tenant. I like big butts and I can not lie. I like the curves. I like the swurve. That’s right, even this white boy has to shout! And yet, truth be told, I had never been to a rap show. Why? I’m a bald white guy. This simple lad grew up on Led Zepplin, Motley Crew, and occasionally Styx. Frustrated, Professor C. T. Eslin had recently elected to place himself in charge of my musical education. On a side note, I can now tell the difference between Obie Trice and Eninem. And thus, when word had come to the Miscreant Mansion that Grandmaster Flash would rock the house at Heaven, the call for adventure went forth. Sadly, the monkey flu had wiped out a good portion of the crew. Insatia could not be moved from the couch. Knolan remained in the molestation closet hidden under a mound of blankets. It took much coaxing, but I managed to summon Professor C. T. Eslin from the den. The Mighty Mungo and Gentleman T joined us at Heaven. We were resolved to party for our friends that had fallen ill. General manager Bob Tomazic really knows how to throw a party. The bartending staff at Heaven knows their business. I was fairly certain the Mighty Mungo was going to start making out with Bartender Jamie if he made the drinks any stronger. Their delightful Long Island Iced-Tea hit just the right spot. Monkey consensus declared the drinks quite good and not at all watered down. The security staff remained professional as always and sober, which is a bonus in this town. The promise of Grandmaster Flash did not go unanswered. The ladies of curve and swurve came out in force. Gentleman T’s younger sister rocked the floor shaking her hips with a smile on her lips. Note: Oh yeah, this Doctor of Journalism is learning how to freestyle. After three Long Island Iced-Teas, I joined them on the floor. It had the energy of an old school mosh pit. Of course, I was grinding up against delightful zagfig ladies instead of sweaty fat guys in dirty wife beaters. While Producer Mighty Mungo looked for DJs to interview, Professor C. T. Eslin and I elected to rest in the eletronica side room. Two wily DJs codenamed Smokey and the Bandit approached us and asked if we wanted to interview them outside. Would it be possible to mungo the Mighty Mungo? Did we dare to dream the impossible dream? We followed them through the rain glistened allies of downtown Seattle to their car where we listened to some music and smoked and laughed. Listen, a thousand monkeys all typing at the same tine for a million years couldn’t come up with this shit. On the way back, the good Professor and I stopped at the local BBQ stand for a polish sausage. We stood under the giant wooden Indian and chowed down. Insert random cock sucking joke here. We returned just in time to listen to the Mighty Mungo complain for fifteen minutes about us ditching him and then for Grandmaster Flash to start his set. The man knows his craft. He knows how to work a room over and make us all his bitch. Smoke filled the room and if felt like a vivid dream after a Nyquil bender. Someone grabbed my ass. Not a pat, almost a cavity search. I turned around. It was either the beautiful black amazon woman with delicious curves that towered over me or short white pimp with a fedora. I was afraid to ask. That was when the night became hazy. I recall the warm comfort of a giant pair of soft breasts rocking me as though I were a baby in my mother’s arms. Author’s note: Yeah that last sentence wasn’t meant to be as creepy as it reads. I remember Gentleman T bringing me water and resting on the cement stairs once again. My throat felt raw. Had I been vomiting? The Mighty Mungo was likewise taking care of the invincible Professor? Had we sucumbed the monkey flu? Security thanked the crowd for a good night and then reminded us all that while we didn’t have to go home, we did need to leave. Somehow we crawled back to the mansion and made it under the covers. At long last, the monkey flu had claimed us all. To suggest a new adventure for the Miscreant Monkey Crew, email MiscreantMonkeyCrew@gmail. com. We are looking for an awesome burlesque to review. For more information about the Miscreant Monkey Crew, friend us on Facebook at Miscreant Monkey Crew.


by John Cole In the words of Nick Cave, “all things must come to an end”. With this said, no other album in existence behooves this significant moment of the serpent devouring its tail. The circle has become complete, and through these works The Sinner says adieu, along with this writer who may or may not return in other forms. As one source has it, this is also the final album of BotBO, which becomes even more fitting for its appearance in these pages. As ouroboros chokes on its own being, the serpent is devoured and therefore expunged, banished into other realms not seen by the normal eye. For those who are familiar with Chet W. Scott and James Woodhead, previous incarnations in other musical projects simply will not do in allowing you a semblance of familiarity in this unexplored territory. Bringing forth incantations which are channeled through the Spirit of Daniel Ellis Harrod, the shadow world we all must face is revealed, only to be cast away. The Dark Night of the Soul is a truth of all existence. It is only through travelling through the battlefields that we can reach the proverbial Golden Hall. First we must find the courage to travel this path, and as the music slowly builds up this becomes a possibility. After the statement of intent the eerie dissonance is overcome, and the apparitions within can be cast out. Through will and courage one surivives this album, none are merely listeners. This is a journey, a ritual to quite literally banish those who attempt to drag us down into the pits of whatever fiery depths the human imangination conjures into a tangible reality. Things grow in intensity, often frightening the listener to turn away and return to the safety. Yet this can not and will not be done, for the journey must be completed. Once the intent and statement have become manifestations, the galant voice of Chet drags us on, albeit kicking and screaming. Then, a moment of solace, the pain evaporates into the drips of bliss which in time will drop from the serpent’s tongue. This forboding calm is only a moment to gather one’s strength. One more part of the journey has yet to be travelled, and the Fool must go on. A final banishing to never allow again the aphotic state of previous incarnations to create doubt about who we are. A frantic voice grows close to panic, knowing what must be done, and screaming the intent, a Will that is unwavering. As you become dust, the shadows only beome filters of the light. Spring in itself becomes death, the death of winter, and the battle continues. A past is banished, revealing new forms, new incarnations for us to mold into. Blood of the Black Owl has created “A Banishing Ritual”, which allows every listener to embark on this journey, much like how The Sinner has embarked on this journey along with all of its readers and writers. Now we banish the spirit of our former self, not to end, but to begin who we shall be.

These guys need to carry on for a few more years, together. They are ahead on a time line of virtue, now starting to realize what they can accomplish together. With tones that reach the zenith point, and saturation, we hear the future through the singer's exlogia. Uniting the band is a line of guided strength, handed down the central sequentially, around which coalesce nuclei. Deriving a whirlwind proclative from the freedom of autonomy is a musician's birthright. Bearing this will, it is good to stand straight and centered, while listening to how well they carry. From here can be seen counterpoints in juxtaposition, man and machine, and the modern past, now.

written by Matthew Goad’X

by Paul Ace Diamond “Huggy” Blow I LOVE IT WHEN A JUNKIE MAKES GOOD! That’s right, it’s time for another Huggy Blow book review, as I actually did some reading this past month! American Junkie, by Seattle author Tom Hansen, is an interesting and entertaining read all about the wonderful world of heroin addiction and chronicles the life and times of Hansen as a musician and heroin dealer/addict in Seattle during the punk and grunge years. This book is not pretty as Tom Hansen does not sugar coat or glamorize heroin addiction. Hansen tells it as it is – abscesses and all – and really captures the mind set of a heroin addict what with the insecurities, emotional turmoil, feelings of hopelessness and fears of not belonging in this world, and seeking escape in the nirvana that heroin provides even as the drug destroys the addict’s life and body. Tom Hansen himself was only able and willing to quit heroin after spending six months in a hospital burn unit recovering from the horrendous damage the drugs had done to his body – mainly infected abscesses in his hips and legs which rotted into gaping wounds all the way to the bone. American Junkie details the six months spent in the hospital as well as events in Hansen’s life leading up to his heroin addiction, and of course the day to day life of a heroin dealer/addict. This book also features “cameos” by grunge notables such as Kurt Cobain and Mark Lanagen. Most mainstream people may not be able to relate to this book and say, “Why couldn’t Hansen have been happy drinking a few beers and watching some Leno?” But as Hansen says in his book, “That’s what happens when hope New book from Tom Hansen dies. People die. Or go mad. Or get on drugs.” American Junkie is available now at all the major outlets and author Tom Hansen is doing a book tour. Go to for more details. (Published by Emergency Press) Speaking of Seattle, punk rock, and heroin, it’s only right that I honor the memory of Slats (real name Chris Harvey) in my column. Slats was a big part of the Seattle punk rock scene in the 1980s and played guitar for bands including the Silly Killers, Cheating Death, and in more recent times Pain Cocktail. I knew Slats quite well “in the day” as we lived in a house together for six months, hung out on the Ave with the punkers, played in Cheating Death together, and partied down at all the punk rock parties. Slats was a real punk rock stud, funny as heck, a sweetheart of a guy and a real charmer. Sadly, a lot of people in that scene turned into heroin addicts and some of those people never were able to escape the clutches of the drug or the damage it did for good. Slats was one of those, and although I didn’t hang out with him much in the past decade it did seem he was doing a lot better in recent years and it was always good to see him around and about at shows. Unfortunately, Slats had some serious health issues and passed away on March 13, one day before his birthday. I could write a book on my adventures with Slats but for now I’ll just say... rest easy, old mate, I’ll always remember the good times!

HUGGY BLOW’S ROCK STAR OF THE MONTH: Ian Astbury: Ian Astbury has been one of my favorite singers in rock music ever since the late 1980s when the Cult was huge after their Sonic Temple album came out. Ian is simply a ROCK vocalist in the truest sense... his voice is golden, sexy, full of rock’n’roll attitude and a sexual spirituality reminiscent of Jim Morrison. Ian Astbury without a doubt channels the spirit of Jim Morrison – or at least is highly influenced by him – and Ian even took on lead vocal duties for the Doors in 2002. Ian’s lyrical work is sheer poetry full of spiritual and mystical references that is simply mind-blowing. What I really love about Ian is how he has changed his and the band’s image so many times -- from the post-punk, new wave version of the Cult in the early ’80s to the hard rock version in the late ’80s, to the modern version in today’s times -Ian Astbury has always looked and dressed cool, the epitome of a “rock star.” That and his sexy spirituality makes Ian my Rock Star of the Month. Shine on, Ian!

Model: Memorie

Spiritual rocker Ian Astbury



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R.I.P. Still A Mystery - March 13, 2010 Photo by Guitar Doug

Bianca Malise Interviews I had the pleasure to shoot and interview The Sins @ The Showbox on Jan 9th. Not only did we talk about the show but we also discussed their soon to be released 3rd album, The Undone. For starters, since their 3 year hiatus, this time around they are much more focused on what they’re doing and as a band they’ve grown tremendously in the short amount of time they’ve been back together. On stage, these gents function perfectly as a unit, while all emanating their individuality. It makes for a stage show that is infectious to all watching. Their chemistry on stage is Fish Jones on Bass beautifully intense. When can we expect The Undone to be released? JvH – The release date is a bit up in the air right now. I would expect it to be ready in late March or early April of this year. Many of us can’t wait! Hey Jamie! In addition to the highly anticipated release of your third studio album, what do “The Sins” have planned for us in 2010? JK - I can’t for sure muse upon what the future holds to be honest. We’ve been playing it by ear after our 3 year hiatus ended. It’s been a snowball effect for us. Last year at this time we only really had plans to record a single song to test the waters. Lee was in another band and JvH was living in Cincinnati. Now we have a full album close to finished and we’ve played 4 shows at some nice venues here in Seattle. One thing that is for sure is that we are all optimistic about having a great year! And You shall have it! Fish, What types of changes have you personally made in your craft as the bass player of “The Sins” and as a band in general since the reunion? Fish Jones - Actually, three years away was a learning experience. I appreciate these guys more and we’ve become a closer dysfunctional family than we were before. I was in maybe half a dozen bands within that timeframe, all with different styles and sounds. Even though things didn’t work out the way I hoped with those bands, I did take my experiences with those bands and incorporated it in what I’m doing now. Jyri even told me that I’ve become a better bassist and that was at a time I was with one of those bands. As for what to expect from the next album? This will probably the most personal album we’ve done in the sense that it’s ours from track one. Our last two efforts were a bit of a rush job and we were under time and budget constraints. Thanks to modern science, what started out as drunken talk turned out to be a labor of love over a period of a year and The Undone is just getting the finishing touches done on it. This album, in fact, was the catalyst for bringing the Sins back together. If it weren’t for that, I’d be in my 18th band now.

Jyri, You are one of the few electric violinists I have seen in bands of this genre. At what age did you pick up a violin and how has your experience and practice with it changed over time? JG - I first started taking classical violin lessons when I was seven-years-old and continued playing classical music through most of high school for a total of ten years.  Towards the latter part of high school, I really wanted to play guitar in a rock band, but because of my strict religious upbringing, that was not allowed.  As a result I quit playing violin my junior year. I did not pick up the instrument again until I was in my late twenties.  By that time I realized that I could accomplish much of the same types of sounds as a guitar by utilizing an electric pickup and effects.  From this point I continued to experiment and figured out better ways to incorporate the violin into a rock band. Also, very soon you have an album coming out under the name Anguisette. Tell us a little bit about this band and what we can expect to experience listening to The Creation Chamber. JG - Angusiette is my solo, electronic/dance project that I have been working off and on for about seven years. I wrote and composed the majority of the music with the help of some talented friends.  Each track features a guest female vocalist.  The album is a journey through one’s emotions during the loss of a relationship.  Its release is slated for Feb/Mar of 2010. Lee, thank you for your time for this article. It is much appreciated by us @ “The Seattle Sinner”. LT - Thank you Bianca, it has been an amazing experience for us. The rekindling of friendships, the ability to play with some great musicians again, the songwriting, the songs, the shows, the fans, it has all been simply awesome. It’s like being away from your family for a very long time and then coming home to see them during the holidays. You just can’t replace that kind of emotion. This album has been talked about for quite some time now. I always knew that The SINS would eventually regroup one day to record it and that it was only a matter of time until we actually did. I’m very happy and stoked about it all. This album is also more exploratory than past SINS’ albums in that there are a lot of new ideas on there. We’ve all grown musically and as people as well. We bring these new experiences and growth through our songwriting to the table. The SINS are always finding ways to push the boundaries of whatever musical genre it is that we fit into. We breathe new influence into that genre and are always trying out new things. We aim to be the innovators as opposed to just the followers. That spirit is very prevalent on this new album.” JvH Frontman

Thank you all and I predict 2010 is going to be your year here in Seattle!

Notes From The Fish Tank! by Fish - photos courtesy of 9 N Out


've had the pleasure of playing with Nine N Out for a brief time. Not only are they very personable and very nice and lack any pretention (Something lacking in this town), they seriously rock out loud. If you go to one of their shows and don't find yourself shaking it up on the dance floor with front woman Carla Bueno, then you are crippled, lacking soul, dead, or all three. With its driving rhythms, catchy hooks, and attention grabbing vocals, Nine N Out positions themselves to be heir apparent to the Runaways. Just don't ask Carla to don the lingerie. Kidding aside, I felt that this band deserves attention, so I'm using my bully pulpit to present them to you. They may not wear leather or eyeliner, but they sure as hell can knock you on your ass with their music right after you're done shaking it. Justify your existence. Steve Connolly (guitarist): We are around to have fun, first and foremost. We enjoy playing music and hope we can bring a sound people like. Joseph Lee (drums): I drum, therefore I am. Carla Bueno (vocals): I rock, therefore I am. It is said that nature abhors a vacuum. What void does Nine N Out fill? CB: The FUN void. If you like to be in a high energy, dance your ass off, make new friends and have a blast environment, then Nine N Out is for YOU. JL: We fill an immense void as a band who gets people in Seattle to get off their ass and dance and drink and have a good time. Your alcohol dollar goes farther when you slosh and shake it around. SC: Upbeat, hard and fast, crowd dancing and have a lot of fun void. Are any of the songs you write born out of any personal experiences or created from any cathartic fantasies? SC: Several of the songs were written about past love or heart break. Those emotions can blend well for all genres of music, whether slow ballads or fast funk. Writing down the music is cathartic in itself. JL: I personally write mainly bits of added noise here and there. CB: Yes. I get mad. I write about it. Let's face it. Seattle has a ton of bands right now. What is Nine N Out's way to stand out from the rest of the pack? CB: We are not "cool" or "hip" or "on the cutting edge." we stand out by virtue of not standing out at all. SC: To not get labeled into just one genre of music. We all get along great and like to have fun.


Happy Zombie Jesus Day JL: We play music that we have fun playing and that translates to people having fun listening to and hopefully even dancing to. Whether it's true or romanticized, the Seattle music scene was a very inclusive and supportive environment 20 years ago (e.g. Sir Mix-A-Lot hanging with Mudhoney). Nowadays, it's very competitive and clique oriented, with headbangers sticking with metal bands, goths sticking with industrial and dark rock bands, and the rest of Seattle falling in with indie pop bands. And everyone is ready to step on someone else to try to rise to the top. How does Nine N Out cope with such a toxic environment and have you ever been tempted to wallow in the muck? JL: Don’t worry about it and hang with nice people. We will probably never play at certain clubs, because we aren’t in with the in crowd and no one ever returns calls or emails, but no one is stressing over it. CB: I think none of them would let us in, so we get to avoid it all together. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we have never been tempted to wallow in that particular brand of muck. SC: We have never wanted to be part of a clique – we play with all sorts of different bands and music, from country, punk and metal. We have always been supportive. Good music is good music. No matter what the type. We are only looking to have a good time. Carla is the youngest at 40 and we have no dreams of “making it big”. Just for the fun of it.

to this point? SC: I think our last show (3/12) at the Skylark was awesome. Very energetic crowd that danced throughout our entire set. Gave us a lot of energy up on stage. CB: Most of the shows at the skylark. That is an incredibly fun, supportive place. JL :The show we just played on 3/12 at The Skylark was a blast. The opening bands were awesome and we had people dancing and yelling, including some go-go dancers on stage, almost the whole set. What was the flat out worst show you've done up to this point? CB: One at Jimmy Z's in Everett (too drunk) and one at Fuel in Pioneer Square (too drunk) SC: There are a couple of them I think of! … Train wreck at Fuel where we drank too much…once my guitar malfunctioned at the Blue Moon tavern – forgot to bring my back up guitar. I have never forgotten my back up guitar from that point on…. JL: One night at Fuel, too much fuel was involved and we were a train wreck waiting to happen, but never

completely went off the tracks, or did we? Are there any salacious and hedonistic rock star stories from Nine N Out Land that you can share? CB: Well, they happened while I was *in* Nine N Out, but not as a result thereof. also, I cannot share. :) SC: We are pretty straight laced band…the craziest we ever get is tipping back a few too many pints. Nobody has fallen of the stage, yet. JL: I like to listen to baseball games in my car while sucking on a cold latte while I wait for our set. Since this is the April issue, where can people find you rockin' out this month and down the road? JL: April 17th @ the Josephine in Ballard and May 22nd at The Shanty in Lake City Check them out at and at the usual places (Facebook, Reverbnation, etc.). Also if you want your 15 minutes stretched out a little further, email me at

The members are of varying ages, backgrounds and experiences. Besides the desire to be in a band, what other common factors are at play that keep you all together and how do your ages, backgrounds and experiences add to what do today? SC: We smoke a lot of pot. …. Just joking. I think we all love playing music, we get along great, point of view on life are aligned. We are like family. CB: We are all interested in enjoying ourselves and just getting better at what we do as we do it. We are also not bigots which is quite a uniting factor. We actually like to be nice to one another and support one another. Like Steve said: we are like family (albeit, a fairly functional one). JL: It’s a great mix of people right now. We have fun together and somehow music comes out. Rank in order of importance to you: Songwriting. Recording. Playing live. JL CB SC: Playing live, songwriting, recording. What was the best show that you've ever done up

photo by Julie Lary



n March 13, 2010, founder of the Seattle rock band Why do they give a shit about where I am? Who cares?” coming to their house. She also mentioned Slats Pain Cocktail passed away. He was under the care Anyone who knew Slats knew he secretly loved the was studying music with a teacher all the way up of his mother and some of Seattle’s best doctors, but attention he got from The Stranger. until his death, which is something even his closest Chris Harvey, aka Slats, could not hang on any longer. I spoke with Mrs. Harvey, Slats’ mother, while friends didn’t know. Slats succumbed to cancer, after months of working on this story. She appreciates all the support According to Mrs. Harvey, Slats gradually chemotherapy and radiation, according to his mother. she’s received from the Seattle rock community, but also drifted from a straight A student, to a kid who only He was eventually moved to a hospice, released to his asked me to set one thing straight. cared about playing guitar and meeting girls by the family and left the world with a handful of very close and It would seen some knuckle-head thought it would time he hit high school. He eventually graduated loyal friends who came out and said goodbye. be cute to let Mrs. Harvey believe that people are saying Garfield High School with a GED but never attended Slats’ illness goes down as one of Seattle’s best kept that Slats died of a drug overdose. This is news to me, college. secrets, because only his family and very closest friends because I thought it was common knowledge that he “What I admire most about my son, is that he new of his cancer diagnosis. Slats never wanted anyone died of cancer. But, she asked me if I would include beat his addiction 8 years ago.” she told me. to feel sorry for him, so the cancer was never disclosed this statement by her in my story, which obviously is my Weather Slats kicked drugs is not my place until after his death. A broken hip and femur, which pleasure. to say. I have no clue, because I never had a put him in the hospital way back before Thanksgiving, “Chris was brilliant, talented and full of life. He had a conversation about drugs with him. The entire time ended up being a convenient cover story to explain his marvelous sense of humor and was the most affectionate I knew Slats, music and woman are all we talked. noticeable absence from the music scene over the past character you would ever want to meet. He loved all his Nothing more and nothing less. I know he had Cocktail rehearsal at Crybaby Studios 2008. several months. friends and worried about those with problems and those some health issues that required prescriptions, but Pain “Thursday Open Rehearsal If Your Hot” event. I spoke with Slats several times while he was in the who were homeless. Chris died of cancer, not drugs. beyond that, the most I ever saw him do is have a Pictured are Slats and Blake. hospital and after he was released and can say for sure, Anyone who would say otherwise, is not worthy of his whiskey sour, or two. he never gave up hope and never believed he would friendship.” Slats was a guy who battled drug addiction, If there was an unsavory character in just about any die. Slats was planning on returning by his own admission. Big deal, he’s to record a Pain Cocktail album and “Chris died of cancer, not drugs. Anyone who says differently a rock musician. Welcome to the music Seattle neighborhood, odds are Slats knew the person play shows as if nothing had ever business. Nobody claimed it was a church by name. At any rock show, Slats knew everyone from is not worthy of his friendship.” Mrs. Harvey - Slats mother outing. To a large extent, I think the drug the club owner, to the doorman, to the kitchen help, to the happened. We had a deal that as guy selling coke in the bathroom, to the guy in a street soon as the album was released, he label was a bit overblown. would be interviewed as Rock Artist Of The Month in The Slats’ mom, has been a long time defender of her Mrs. Harvey said to me, “His appearance didn’t fight outside on the sidewalk. Slats knew everyone and Seattle Sinner. son and his biggest fan. She is the “cool rock mom“, help the situation much, either...” referring to Slats’ Keith everyone knew Slats. Slats was warm, compassionate, polite and more According to Slats, the number of people from every teenager with an electric guitar or drum set, wished Richards like appearance and wardrobe. bands who visited, called on the phone, sent cards and they had growing up. Mrs. Harvey remembers Slats kicking heroin years fun to be around than just about anyone you could ever meet. Slats’ friends were a “who’s who” of Seattle’s most letters, and threw benefit concerts for him while he was To this day, Mrs. Harvey brags about what a back as “Hell.” in the hospital was staggering. He told me several times good student Slats was as a kid and the academic As always, she was by his side, helping him pull popular current and past rock musicians. And a night out how touched he was by the outpouring from the music opportunities that presented themselves as a result of his himself together night after night and never making him with Slats, was a night out hanging with what seemed like community, but he seemed genuinely surprised by the nearly straight A grade point average. She claims he had feel like less of a person, because he was a person half the bands in town. Where Slats went, the party went. He also knew or had dated, what seemed like, half attention he was getting. an “well above average” intelligence and was classified battling personal demons. Even before he became sick, Slats would become “gifted“ as a child. Slats was a confident guy, who would be the first the sexy woman in the rock scene. Slats bar hopped almost every night, but easily irritated by attention or forums like The Strangers: At around 12, Mrs. Harvey says Slats took and to put you in your place if you deserved it. Much of the “Where’s Slats” board. interest in learning guitar. She remembers searching confidence came from his mother, who to this day feels became bored. He would hit one bar, watch one set, hit the next place for an hour, then would be out the door to He never once read the forum. Slats never bothered high and low for the best teacher money could buy and her son could do no wrong. to learn how to use a computer, but would sometimes say enrolling Slats in several weekly lessons. Some were at I became friends with Slats by default, only because the next club or party by cab. His reputation for being “everywhere” was from when asked about it, something like,“Fuck The Stranger! a local guitar shop, while others included the teacher he was at every decent show I attended over the past three years. I am here to tell you, Slats was no Saint and the fact that he never stayed in one spot very long, but sure as hell not the warm and fuzzy Capital Hill guru he moved from place to place, year in and year out. He Slats celebrates the birth of the new baby of Terri from the Bloodclots and always seemed to have an inexhaustible pocket full of is suddenly being portrayed to be. Tiffany Shimmers. Photo from The Cha Cha Lounge. Slats fought with, or replaced band members money for drinks, but I never got around to asking where constantly, talked plenty of shit about people behind he got his money. Slats also loved to poke fun at himself and seemed their backs and wherever Slats went, a large cloud of drama followed, generally having something to do with to like it even more when his friends poked fun back at him. As long as you dished it out, you would get it back a woman. Slats was a guy who was always in some degree twice as much with Slats. He could see right through a phony and would call of physical pain, which lead to him to be in more bad you out the minute you opened your mouth with anything moods than good. “Always bitching about something“ is how I would he saw as pretentious, exaggerated, or untruthful. If a person were to become to full of themselves around describe Slats. Like most who knew him, I always came back for Slats, he would be the first to gladly step forward with more though, because he was so damn entertaining a pin and burst your over inflated ego. Bringing people and always had himself in the middle of some crazy back down to earth or putting them in their place is what predicament, only Slats could get himself into. Slats was Slats did. Slats was truly the “hipster’s hipster“, which will one of the funniest guys I knew, even when he wasn’t trying to be. It wasn’t impossible to have a bad time with be just as much of his legacy as anything he ever did musically. If Slats was not at your show, event or club Slats. Slats was also very street wise, and about the last on any given night, it was probably time to take a look at person who would fall for a con or let someone get over where you fucked up. Rest in Peace Slats. You may not have been perfect, on him. He knew just about everyone you shouldn’t, from the Ave in the U-District, to Broadway on Capital Hill, to but you were a true Seattle original. Guitar Doug 2008 Belltown and Pioneer Square.


toed pumps on and you were a Queen, you could not come in. So, for those of us who don’t know you, and for those of us who want to know you better, can you tell us, where did “Roxy” come from? I was born in Nation City, California, some odd years ago that I will not disclose. (lol) I moved to Washington when I was 13. I left home when I was 15. And how Roxy came about was when I was about 17 and it came across after a Nina Hoggen song that someone named me that, ‘cause it was like Roxy, Blitzka, Dance, Sateria (phonic). And then some how they named me Roxy and that’s how it all started.

An Interview with Roxy by Ken “The King” Poirier


first met Roxy on a hot summer evening in 2006. At the time, I had just started hosting The Bedroom Club at the 12th Ave theater, when I was asked if I’d like to perform at a show down the street called Vicious Dolls. Eagerly yearning to spread my new found “Boylesk” wings, I soon found myself at Club Vogue. The show Opened up with The Nasty Habits, an all transvestite 80s/90s cover band. Then came the Vicious Dolls, a mixed up group of Drag Kings and Queens, Burlesque Girls, Singers, Belly Dancers, Break dancers, and now me. The show was hosted by Jessie and Roxy. To say the least, I had a blast and quite soon I was a regular. Since then, the Vogue has closed, but Roxy has re-opened Club Vogue downstairs

still under the same name, The Vicious Dolls. Somehow I always bring the name Viscous Dolls back. It’s called Vicious Dolls because every Queen I know is Viscous. (LOL) Including myself at some point. So what a perfect name Vicious Dolls.

So what is your goal with Club Vogue, The Vicious Dolls, and even Roxy herself in the up coming year? My goal with the Vogue is to keep it exactly how it is, but start bringing in a lot of cool things, do a lot of different events, something special every month weather it’s a zombie party or a fashion show or whatever. And new bands to open up the show. The show has always

been about bands and babes. It’s one of those things, like Saturday night, you got to come in and experience it for yourself. You can’t really tell someone about it. You really have to come down and see it for yourself. Everyone who has been down here has been like “Oh my god, this is a cool venue, everyone here is so nice.” That is very important to me. That’s why I do this. Well, It’s never been the same show twice in the three years I’ve come to see it. That’s for sure! That was all the time I had to talk before Roxy had to meet with her cast and crew before the evening show. I highly recommend if you got $5 to spend on the show check out either the Viscous Dolls Tuesday night or Club Vogue Dance Night (Goth/80s industrial) Saturday Nights at Club Vogue. If you never have checked out Seattle’s counter-culture, here is a good safe place to start. You can also watch the full interview on video at

So at the Viscous Dolls, what kind of show should people expect to see? Who should they expect to hang out with? Well, they should expect to hang out with a lot of the Vogue people, because the Vogue people are going to come out and support me. But they also should expect to see all walks of life, like transsexuals or even transsexual lovers to be exact. So you can guess a lot of different people come down here. And my main thing is on Tuesdays, I want people to come down here and dress casual. I want you to step out and relax and have a cheap drink and watch a show that’s not so put together that’s more open. So, if Tuesdays are more casual, what’s the Vogue like on Saturdays? Saturdays are more of a dress up night.

from Neighbor’s Bar on Broadway. I got a few minutes to catch up with her before the last incarnation of the Vicious Dolls. So this is Club vogue down here (under Neighbor’s Bar), right? Downstairs is the Vogue, part of Club Vogue or Vogue Night. I took it over probably two years ago I would imagine. Because the Vogue was located on 11th ave. Well, when that closed down, they moved and changed the name to the Blacklight. It just did not do very good business there. They moved it downstairs in that same building, and asked me if I could take it over ‘cause after 25 years of owning and running the vogue, [the owners] had enough of it. I did not really want to do it at the time. I had other things I was working on. But finally [the owners] said, “Well, these people are dedicated to us, they need some where to go. please … we would love you for ever.” So, I of course really had to do it. I eventually took over the business name and moved it over here. So, Tuesday nights is The Vicious Dolls show. Now, you started that over 24 years ago, are you the founder? I’m the founder of it. 24 years in different places and the name has changed a few times. To like Roxy’s Dollhouse, Dollhouse Productions, or VAMP, but it’s always


Is there a dress code? We DO NOT have a dress code, the OLD Vogue had a dress code enforced. We do not enforce a dress code. Everybody here is welcome. All shapes and sizes … Whatever. My main thing about keeping the Vogue alive is that the Vogue was always about everybody coming together in one room and getting them all together. It didn’t matter if you were gay or strait, bisexual, goth or punk, to totally normal pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, everybody together, nobody fighting or nobody pointing someone out, calling someone a name or whatever. It was about everyone together having a good time. That’s very important to me. I dig that vibe. It is an important thing to keep doing... A lot of the places you go to are not like that. There’s always somebody who gets discriminated against. Throughout the years I have been going through doing all of this, and all the different clubs I’ve gone through and even I’ve been discriminated against many times where I couldn’t wear, say, a shade of lipstick I had on or a pair of high heels because I was transsexual … but it would be ok if I was in a pair of tennis shoes and made up. So there is even that sort of discrimination was going on. Yeah, I know what your talking about. The old “open toe shoe” rule and stuff like that. Right, and you know, it used to also be in the gay bars where they were also like that. Like if you were black you would need two pieces of ID. If you had opened

BODIES... REVEALED written by Maija

I HONESTLY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. BODIES ... the exhibition has been enshrouded with mystery and intrigue. There’s been little press as far as I have seen and any information that can be found is vague. It’s controversial and likely underrated. People tend to shy away from the scientific and realistic. I was initially drawn to this event because everything on display is real. There are no plastic replicas here, just real bone, muscle and flesh. If you look real close at the head-to-toe models, you will see their eyelashes. I expected a cold sterile white room with body parts that seemed foreign or alien or somehow evolutionarily removed from me. I was surprised to find myself in a rather large building with nooks and crannies, soothing light and music playing ever so softly to match. I felt as though I were in an art gallery minus the pretension and snooty conversations. Each bend taking you to a new discovery. You would think a building full of ‘bodies’ and human parts would be cold and uninviting. But I have to say, I found the whole experience rewarding and empowering. The moment I stepped through the door I was surprised at how far the real thing was from what I had imagined. It was Saturday evening when I attended and the turnout was good. Each display was nicely spaced, so you don’t feel yourself cluttered together with strangers. And there doesn’t appear to be any chronological order to each display, so should you arrive at one that’s well populated, you can always just move to another and backtrack. I was relieved that there weren’t guides encroaching on my journey. I could spend as long or as short as I wanted at each exhibit. There are no time constraints. And all around, each exhibit had me thoroughly captivated. There was a strong presence of people there to help answer any questions anyone may have, but I never once felt like my personal space was invaded. The smaller body parts were encased in glass, while the larger head-to-toe models were freestanding, which I think brought a nice balance to the exhibits as a whole. Each display includes a little bit of fun knowledge about the specific part of the body and its function. And you have the option of using one of their small non-obtrusive hand held devices which offer even more facts via recordings for many of the displays. I found that these really complimented the whole experience, so I highly recommend you use these on your journey as well. This exhibition is about as thorough as it gets. They left no bone unturned. But don’t worry, there’s no blood, guts and gore. You won’t walk away feeling sick to your stomach... you will walk away feeling a sense of ‘awe’. Some of the highlights for me were the muscular and skeletal systems, which are extremely complex! You can expect to see various parts of the human body overcome with cancer, fetuses (if you dare) and much more. Expect to spend at least 60 minutes. There is nothing like seeing these specimens up close and personal. I thought I knew what to expect. But there is no other exhibit like this! I would without a doubt, go again. I highly recommend this to all of my readers, friends and family. Not only will you be entertained for your stay but your entire lifetime! You will no doubt walk away with a new appreciation for life and your body which makes it all possible! Katherine Seymour (spokesperson for BODIES) was kind enough to answer a few of my questions:

Like most science-related things, Bodies the exhibition has been a subject of controversy. How has this affected the exhibit? Do you ever feel that any controversy has stifled what you are trying to achieve? BODIES…The Exhibition explores the human body in a highly educational manner using real human specimens. While this may cause some concern, we encourage individuals to visit the exhibition for themselves and be enlightened and inspired by the wonder of the human body. What do you hope to achieve with the exhibition? Bodies…The Exhibition allows people to learn about their own bodies and, ultimately, teaches them how to take better care of their health and make positive lifestyle choices. The exhibition enables them to see and understand the medical conditions friends and family members face in a whole new way – by highlighting pressing health concerns, including obesity, breast cancer, colon cancer, cirrhosis of the liver, ectopic pregnancy, arthritis, osteoporosis and bone fractures. As Dr. Roy Glover, chief medical director for BODIES…The Exhibition states, “Seeing promotes understanding, and understanding promotes the most practical kind of body education possible. The body doesn’t lie!” Unlike models that idealize the body through the eyes of an artist, the specimens in this Exhibition show the body and its parts as they really exist. Have you witnessed any unexpected freakouts within the exhibit? A customer who maybe had an unexpected reaction? Not at all. Visitors come with a variety of expectations, but they almost always leave with a greater respect for the human body and its complexity. We treat the specimens at the exhibition with the reverence they deserve, and our guests tend to appreciate that. We're often asked whether people should bring their children to the exhibition. In our ex-

perience, children are even more open and interested in learning about their bodies through the unique perspectives revealed in the exhibition. We recommend that children attend the exhibition with a teacher or parent as an adult guide. We feel strongly that the exhibition can offer a rare family experience: a golden opportunity to open a child’s eyes – and, in a way no textbook ever could, to teach them about the complexities of the human body and the necessity of proper nutrition, regular activity and the importance of healthy lifestyle choices, such as avoiding smoking and alcohol. Do you have to jump through a lot of hoops, getting permits, etc. to keep the exhibit going? No more than any other exhibit. Different cities and countries have different requirements. But as I said before, this is the exhibition's second time in Seattle and we’ve received a warm welcome. Does it take a lot of work to maintain the bodies/ body parts? Polymer preservation, the process used to preserve the specimens for BODIES...The Exhibition, is a revolutionary technique in which human tissue is permanently preserved using liquid silicone rubber. This prevents the natural decay process, making specimens available for study for an indefinite time period. Preparation time varies. A small organ may take only a week, while a full-body specimen may take up to one year to prepare. The end result is a dry, odorless, permanently preserved specimen containing no toxic chemicals. It retains the look of the original, but functions as if it were rubber. The earliest specimens made in the late 1970s are still being used in medical schools around the world. They last indefinitely, just as if they were made entirely of the most indestructible material. I can't be the only one wondering this: where do you get your bodies from? All of the specimens in BODIES…The Exhibition were obtained through a plastination facility

in Dalian, China; who in turn obtained the specimens from medical universities in China including Dalian Medical University. China has a large and highly competent group of anatomist and dissectors, who are essential to properly preparing these specimens for exhibition and educational purposes. Currently, human specimens in medical schools in China, the United States and other countries throughout the world are donated or unidentified bodies. Do the bodies ever freak you out? Some of our specimens are shocking, but not in a scary way. The smoker’s lung, for example, carries a powerful emotional punch. It shows the damage done from a lifetime of smoking, and hopefully it’s enough to “scare” some people into quitting a bad smoking habit. To encourage this, we position the “butt box” next to the lung, inviting visitors to drop their cigarettes into a clear bin as a testament to their new resolution to live smoke-free. More than anything, I'm fascinated and a bit humbled by what the specimens can teach us about what it means to be human and how my daily decisions impact my health and wellbeing. No matter how many times I see them, there's always something new to learn. How long has this exhibit been around? And what brought it about? The exhibition currently on display in Seattle is a new collection of specimens that have never been shown before in the U.S. The specimens are arranged in an experimental layout that reinforces the exhibition’s educational mission by encouraging visitors to wander at their discretion and focus on the specimens that interest them most. BODIES…The Exhibition is organized by Atlanta-based Premier Exhibitions, Inc., the leading provider of museum quality exhibitions around the world. Premier Exhibitions is also the leading promoter of human anatomy exhibitions, unveiling the first such exhibition in the U.S. in 2005.


Photo: Richard Art - Model Bethany Sweet 18

With two months having past since our last issue, and several artists having been considered for this April Fool’s issue of sorts, one would think that I had everything laid out months in advance – not so. Instead, I found myself bouncing from some biker art show to some twisted drag-queen show the night before this print, with questions for Mark Sugiyama still hanging in the wind. But when we picked Mark for this month’s issue, with him knowing nothing about this stunt of ours, I knew that his words alone would capture his thoughts as well as his photography does his passion. So, with that said, this is our two-month old conversation:

Seattle Next Door

The Sinful Photography of interview by Chuck Foster

Tell me a bit about your interest in photography, and all that has kept you going? I can attribute my interest in photography to my creative background as well as a few family members. I have a strong musical background. I started off playing the saxophone and then moved to guitar, which is still my main instrument. I also play bass, drums, and a bit of keyboards. I played in bands in high school and college. I also taught guitar lessons here and there to make ends meet and have recently started teaching again. I also had a strong interest in writing ever since elementary school. I went to writing conferences and such. Apparently my teachers thought I would write the next great American novel. So, I went from writing, to music, to photography. My grandpa, uncle, and dad all had an interest in photography when I was growing up. I did a few courses back in public school working with black and white, film development, etc. I used to go to the lunch room stinking like chemicals from the dark room but I didn't care. I thought it was cool. I believe what's kept me going is the satisfaction I get from any sort of creative endeavor. I need to feed that part of my persona. Without it, I'm lost. I can also say that when I started doing model based photography, the people I've met along the way have been one of the best aspects of the job. And, as most photographers will tell you, you're always on the quest for the next image that makes people say, wow! Tell me about your photography today, where your inspiration comes from? I started Seattle Next Door in 2005 so I'm not nearly as seasoned as other photographers in the area. But, I've worked hard at what I do. I have a passion for photography and I believe it shows in my work. My inspiration comes from everything, really. From my early days as a music fanatic, to film, to books, etc. You name it, there's a good chance I draw inspiration from it for my photography. Even in my early work, I had a few people tell me they saw the musicality in the images, even when I wasn't going for that. For example, they would say a certain image reminded them of an album cover. I'd go back and look at it and realize they were right. In terms of 2010, I'd say my inspiration comes from my constant search to create a unique yet beautiful image. I try not to think in terms of boundaries per se but how can I capture what's in my head through my camera. Much like writing, getting the story from head to paper is not easy, the same can be said for photography. Tell me a bit about the cover shot, how it was created and who the model is? The cover image was shot back in October 2009. I’ve known Christiana only a short time (less than a year). We’ve managed to get some great work done - and that shot is an example of such. It was shot at night with no outside light sources other than what was available. We were going for a sad, zombie, if there is such a thing. She became this character throughout the shoot as we looked at the images. This being that roams from place to place. I like the sadness the image conveys besides the horror aspect.

Model: Anna

What’s been the strangest shoot for you so far? One shoot that immediately comes to mind that was more fun than strange was the shoot I did at a well known fast food restaurant. Now, that may not sound very fun but the shoot was an artistic nude! The model and I went over everything ahead of time (sequence of poses), dashed out of the car, snapped the images, and left. I love those types of shoots, too! Another strange shoot that comes to mind had to do with the model involved. To protect the guilty, let's just say I believe she was loaded on drugs and her behavior was, uh, erratic at best. \What has been the toughest obstacle for you to overcome as a photographer? I can think of two obstacles. The first being keeping my artistic integrity without selling out so to speak. I got into this as an artistic release for me. When opportunities came up for things I wasn't interested in, but the money was right, it was very hard to say no but I did. I've since done my best to walk that line between artistic integrity and corporate sell out. The other obstacle would be taking my work from amateur to professional. That leap is a tough one for any photographer, especially if you're trying to maintain your integrity. What advice would you offer for any upcoming photographers? My advice is to shoot as often as you can when you're starting out. You can't get better at your craft if you don't get out there and shoot. Some photographers will say they've been shooting for five years. Okay, but how many shoots have you done in that time frame? A hundred? Five hundred? One photographer may have only done a few shoots a month while another may have done twenty a month. Having said that, each photographer has to balance the amount of shoots with the quality of each shoot. At my busiest, I always made sure I was giving each shoot 100% of my energy. If I couldn't do that, then I didn't do the shoot. Period. How do you deal with criticism, personally, if it bothers you at all? Every artist is their own worst critic. We all agree on that and I'm no different. However, when someone else criticizes my work, I believe it or not. If they have something constructive to say, like a technical aspect that is off, it can only help me improve my work. But, if they say something generic like my work sucks, then I take that with a grain of salt. I know when I've done good work and when something wasn't quite up to par.

Model: Emma Swan

Last... Where do you see your photography in the future? Any particular ideas, plans or dreams, showings, etc.? And where can readers find more about you? I see my photography growing into other realms, pushing beyond the artistic arena I've been playing around in for the past 5 years. I want to continue to challenge myself with my work while at the same time work on broadening my appeal to potential clients. Without giving too much away, I've been talking to a few businesses about doing work together, to further their brands as well as mine. I'm confident you will see my work in areas that are new for me before the end of the year. Thank you so much for the interview! I really appreciate it. Interested clients can check out my website at: for more information.

Model: Ming

Model: Memorie

By Matthew Gorman


n the scenic and affluent Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania stands a stately thirtyroom Victorian mansion that is steeped in history. This regal edifice, constructed in 1911, is known as The Baleroy Mansion and contains literally thousands upon thousands of valuable and historically significant antiques and artifacts of yesteryear. The home’s former owner, one George Meade Easby, was an avid collector who amassed these items over the lifetime that he spent in the home. In addition to this treasure trove of priceless antiques, however, the mansion houses something else entirely, something far more otherworldly. Indeed, The Baleroy Mansion is said to be one of the most actively haunted houses in the world today, replete with a veritable pantheon of ghosts. But one cannot truly tell the tale of the haunted home without telling the tale of the aforementioned George Meade Easby, who lived at The Baleroy Mansion from the age of six until his death at the age of 87 in 2005. The young Easby would grow up to become a millionaire philanthropist and a person of great note in the who’s who of Philadelphian polite society. Easby was also the great-grandson of U.S. Civil War General George Gordon Meade and a descendent of seven signers of the Declaration of Independence, lending him a great deal of historical prominence as well. Throughout his life Easby wore many hats and seemed to be equally successful in all his endeavors. Though he hailed from a wealthy family to begin with, Easby acquired a great deal of his personal wealth as a well-known Hollywood actor and producer. He was also a successful cartoonist after World War II and a radio talk show personality for some time as well. In addition, Easby served his country working for the U.S. State department for over 25 years. His first love, however, was the collecting of antiques and fine art. Now what lends some places to be haunted while others with perhaps an equal amount of history are not is typically anyone’s guess, although the theories quite naturally abound amongst those who investigate the paranormal. However, it is thought that in the case of The Baleroy Mansion it is the sheer number of antiques, each piece with its own colorful history that may be the cause of so much documented spirit activity within the house. In essence, many people believe that the antiques’ former owners may have come to stay with the antiques themselves. While this theory may certainly hold some water, it does little to explain one of the very first paranormal experiences to occur at the home. An experience that happened to a six-year-old Easby the very day his family first moved into The Baleroy. Excited by their luxurious new home, six-year-old George and his five-year-old brother Steven (some accounts have the boys’ ages at eleven and ten respectively, though there appears no explanation for the historical discrepancy) rushed to the fountain in the courtyard of The Baleroy to espy their reflections in the water. While George found his own reflection to be quite normal his saw his younger brother’s as that of a skeleton! It was only a short time later that Steven would die. The incident left an indelible mark upon George for the rest of his life. Steven never seemed to leave the house, however, even in death, and George would feel his younger brother’s presence in the home for the measure of his days within The Baleroy. One incident involving the ghost of Steven,


pot flew across the entire room and struck the minister in the head. It is certainly clear that not all of the ghosts who dwell within The Baleroy are particularly pleasant and some are even prone to violent acts against the living, a fact that makes this haunted house all the more terrifying still.

occurred when George was an adult entertaining malevolent energy but her origins are unknown. guests at his home. The partygoers were all outside on It’s hard to say exactly how many spirits are the terrace when a large crash was heard from inside actually in the home, a psychic by the name of Judith the house. Upon investigating, George and his guests Richardson Haimes was said to have remarked upon discovered a portrait of Steven that hung in a gallery entering The Baleroy for the very first time, “ My God, in the home had inexplicably I can’t believe how many spirits flown some fifteen feet down are in this house.” the hall. George knew that it George Meade Easby may was Steven’s way of getting have been a bit sensitive as attention, not wishing to be well (this might go some way in excluded from the festivities. explaining the harbinger of death Some restoration workers that he observed with regards to who were working outside by his brother) as he certainly saw the very same fountain that and experienced quit a bit of had foreshadowed the child’s ghostly activity during his years death also witnessed Steven’s at The Baleroy. He claimed to apparition. The men observed have heard footsteps and loud a young blond child peering knocking almost every single down at them from a window day of his life as well as having above, the boy was a spitting many eerie encounters during image for Steven. One of the the night. two men refused to return to One night as he lay in The Baleroy ever again saying bed preparing to sleep George he couldn’t shake the feeling recanted that he felt pressure that something was always next to him as if someone was Gen. George G. Meade watching him. sitting down on the bed next to Steven is not the only him. Then something grabbed member of the Easby clan to remain within the his arm violently! He turned on the light but found no home after death. George claimed to have seen the one there. In the morning his arm was black and blue. apparitions of his uncle and his mother on many Flying objects, such as Steven’s portrait, were an occasions within the home as well. But it is more than occasional occurrence as well. Easby’s longtime friend just Easby’s who number among the many phantoms and fellow antique collector, Lloyd Gross, an avowed that still haunt The Baleroy to this very day. skeptic of the supernatural was made a believer while Other ghosts within the house who were observed guiding a reporter through the historic home at the by George and many others over the years include that behest of Easby. In the East room, which had been of Thomas Jefferson (many of his former possessions George’s mother’s former bedroom, both men were can be found throughout the home), who is observed shocked to see the reporter’s tape recorder go flying in the dining room next to a tall grandfather clock, from his hand across the room. The reporter was the ghost of a friendly monk said to dwell upon the quite shaken up claiming that something had actually second floor, as well as the not-so-friendly apparition yanked it from his grasp. of a cantankerous old crone who walks with a cane. On another occasion, during a party thrown at the Those who see her ghost are often beset with feelings mansion for a visiting minister, around twenty witnesses of despair and even terror. She is considered to be a looked on in fear and amazement as an antique copper

The Chair of Death: Without a doubt, however, one of the scariest and most famous of the home’s haunted phenomenon involves The Blue Room and a twohundred-year-old blue upholstered wing chair that has come to be known as The Chair of Death. The chair, which is said to have been owned at one time by Napoleon himself, has earned its cursed reputation because the last four people who have sat in the chair have met with untimely deaths not long after. George Meade Easby said that the chair is haunted by a malevolent spirit he called Amanda (some accounts say that he called her Amelia, yet another frustrating discrepancy that is the bane of all ghost researchers) who entices people into sitting in the chair. Amanda appears as a blue fog typically in The Blue Room where the chair is located or in the connecting reception area. She has also been known to leave the mansion and to follow people home as well. In one instance, Easby’s friend Lloyd Gross looked through the Blue Room’s doors and saw the blue fog that heralded the presence of Amanda. Remarking that it was so cold he could see the atmosphere to Easby he was shocked when Easby corrected his assumption by stating rather nonchalantly, “Oh no, that’s not fog, that’s the ectoplasm.” Later on, when Gross was walking to his car with Easby following him out he felt someone hit him. He asked Easby why he had hit him to which the second man replied, “I didn’t hit you, I’m way over here.” That’s when Gross knew that Amanda was following him. In his home later that night he witnessed the blue fog again. Needless to say, he was shaken up pretty badly by the whole ordeal. Even more chilling, however, is the tale of the chair/Amanda’s last victim, The Baleroy’s former curator, Paul Kimmons. Kimmons, like Gross, had been a skeptic with regards to the paranormal, having worked at The Baleroy for years without experiencing anything out of the ordinary. One day, however, Easby asked Kimmons to escort the aforementioned psychic Judith Richardson Haimes through the house and it was only moments into the tour that the blue fog appeared coming down the staircase towards them. Paul was absolutely terrified. A few weeks later Judith received a telephone call from Kimmons who was out of his mind with terror. He claimed that Amanda had been following him and that he had seen her everywhere, at his home, even on the street. Not long after, while at The Baleroy, Kimmons sat down in the death chair. He was dead within a month. Judith doesn’t believe that Amanda is actually evil. She feels that the ghost is just misunderstood. She believes that Paul was dying already and that Amanda was simply attempting to help him cross over. Of course, George Meade Easby was fairly convinced of the spirit’s malevolence and the chair’s curse, so who’s to say who’s really right or wrong especially with such a tricky subject as ghosts. One thing’s for sure though, I know I wouldn’t sit in that fucking chair.

The Surly Gourmand Devouring Slices of Misery so You Don’t Have To

2020 Westlake Ave 206-623-1922


almost walked right by the hidden door to Mistral Kitchen. Someone with a less keenly developed sense of humor JAYLENO would write something like “I almost walked right by hidden door to Mistral Kitchen. And I WISH I HAD!” But I’m clearly too sophisticated for that kind of asinine, juvenile jab. So instead I’ll say that your mom is exactly the OPPOSITE of Mistral Kitchen: easy to get into and cheap. Normally I don’t care about ambiance but Mistral Kitchen is so endlessly “upscale” it’s like a stroll through downtown Bellevue. There are three kitchens, which are open to the dining room so you can observe the activity inside. The whole place is mod and spare and it’s so forbidding it’s almost like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, except it isn’t quite as awesome because there’s no Superman inside Mistral Kitchen. Where’s Superman, dude? Where’s Superman? Anyway, once I got over being preoccupied with how clever I am, we ordered some food. The Fluke crudo ($9) was tasty but tiny: four glistening rectangular prisms of translucent white fish arranged around a miniscule bale of julienned radish, microgreens, and green bell pepper which had been shaved into ribbons so thin you could see through it. Streaks of a mildly spicy, but completely unnecessary, mango puree ran down either side of the plate. The fluke was very fresh tasting, but a bit gummy to the bite, and this dish could’ve used some salt. Also: microgreens. Are they technically 1/1000th of a green? If so, then what’s a green? Is it a “regular” sized lettuce leaf? What’s a KILOgreen? That would be if they served the crudo on top of a whole banana leaf, which covered the entire tabletop. Actually, no: a kilogreen is 2.2 pounds of pot. I certainly hope that kilogreens become the trendy new ingredient. Much better than the fluke crudo were the clams ($14). For this price you got a big bowl of steamed manila clams, dotted here and there with sliced shallot rings, half- moons of Spanish chorizo, and a vivid green citrusy gremolata. The clams swam in a pool of light white wine and butter sauce which was so fucking tasty I wish it came out of my cock. The leg of lamb ($24) was as disappointing as sex with your mom and these Mistral Kitchen motherfuckers were trying to charge a hefty price for five triangular medallions of roasted lamb, some black beans, and a couple lettuce leaves. Really, dude? Really? The lamb was competently roasted to a rosy medium rare inside and had a nicely seasoned exterior crust. The beans were painstakingly cooked so that each individual bean was a creamy nugget of flavor unto itself, but the beans and the inadequate straggling random spinach leaves were totally superfluous. Besides, for how tiny the portion size was, this dish was pretty goddamned pricey. Croesus himself would vomit with rage over the sticker shock. To put things into perspective for you assholes, consider this: my electricity bill in the summer is typically $24. So, for the same price as this tiny and utterly lackluster entrée, I can get TWO MONTHS of television, refrigeration, internet porn, and Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. My stove is electric too, and fuck you, “foodies,” if you don’t like it. By “foodies” I

mean “fags.” By “fags” I mean “the kind of conspicuously consuming douchebag who really loves Mistral Kitchen,” and not actual fags. We ordered the ubiquitous potato puree ($7) only because of its clever name. I don’t know what Mistral Kitchen is trying to do, calling this shit “ubiquitous.” Perhaps they’re trying to preemptively deflect accusations of unoriginality? Who gives a fuck? Mashed potatoes are a staple of American life. This is our heritage, you fucking Commies. I LIKE mashed potatoes, and these were excellent: as satiny as a Brazilian wax and so creamy you could use them to soothe a sunburn. Still, I find $7 for about 1/2 cup of mashed potatoes a bit much. Are you getting the picture? Mistral Kitchen is pretty fucking pricey. Yet the seared foie gras was, for $18, paradoxically cheap. This was a rather large section of foie gras, a slippery slice of which came glued to the plate with an apricot puree, and dotted with candied walnuts and garnished with a couple of lame brussel sprout leaves. The portion of foie was bigger than portions I’ve paid up to and including $25 for, so I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to get some foie for the same price your mom charges for a donkey show. It was perfectly seared, but even I can sear a piece of foie gras, so fuck you, Mistral Kitchen. The apricot puree and walnuts were okay, but the brussel sprout leaves pissed me the fuck OFF. Hopefully next time these Mistral Kitchen assholes will splurge and give us a WHOLE brussel sprout. What the fuck. They give you an extra huge slab of foie but can’t give you an entire sprout? Fuck. Dinner limped to a close with the pineapple baba cakes ($9). This dessert was just plain dumb. Was it dumb like Sarah Palin? No, not that dumb, but still. There was too much shit on the plate: in addition to aforementioned baba cake, there was also a pineapple granita, a teaspoon-sized scoop of bacon ice cream, and a slice of fresh pineapple. What a bullshit menagerie. The bacon ice cream had none of the actual salty meat product for which it was named, settling instead on a maple vanilla flavor with maybe a hint of smoke. The pineapple slice was fresh and sweet enough. The granita, light and crunchy and delicately perfumed of pineapple, was actually the best part of this dessert. With its delicate texture and tropical flavor it was a refreshing reminder of better climes, like bright flakes of summer. The eponymous baba cake, on the other hand, was the worst aspect of this dessert: it was mildly sweet and very moist, but I was offended by the fact that I just paid $9 for a piece of cake the size of a champagne cork. Mistral Kitchen is fucked. Everything was pretty okay, and nothing was definitively terrible, but it’s too goddamned expensive. Here’s the problem with Mistral Kitchen: like Barolo, it’s too fucking glossy and airbrushed and blow dried, just like most of the women who eat there. If restaurants were body parts Mistral Kitchen would be breast implants. Maybe that’s not the best analogy, but fuck it. I’m not an analogy factory here, you assholes.

Rating: 7 implants out of 10


Bitching with Buddha Lu c i fe r

Dear Most Evil and Dark Lord, I am a home owner. I bought my house a couple of years ago when the housing market was up and everyone said it would only go higher. Back then the TV market commentators said real estate was a sure thing investment for retirement and would only appreciate in value. Now those same asshole commentators say they saw it all coming and we shouldn’t have ever looked at real estate as an investment. So I’m stuck with a mortgage for a house that’s worth crap now. The bank isn’t interested in re-negotiating the terms of my loan, giving me some long winded “no”. Here’s the thing, I have a job that’s pretty secure. I can make the payments but what really am I getting out of it. It would be better to save that money for retirement, right? So I’m thinking about walking away. My credit history be damned. About half my neighbors have left and I know my leaving would be screwing with the property value of those neighbor’s who haven’t split. So what’s your opinion, should I walk? – Sincerely, Wearing me Snickers Dear WS, So you want me to be your moral compass? I love You already. Look, even if your house lost 25% of its value, the chances of you regaining its former worth in your life time is about zero. Now when you sign on that dotted line and enter into a contract you accept the appreciated or, in this case, depreciated value of your purchase. That’s true of everybody, except banks. They got Congress to bail them out of their bad investments, and you got stuck with the bill. I still laugh when I think of that one, especially since they’re the guys who ruined the country’s economy. So where’s your bailout? Fuck the banks, and don’t walk. RUN! You’ll be doing your neighbor’s and yourself a favor. The money you’ve already paid towards the mortgage is gone, down the toilet. Forget about it. Don’t flush anymore of it away. If you walk the bank will repossess your house and your credit is down the toilet for ten years. You’re not going to buy another house are you? Now if everybody had the mind to walk away from their houses, leaving the banks to repossess all those devalued properties, that would get the bank’s attention. Right now your loss is their gain, but if you walk it’ll become their loss. If enough people walk that should motivate the banks to renegotiate the terms of the mortgage for your neighbors who decided to stay. You and your neighbors win, the bank gets a bloody nose. Doesn’t that give you a warm feeling inside? -Lu Dear Lord of Darkness, I see my friends lose their businesses and jobs in this recession. It’s because the banks aren’t loaning the billions we gave to them. Weren’t they suppose to loan out money to keep the economy running if we bailed them out? Instead they’re still giving themselves million dollar bonuses. I want to hurt them so good, but what can I do? – Misbehaving Well M, have you tried moving your money into a local bank or credit union? If you are banking with one of the five biggest banks, which are too big to fail, like Wells Fargo, JP Morgan Chase, Citibank, Bank of America, Morgan Stanley, or Goldman Sachs then take your business elsewhere. If enough people do this it won’t close them down, but it’ll be like kicking them in the balls. Besides, these banks are going to be out to bleed as much money as they can off you in an effort to make up lost profits. There’s a movement going across the country full of people who are tired of these big banks getting away with their excesses and stiffing us with the bill. Visit “” and learn how you, too, can screw the big banks. - Lu If you want to talk to God, see a psychiatrist, or email: To intercourse with the dark lord Lucifer, drink a bottle of Everclear, or email:


Sex Work

Richard Wagner, Ph.D., ACS Sex Therapist, Sexual Health Counselor and Sex Advice Columnist

and the Law of Supply and Demand Dr. Dick, Providers and consumers are two sides of the same coin; the operative word being coin. Few things are more troublesome to the social hierarchy than the notion of sex for money. And yet, as the saying goes, there’d be no supply if there weren’t a demand. I travel a lot for work and often get really lonely on long trips. I don’t go to bars, because I don’t drink. The idea of looking for sex in a bathhouse or sex club puts me off. Lately I’ve been thinking I should just hire an escort, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It must be a pretty common phenomenon thought, because I see tons of ads for escorts on line in every city I go to. Any suggestions on how I might proceed? — Gabe I presume you’ve ordered out for food while traveling for business, right? Finding a satisfying “order-out” sexual adventure is not all that different. In the case of an escort, the commodities are charming company, erotic massage, and possibly a little sex, instead of potstickers, mu shu pork and Kung Pao Chicken. Now if someone would devise a marketing plan to combine the two — erotic massage and mu shu pork? We’d all die from an overabundance of bliss! Not all order-out is created equal. Just as there is bad food, there are also unsavory escorts. Do your homework. You already know there are scads of escort or rent-a-boy sites on the net. There are also plenty of review sites, where customers of the provider leave their comments regarding levels

of satisfaction and the like. Most escorts, particularly the really good ones, immediately call your attention to the reviews they’ve received. It’s like having the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval stamped on your ass. Start by interviewing a few working boys. This can initially be done via email. Ask for further information about services and rates. Many escorts have photos of themselves available to send to prospective clients, so you might respectfully request those. If at all possible, include a photo of yourself — or at the very least, an accurate description. When communicating with a service provider, NEVER suggest that you are offering money for sex; in most jurisdictions, that’s against the law. While most clients hope to get a little sex in the encounter, the money exchanged is not for the sex. It is for the provider’s time and expertise. This may sound like splitting hairs, but if sex happens it is by mutual agreement by consenting adults during the time you’ve arranged to be together. Finding the right escort for you is your task. Know what you want and know how to ask for it. Don’t waste your time or that of the provider by beating around the bush. If you are new at this, say so. The rent-a-boy, if he’s any good at all, will be familiar with this territory and help you though the initial conversation. There are different levels of pros out there; each will have his own fee structure for services provided. If you’re looking for something kinky, be ready to pay more. Never bargain with the provider. If he’s out of your price range, move along. Or come right out with it and say, “Listen, I have X amount of money to spend. Are

Dr Dick’s Sex Advice you available?” This gives the provider the option to see you at the discounted rate. You’d be a fool not to insist on safe sex, but there’s a shitload of fools out there. When arranging an outcall to your hotel, there may be an additional surcharge for traveling cost. This should be agreed upon before the deal is struck. Not all prostitutes are prostitutes because they want to. But most guys turn pro because they’re good at what they do. And most enjoy the accompanying lifestyle. The truly successful provider will have a string of regulars, men they have a somewhat more intimate connection with. Kinda like finding a great Chinese restaurant and becoming a regular there. The proprietor might just offer you something not on the menu as a way of ac-

This, I Shamelessly Tell You

knowledging your preferred customer status. Get it? Some johns use the service of an agency, which can be a reliable way to go at first. However, I believe the hard-working independent entrepreneur is often one’s best bet. You’ll also find among the independents a unique phenomenon—Gay for Pay. These are ostensibly “straight” (and I use that word in quotes with great intent) guys who will have gay sex with gay men for money. In the old days, we used to refer to them as trade. And like we in the business say, “today’s trade is tomorrow’s competition.” Remember, a wise and informed consumer is happy and satisfied consumer.

by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid

How to become even sicker by going to the hospital for routine stuff, and how to keep scening while you are recovering so sick I won’t be able to do anything by myself, easily, and I’ll have to walk with a freaking cane when I’m out in the world’. Still, without my consent, the universe decided I needed a lesson, or something silly like that (personally, I don’t believe in a punishing God or Goddess), so after that visit, (two days after, exactly), I started to feel like I had the flu. This progressed to the following Sunday (the visit was on a Tuesday), to my left knee being in such pain that by that Monday morning, my honey/slave and I were on our way to the UW Medical Center emergency room to see what was up. Unfortunately Western medicine is in no way capable (especially in its current really messed up state) of dealing with one’s whole body, so they Seattle Next Door Photography only focused on the knee pain, not the mouth pain (which by then had made it difficult to chew he sun is out, as are all the ‘ten-year-olds’ – bopping to i-tunes and texting, walking down the or swallow comfortably) or the sudden appearance of sidewalk. Okay, I admit that’s pretty sarcastic of me a group of angry, red spots on my chest. Those turned to describe grown up people as ‘ten-year-olds’, but into a full body rash that literally went from head to hey, I’m old, so I’m entitled. Normally this only mildly toe in a horrid, leprosy-like contagion that made me annoys me, seeing healthy people turn into ‘Borg’ in get tears in my eyes just looking at it. No one at the front of my eyes, but now that I am ‘with cane’, after emergency room knew what I had, and their ‘solution’ being diagnosed by my naturopath as having a staph was to suggest putting an eighteen guage needle (we infection (which I very likely got on a recent trip to my only found out that it wasn’t eighteen inches after my clinic for a routine ultrasound), the possibility of people partner spoke up for me, demanding they give us more too clueless to pay attention to what’s in front of them, than ‘medical speak/shorthand’) under my kneecap to ‘tap it’ (what does that really mean, I wondered, still in me, makes me see red. No one wakes up one morning and says to pain) for fluid and do more tests. Well, after being there over four hours already, themselves, ‘hey, I know, today I’m going to become


in barely out of pain (somewhere in this nightmare, a more understanding doctor on the team came in and offered me pain meds, which I took, gratefully) I declined this Draconian-sounding procedure. At which point, the doctor suggesting this, gave my partner/ slave and I a disdainful look and exited, and the kinder doc came back and explained a little more, but I still left without that bit of hell being done to me. Next day, at my naturopath, I found out my mouth was sore from both a thrush and strep throat infection and that the knee procedure could have done even more damage to my arthritic knee (the staph infection kicked my arthritis into high gear, which hurt like hell). She put me on a ‘cave woman diet’ of meat and veggies and mouth gargling with salt and vinegar, bed rest and basically continuing with my regimen of healthy supplements (cell food is your friend if you’re sick, and so is ginger tea!). So, two weeks into the worse medical /health crisis my body has ever undergone, I’ve learned a couple of things: people who’ve never been even temporarily disabled are butt ass stupid (I’ve had people stand in my way to say ‘hi’ though I didn’t know them, mostly men, and had people nearly run over me in cars and on two legs while texting). A cane will not make the world around you more compassionate and ‘green’ Seattle is not nearly as accessible to the disabled (at one point I had to use a shopping wheelchair in the supermarket and the experience made me come home and bawl like a two-year-old after nearly being bowled over, nearly having a couple of displays come down on my head and people in general act like I wasn’t there). And I

have the world’s best slave/partner. Who else would dress me like a child when I couldn’t do it myself and let me cry for nearly half an hour on his/her shoulder after the awful shopping experience my first day ‘with cane’. Nonetheless, being the top I am, I’ve kept things light (or tried to when I wasn’t feeling like going out with a machine gun and mowing down clueless able bodied ‘Borg’ in the surrounding neighborhood, downtown having been nicknamed by me, ‘the belly of the beast’) by having my slave dress up in her maid’s outfit to serve me dinner (nothing like a bit of ‘meat’ showing through crotchless undies when you’re being served your meat and veggies of the day). I also had her go downstairs in a pair of my capri leggings (which I knew would show her ‘package’ to all who dared look down, since I didn’t let her wear undies underneath) and oversized shirt to get my mail. And we cuddled a lot and hugged,a lot. Mostly, she/he kept me from losing it, continuing to literally kiss my butt and bury his/her face in my scarred bosom, saying I was still beautiful to him/her. I hope to be all better some day soon, but in the mean time, I’m coping, a tear or two necessary after dealing with the ‘mean, old world’, and I almost cheered the other day when I was finally able to climb up the stairs to the bus for my sally into the world. Still need the lift on the way down, as my knee still locks up a bit and hurts me when it has to do things it isn’t ready for, but hey, I’ll take my little victories where I can find them. This, I shamelessly tell you.


Seattle Sinner issue 85