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Volume 20 Issue 41 June 2, 2014
For 20 years The Synthesis’ goal has remained to provide a forum for entertainment, music, humor, community awareness, opinions, and change.
Columns
This Week...
The Fair!
Letter From the Editor
It’s a veritable smorgasbord-orgasbordorgasbord! Emiliano goes where others dare-not yet agin, peeling back the veil of sexy illusion on the Silver Dollar Fair, and talking to the actual human-carnies running the show. Learn, laugh, and fall in love with this little slice of Smalltown USA
Publisher/Managing Editor
by Amy Olson
amy@synthesis.net
PAGE 4
Immaculate Infection PAGE 5
Comical Ruminations by Zooey Mae
PAGE 7
Preview
Supertime!
logankruidenier.tumblr.com
PAGE 16
Arielle Mullen, Bob Howard, Howl, Jaime O’Neill, Koz McKev, Tommy Diestel, Jayme Washburn, Eli Schwartz, Mona Treme, Emiliano Garcia-Sarnoff, Jon Williams Jessica Sid Vincent Latham
Nerd
Dain Sandoval dain@synthesis.net
Consider the Platypus by Mona Treme
Accounting
PAGE 17
Ben Kirby
Director of Operations Karen Potter
Preview
Owner
Diego’s Umbrella
Bill Fishkin bill@synthesis.net
PAGE 20
Old Crock
by Jaime O'Neill jaimeandkarenoneill@gmail.com
PAGE 21
Kozmik Debris by Koz McKev
PAGE 10
Deliveries
Photography
by Logan Kruidenier
kozmckev@sunset.net
Colin Leiker, Mike Valdez graphics@synthesis.net
Contributing Writers PAGE 10
Is that the sound of 10,000 demon-possessed wild boar stampeding through a small Scandinavian village? No, it’s just black metal band Abigail Williams—not to be confused with the original Salem-Witch-Accuser of 1692—dragging the audience at La Salles into the dark, foreboding pits of hell.
Alex Light Alex@synthesis.net SynthesisWeekly.com/submit-yourevent/
Joey Murphy, Jennifer Foti
Abagail Williams
Abigail Williams
Entertainment Editor
Designers
zooey@synthesis.net
PAGE 8
Creative Director Tanner Ulsh graphics@synthesis.net
by Bob Howard
Madbob@madbob.com
Amy Olson amy@synthesis.net
PAGE 22
The Synthesis is both owned and published by Apartment 8 Productions. All things published in these pages are the property of Apartment 8 Productions and may not be reproduced, copied or used in any other way, shape or form without the written consent of Apartment 8 Productions. One copy (maybe two) of the Synthesis is available free to residents in Butte, Tehama and Shasta counties. Anyone caught removing papers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. All opinions expressed throughout the Synthesis are those of the author and are not necessarily the same opinions as Apartment 8 Productions and the Synthesis. The Synthesis welcomes, wants, and will even desperately beg for letters because we care what you think. We can be reached via snail mail at the Synthesis, 210 W. 6th St., Chico, California, 95928. Email letters@ synthesis.net. Please sign all of your letters with your real name, address and preferably a phone number. We may also edit your submission for content and space.
210 West 6th Street Chico Ca 95928 530.899.7708 editorial@synthesis.net
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 3
barf Having a weekly deadline can be a gift and a curse, as far as inspiration goes. On the one hand, it forces you to barf something out whether you feel like it or not, and it can sometimes turn out that that barf is full of gold that you forgot you swallowed. On the other hand, sometimes it’s just barf, and it can be depressing knowing that you’re showing everyone the disgusting things you’ve been eating.
Now Hear This SYNTHESIS WEEKLY PLAYLIST Danny Brown
Tanner
Danny Brown - “30”
Liz
Hot Chip - “Look at Where We Are”
Mike
Ginuwine - “Pony”
Tara
Raining Jane - “Love is a Battlefield”
Dinah
Harry & the Potters - “The Weapon”
Andrea
Royksopp - “The Girl and the Robot”
Becca
Kavinsky & Lovefoxxx - “Nightcall”
Alex
Teeph - “Spirit Animal Planet”
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
Speaking of disgusting things, who doesn’t love the fair? It smells like fried sugar and pig poop, and fills me with memories of my childhood. Like the first time I ever went with just my friends in 7th grade; I found out you could get free tries at the carnival games if you let the carnies leer and flirt with you. I had no idea at the time that it was incredibly creepy and inappropriate, I was just 13 and excited to be out in the world. During that same excursion I went on my first “scary” ride—the “Falling Star.” If you’re not familiar, it’s basically a set of bleachers on a big stick that raises up about 50 feet in the air and then swings down really fast. At the time, it was the newest and scariest ride in the joint. We had run into a group of guys from school, one of whom my friend had a massive crush on, so naturally we jumped on board when they said they were going on that one. As we waited in line, all I could think about was the mess of fair-food in my churning stomach. I whispered to my friend that I was nervous—a little too loudly, apparently, because the guy she liked turned his head slowly and gave me this withering look. My belly tightened and flipped even more. Anyway, we got on the ride, and it turned out to be every bit as bad as I feared. It wasn’t good-scary in the out of control sense that careening this way and that on a roller coaster might make you feel, it pretty much just makes you feel like you’re in a falling elevator, and makes your stomach drop. Really, really
hard. I clenched my whole body during each fall, determined to not humiliate myself in front of my peers. I pictured vomit flying all over them and everyone on the ground, and then the stories passing around school for the rest of the year. My life as I knew it flashed before my eyes with each swing, and I ferociously swallowed the bile that crept into my throat, willing it back in place. The ride ended and I managed to excuse myself and speed-walk to the nearest bathroom, leaving my friends to their awkward flirting while I crouched in the hot stall, leaning over the filthy toilet with beads of sweat forming on my brow. The feeling finally subsided without incident, but the memory burned itself into my brain. I still can’t see teenagers flirt without feeling a tremor of nausea.
Letter From the Editor by Amy Olson
amy@synthesis.net
Cosmic Balance The wine-making seems to be going well. Yesterday I racked my first batch of mead. Racking is a fancy, wine-making term for siphoning. Basically I siphoned the original wine that was fermenting in a plastic bucket into two separate glass gallon containers, and then fitted the gallon jugs with these weird air-lock things. During the primary fermentation the yeast is making alcohol so fast, and creating so much carbon dioxide, that you don’t have to worry about oxygen spoiling the finished product—but as the fermentation starts to slow down, moving the wine into air-locked containers keeps it from spoiling. Anyway, right now I have the aforementioned batch of mead, a three gallon bucket of plum wine, and a single gallon of flower petal wine. I don’t know how that will taste, but it is a beautiful red color. My life seems to be in perfect balance—whenever anything goes well for me, you can bet that something else will go tragically awry. In this case the counterpoint to my relatively successful foray into wine-making is my chaotic and potentially hazardous work as an amateur mechanic. I have been working on both my Toyota pick-up truck and the old 1953 Ford tractor. I completely botched a bearing job on the Toyota, and the tractor was running before I started working on it, now it is not. This is par for the course, maybe even better than my usual “success” rate.
I suppose it will all work itself out, but for now Trish is not allowed to drive the Toyota, and when I drive it I grip the steering wheel and hold my breath, focused on the reality that the passenger side front wheel could fly off at any moment and send me into an end-over-end flip—not to mention the potential “collateral damage.” Whenever I’m driving in populated areas I find myself involuntarily screaming at bicyclists and pedestrians to “GET THE HELL DOWN!” while I grit my teeth and wave my arms like a chicken trying desperately and against all odds to fly. They look at me like I’m crazy, but I’m only trying to SAVE THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!! On the other hand, if she can figure out how to get it started, Trish is more than welcome to drive the tractor. There is a lot of dry grass out there on the farm that does not seem to be much interested in cutting itself. Letterman just ended and Craig Ferguson is on the screen now—it must be very late. Time, dates, even the day, month and year escape me oftentimes. My head is heavy and getting heavier. Tonight it feels like a lump of concrete. Anyway, I’ve got a yeast culture starting to foment, and I just rubbed jalapeño juice in my left eye. Balance, symmetry, cosmic circles drawing to their natural conclusion; maybe Neil DeGrasse Tyson will do an upcoming Cosmos program about my weird, painful, perfectly balanced life. I could use the money.
Immaculate Infection by Bob Howard Madbob@madbob.com
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
Weird Girls are Weird. Looking back, I think I probably should have gotten in trouble in school a lot more than I actually did. I remember in 5th grade I decided for some reason that it would be a good idea to do all my written work with the tiniest, most miniscule writing possible. Paragraphs were fit within three or four lines. It took me hours, but I found it both soothing and satisfying to spend so much time on something so intricate and meaningless. After about a week of turning in assignments that were completed in writing so tiny they could have been penned by The Borrowers, I was asked by my teacher to stay after class. Shaking a handful of assignments at me, he sighed, “You have to stop. Please. I can’t even read these.” I agreed, and went back to writing in my normal size. I would like to tell you that was the last time I acted out in such a strange and pointless way, but I can’t. That same year I stole a pencil sharpener off the desk of the classmate sitting next to me. I watched as he looked all over for it, then when I grew bored with watching him sort through the contents of his backpack he’d dumped on his desk, I took his sharpener out of my desk. Keeping eye contact with him, I pulled out a pencil and started slowly sharpening it. “That’s my pencil sharpener,” he said. “No. You’re mistaken,” I replied. “It has my name on the bottom,” he said. This was an unforeseen roadblock, but I held strong. “Nope. It’s mine.” He eventually called the teacher over, and the matter was quickly settled
with me handing it back. The next year I was in my karate class (hi-YA), when I started humming one low note. I wasn’t even aware that I was doing it until the instructor announced to the class that whoever was humming needed to stop. Obviously I kept doing it. It went on for so long that he lined us all up and walked down the line until he reached me. He pointed his stubby finger in my face and said sternly, “Stop it.” So I did. I wish I could tell you why I did that kind of weird shit as a child. It wasn’t ever motivated by any kind of malice or desire to annoy people. I think I just really wanted to see what would happen. My point to this rambling mess is that I was weird. I know I was weird. And not in a cool, appealing way, just in an alienating, kind of unrelatable way. However, I’m sort of glad I was a weirdo. Acting out in ways like that was (I think), my way of testing the boundaries of other humans, a well-populated group that I’ve struggled at times to feel connected to. Plus, weirdos are just more interesting. Case in point: the delightful and ever-so-talented miss Christine Fulton, who has a show at the Winchester Goose on June 12! Stay tuned for an interview with her in next week’s issue, and stay weird, my dear reader.
My brother and I. Keeping it weird in 1992.
Comical Ruminations by Zooey Mae
zooey@synthesis.net
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 7
AN EXOTIC ADVENTURES SPECIAL REPORT
Together Again thoroughgoing all-american goodtimes at the silver dollar fair BY EMILIANO GARCIA-SARNOFF
the midway SKYLINE: A TINY TWIRLING CITY. High clouds blanket the sky like cheap comforter filling. In the Fair’s dirt parking lot, everything’s a gauzy glare; the pickup trucks and minivans and beat up Mazdas are all the color of migraine auras and, at 11am, the air is already getting wavy over the hoods.
I’m one of two parties who’ve arrived by bike. This, though the parking is $5 and moves like congealing lava. I’m also probably the only party that isn’t a party at all; a party of one. The other bike riders are a mom and her child, a girl of perhaps seven. Two rodeo clowns, done up to look like they’re riding horses, are bantering with the little girl; one is making a folksy joke about his divorce/ex-wife. The mom and kid, who look very Farmers Market, just stare at them, pale and pink, stricken, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, their faces masks of heat-stroked desperation. But inside, people are adjusting to the heat and starting to have a good time. Ten yards in and we are all growing hungry; hungry to experience, buy, know, ride, ogle, let loose, feel, commune, eat. It’s a great big all-American, all-consuming, Consume-it-all hunger—almost religious. It’s a good, fine spectacle, indeed; a million-course meal of pleasures and
8
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
diversions. But does it still serve some sort of ritualistic tribal function? Is this America? First up! The competitive potted plant building, i.e. “Floriculture.” (Was that anticlimactic?) All over the Fair there are huge outbuildings where nail-biting competitions are taking place to determine the Best in Show for dozens of categories such as “Preserved Foods,” “Baking and Confections” and “Art.” This building is for houseplants. An obsession with winners: Americana without a doubt, I think. I talk to Pamela and David Bergan, pretty much the sweetest grandparental couple I’ve ever met in my life. Pamela Bergan has already picked up a Best in Show for Succulents and a First for her Yellow Pansies, though she’s taken a disappointing Third in Roses. “We plant. We Water. But God makes them grow,” Mrs. Bergan explains. As she continues to talk about her excitement about the youth who’ve entered plants, it immediately occurs to me that this isn’t about winning at all; it’s about more than that. I go back outside and over to a pool with oversized floating hamster balls (disambiguation: hamster balls as in transparent plastic, not furry and recessed). Good-looking, in no way carnylooking guys who I’m pretty sure do CrossFit are playing club bangers over big speakers and helping kids get in and out of the balls. “FAQ # 7: The weight limit is 440 pounds. If it fits and
zips, it ships.” I walk on. The first part of the tawny midway is packed tight with booths selling all species of goods and services. There’s a booth for airbrushing t-shirts and another for airbrushing people with temporary tattoos. There’s Madam Ruby the Psychic’s hallowed hut. There’s a photo studio where two crappy 5x7s are $15, which has inexplicably survived the advent of digital photography. There’s a climbing wall with a $100 at the top, there for the taking. The climbing wall’s Carny—who looks like he probably struggles to climb out of bed—tells me that, yes, it is possible, but that generally one or, more frequently, zero people make it to the $100 over the course of an entire fair. Someone is on that wall every time I look. (Etymological note: the word “mark,” meaning “sucker,” originated from Carny slang. Carnies used to “mark” wealthy/gullible townspeople for victimization by giving them a friendly slap on the back with a chalk-covered hand.) At a sticker booth I stop and chat with
“Dick Jones” (the pornstarish nickname he gives), who is wearing one of the visors he’s selling. The visors are made to look like the wearer has grey troll hair, and, paired with his dramatically receding gums, Dick Jones has a comically ghoulish look, almost Tales From the Crypt. On all three walls behind him towers a collection of those head-slapping, fear-for-humanity-inducing stickers one sees on flyover road trips. There’s “Eat a Beaver/ Save a Tree” and “Got M.I.L.F?” and “Stop the Violence/Increase the Rough Sex” and “If It Smells Like Salmon, Keep On Jammin’/ If It Smells Like Trout, Get the Hell Out!!!” (Although it truly boggles my mind that someone would put that last sticker on any of their possessions, it’s so damn catchy I fear it has forever entered my mind as a piece of folk wisdom/rule of thumb.) There are also a lot of Confederate Flag stickers. Dick Jones is African American. I ask him if, being black and all, selling the “Rebel Flag” makes him uncomfortable. Dick Jones tells me he himself wears a Confederate Flag belt buckle. It’s a strange kind of progress we’re making. I ask a Mexican toy vendor, who has a white push-broom mustache and chest hair spilling out of his scandalously unbuttoned guayabera, who his best customers are. Grandmothers, he answers, surrounded by his Lucha Libre masks, toy guns and tanks. “With Grandmas, it’s like aye, aye, aye,” he tells me, eyes twinkling. At a piercing trailer, husband and wife owners Wendy and Perry tell me that, since the Great Recession, they have a lot more customers coming in with bags of change. “They used to bring hundreds, “Perry says. “Now they come in counting out quarters and nickels.” (Something I witness myself on more than one occasion, including a family excavating a purse for one last chance to win a stuffed Tweety.) Wendy, who has a “diamond” on one of her front teeth, tells me that she won’t pierce anything “below the waist.” “There are things I just don’t wanna see,” she says. Then their little shih tzu trots out, wearing a Service Dog vest. The shih tzu is a “seizure dog,” they explain. It taps Wendy’s leg three times with its wet little nose if it detects Wendy is about to have a seizure, which she does a few times a month. Three years ago the couple was leaving the Mendocino County Fair and Apple Show, driving in their brand new $700,000 RV along a
winding Cliffside highway when the steering linkage snapped (stuff of actual nightmares!), and they went flying over a 40foot cliff. “There was enough time falling for me to think, ‘this is where we check out,’” Perry says. They didn’t check out, obviously, but Wendy’s brain swelled up from the fall, leaving her with recurring seizures.
off broadway, way
having “fun”
On the KPAY Community Stage, Karen Quest is performing her “Cowgirl Trick Show.” Karen Quest is full of jokes, particularly self-deprecating ones about how lame her show is. Which I don’t think is true, exactly. She cracks her whip, a sound to behold, and explains how the sound is generated by an actual sonic boom when the whip’s tip momentarily exceeds the speed of sound. But when she gets to the part of the show where she’s to perform in a blindfold, nearly half of her 11-person audience escapes the moment she gets it on. Across the way, JD Platt is conducting his K9 Kings: Flying Dog Show. JD Platt is deeply tanned, wears a headset microphone, and performs in front of a big picture of himself. Platt does suburban dad dances to “You’ve Got to Show Me Love” and throws Frisbees to his dogs. The actual show is underwhelming, but Platt’s dorky dancing and love for his dogs is infectious. Autographed Frisbees are available after the show. I spend a brief moment contemplating what it would be like to be the type of person who would wait in line for one of those. By far the best show at the Silver Dollar Fair is Hilby the Skinny German Juggling Boy. Hilby wears lederhosen and knee-high socks and juggles impressively. But mostly he just talks a ton of shit. “Vit’s amazing vat you can do with a shower curtain,” Hilby says to an overweight woman walking by in a loose, floral dress. Hilby’s got all kinds of dark, charmingly assholish jokes. “My vife and I: 18 great years. [pause] And then vee met.” He teases a ten-year-old boy blowing up a balloon about catching his herpes. When audience members raise their hands to volunteer, Hilby warns them, “Don’t’ do it like that. Keep it below the eyebrow—I’m German.” As I’m looking down at my notebook, scribbling down notes on his show, I hear Hilby talking shit to an audience member who dared to check his smartphone. Apparently, the guy is rude enough to just keep doing it and Hilby is talking increasingly vigorous German smack to him. I try to take notes on what he’s saying to the guy. “You!” he’s yelling. “Ja, you! Hey!” I look up and Hilby and the entire audience of perhaps 150 are looking at me.
“friendly” staff
(EDITOR’S NOTE: THIS MIGHT BE GUY FIERI?)
“entertainment”
“I was… taking notes,” I mumble inaudibly, in no way helping my cause. Then Hilby forces me go on stage for further humiliation, pretty much my worse nightmare. The whole thing is kind of a blur.
cont. on pg. 18 FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 9
Abigail Williams
LaSalles Brings The Blackest Of Metals June 4th
BY JON WILLIAMS
As rich and diverse as our music scene is, Chico is a town sorely lacking in black metal. Doom, death, sludge, grind and other variants pass through with relative abundance, but only rarely does Chico attract practitioners of metal’s coldest, darkest manifestation. Perhaps the valley heat isn’t the most fertile ground for such a quintessentially Scandinavian art form. Abigail Williams, however, is another beast entirely. Hailing from none other than Phoenix, Arizona and lead by multiinstrumentalist Ken Sorceron, this band of adventurous black metal experimenters have made a career out of mangling every stylistic convention held sacred in black metal—and consequently stoking the ire of its notoriously snobby devotees. The band began their tumultuous career with an EP entitled Legends in 2006, sporting a brand of melodic black metal heavily indebted to the cascading influx of ultramodern American metalcore bands. Anchored by Sorceron amidst a revolving door lineup, the project refused to stand still, reinventing itself on each of its three subsequent LPs, all the while moving closer and closer to the blackness of their Scandinavian influences. Their most recent record, 2012’s expansive Becoming, was an austere, mature and organic piece of atmospheric black metal that shaved off the last vestiges of their metalcore roots. In preparation for their show, I caught up with newest member, guitarist Jeff Wilson. Joining Abigail Williams in 2013, Wilson made a name for himself as the axeman of various Chicago extreme metal bands, including sludge metal miserablists Wolvhammer and greyscale post-metallers Chrome Waves, among many others. Abigail Williams has traditionally been the brainchild of Ken Sorceron. Has your own writing style influenced Abigail Williams’ new material thus far? If so, how? At the point when I joined the band last year, there was already over 2 albums worth of material written. I would have to say when it comes to the writing for the new record, I’ll obviously be adding some layers, but I don’t 10
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
really see myself adding many riffs this time around. The band’s progression since Legends back in 2006 is quite unique. Often we see metal bands become more modern, polished and perhaps accessible as they grow older, but Abigail Williams seems to grow more raw, organic, and atmospheric with every release. Do you agree? Do you see the new material heading in a similar direction? I totally agree with that. The newer material is atmospheric, but not as extreme as Becoming. In my opinion, there’s definitely more focus on having a group of standout songs as opposed to, say, a body of work that should be listened to in order; from front to back; like the last record. From my understanding, Abigail Williams now sports a lineup with three guitar players—yourself, Sorceron, and Ian Jekelis. Has this been a challenge? Not particularly; I think the three of us have a mutual respect for one another. Ian isn’t really into touring so much anymore, so I’m handling all of the live stuff at the moment. How does your membership with Abigail compare to that of your other bands, such as Chrome Waves and Wolvhammer? It’s definitely a little more laid back with Abigail, as I basically handle everything with those other bands; from all of the writing, to answering every email. I’m happy to help out with this band as much as I can, but Ken is still the captain when it comes to AW. Tell us a little about your influences. Do you have any influences outside of the metal genre, or is it entirely metal? I rarely listen to any newer metal bands at this point; none of it really appeals to my ears. 99% of it lacks creativity or emotion. I basically stick to the same old stuff I’ve been influenced by for years: Nick Cave, The Cure, My Dying Bride, Tiamat, etc. I think any metalhead can tell you about that one record or song that made it all “click”. What got you hooked into the world
of extreme music? I guess I’d probably have to go with like, In The Nightside Eclipse [by Emperor], or Filosofem [by Burzum]. The vibe of those 2 records still blows me away to this day. You’re old enough to have witnessed a relatively recent changeover of the way music is produced and consumed. Some take a more conservative route, decrying a perceived devaluing of creative works at the hands of internet pirates; others take a more welcoming attitude, embracing an unprecedented ability to reach a worldwide fanbase easily and cheaply. Where do you align yourself? Do you fall on either side, or somewhere in the middle?
This is something that I could argue for hours. I’m more on the conservative side. I spend nearly every minute of my day working on band-related activities, so I sort of feel like I deserve to be compensated for the amount of time I’ve put in. There’s a lot of sacrifice that people don’t consider when you’re doing this kind of thing for a living, and it just seems like this newer generation of fans feel they’re entitled to everything for nothing. I remember growing up feeling lucky when a band I loved came to town or put out a new record, now the fans think the band owes them something if they decide to show up at all… It’s sad. See Abigail Williams perform June 4th at LaSalles alongside Panzerfaust (Canada), Lecherous Nocturne (SC), Sorin, Aberrance, and The Convalescence (OH). $10, 8pm.
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9pm-Close $212ozTeas $3 20ozTeas $2 Well, Dom Bottles & bartender Specials $5 Vodka Red Bu II
Happy Hour4- 7pm
Spm-Close $3 Hot Licks $4151 Party Punch 22oz 8-9PM $1 pale ale and dom draft up 25¢ per hour until
Closed
Early Bird Special 9-lOPM l /2off wells
$216oz Wells
$1.50 sliders and other cheap eats!!
FIREBALL FRIDAYS!!!! 8 pm-CLOSE $3 Fireball shots $4 Big Teas $3 Coronas Happy Hour4-8pm so's NIGHT!! 8 pm-CLOSE $4 Sauza Margaritas $3 Ka mis $3 Shocktop & VIP pint
KARAOKE "INDUSTRY NIGHT" 8 PM-CLOSE HALF OFF ALMOST EVERYTHING!(Except Red Bull and Premium Liquors) Specials All Day!
I 530.893.5253
$6.50 Apple Cinnamon Cider
Buck Hour 10:30 -11:30 Happy Hour4-8pm
134 BROADWAY ST
close
LIVE MUSIC Drink Specials
LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
Early Bird Special 9-lOPM l /2offwells
LIVE MUSIC Drink Specials
LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
Early Bird Special 9-lOPM l /2off wells
Call To Rent For Private Party Go Downlo
BURGER MADNESS! Bear Burger with fries or salad for $5.49. llam-!Opm.
Free Happy Hour Food 4PM until it's gone
$3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials
Happy Hour 11-GPM select wells, bottles and pints $2.75
Happy Hour 4-Spm
$4 Sex On The Beach $4 Sierra Nevada Knightro ON TAP $1 Jello Shots 7-lOPM $3 Fireball
$3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials
$4 Wo rld Famous Bloody Joe $5 Premium bloodys your choice of vodka
Happy Hour-4-7pm $5 Fridays 4-Spm Most food items and pitchers of beer a re $5
Power Hour 8-9PM 1/2 off Liquor & Drafts (excludes pitchers) 9PM-Close $3 Pale Ale Drafts $9.75 Pale Pitchers
POWER 102 VIP NIGHT Open at 9PM
Hot "Dawgs" ALL DAY!
Mon-Sat 3PM-6PM $1 Dom draft, $2 SN draft, $2wells Powe r Hour 8-9PM 1/2 off Liquor & Drafts (excludes pitchers) 9-Close Pale Ale Drafts $9.75 Pale Pitch ers
BOTTLE SERVICE Now Available! Call for reservation 898-9898
CLOSED
CLOSED
Happy Hour 4-Spm
Champagne Brunch llam-2pm $3 Champagne w ith entree
BOTTLE SERVICE Now Available! Call for reservation 898-9898
Open at 9PPM
Champagne Brunch and SPORTS!
Champagne Brunch 10am-2pm Every Sunday $3 champagne with purchase of an entree
177 E 2nd St, Chico (530) 895-8817 FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO
13
Food &
Drink Closed
We need to drink, too!
Mon-Fri Happy Hour 12-4PM $3 Sierra & Domestic
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Pints 6PM - close $1 Off Pitchers
Closed
$3 Sierra and Domestic Pints $ 3.50 Ka mis ALL DAY!
Angry Mondays!
$6.50 Pulled pork sand w/
Angry Orchard specials
fries or salad 25 cent wings from halftime 'til they're gone!
$6 angry hot wings Happy Hour2-6pm M-F $1.00 off Sierra and Dom
Pitchers $1.00 off PBR & Olympia Pool Rates Cut in 1/2!
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Two Dollar Tuesdays! $2 PBRs $2 Tacos! Happy Hour2-6pm M-F $1.00 off Sierra and Dom
Pitchers $1.00 off PBR and Olympia Cans Pool Rates Cut in 1/2!
1HUR JUNE 5VS. REDS - 9:35AM
Closed
WING WEDNESDAY! $2 for 3 Wings
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM
Chicken Waffle Wed.! 8 ball Tourney 6pm
Full Bar in Back Room
sign-up
8PM-Close $2.50 Fire Eater Shots $5.50 DBL Bacardi
Weds, Fri & Sat Nights! PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Happy Hour 2-6pm M-F $1.00 off Sierra and Dom Pitchers $1.00 off PBR and Olympia Pool Rates Cut in 1/2!
Cocktails
Come see our beautiful Patio! Happy Hour 4-6: Menu cocktails $1 off.
Sierra Nevada Draft $3
$3 20oz Slushies $212oz Slushies $2 We lls, Drafts and
Bartender Specials
Mon-Fri Happy Hour 12-4PM $3 Sierra & Domestic
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Pints
Pitchers
$5 Vodka Red Bull
$3.50 Soccer moms Open 9PM NO COVER!
pizza's made to order on
$1.00 off PBR and Olympia Pool Rates Cut in 1/2!
$6 Dbl Roaring Vodka
Bartender Specials
Mon-Fri
$314oz Slushies $4 20oz Slushies
Happy Hour 12-4PM $3 Sierra & Domestic
Pints
the patio, all night! Happy Hour from 4-6.
Chico Jazz Collective 8- midnight Happy Hour2-6pm M-F $1.00 off Sierra & Dom
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM
Full Bar in Back Room Weds, Fri & Sat Nights! PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Weekend Blast Off!! 8-close $5 Blasters
Rock Out atThe DL!
Enjoy Live Music, Great Grub, and 10 9' foottables Open@llam All ages untill lOpm
MONSTER MONDAY SPECIALS 6PM-CLOSE BEER $3/4/5/6 $1 SHOTS FREE Pool after lOPM
Chicken Strip Sand only $6.50 before 6 PM DOLLAR DAZE 6-9pm $1 Beer $1 We lls $2 Doubles FREE Pool after lOPM
Reuben Sand
w/ fries or
salad $6.50 5pm-Close 1/2 off kids
items Spm-Close Pitcher Specials $6/$9/$12 FREE Pool after lOPM
Baby Back Ribs $10.99 Philly Cheesesteak $7.50 6pm-Close $4 Grad teas $3 All beer pints FREE Pool after lOPM
10 oz. Tri-Tip Steak w/ Fries or Salad & Garlic Bread $8.99 8pm-Close $4 Jager $5 DBL Vodka Red Bull $6 Jager Red Bull
$2 Kamikaze shots FREE Pool after lOPM
Bartender Specials
We open at 12:00pm. Kentucky Bucks are $5
$314oz Slushies $4 20oz Slushies
untilSpm! Food TnuckSaturday Night
Annie's Asian Grill on the
Open at llAM $4.50 Bloody Mary $5.50 Absolut Pep par Bloody Marys Noon- 6PM $8 / $9 SN Dom Pitchers $5.50 DBL Bacardi
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM
Full Bar in Back Room Weds, Fri & Sat Nights! PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Rock Out atThe DL!
Enjoy Live Music, Great Grub, and 10 9' foot tables Open@llam All ages untill lOpm
Cocktails WE OPEN AT 12:00PM MIMOSAS WITH FRESH
lOAM -2PM $5 Bottles of Champagne with entree $4.50 Bloody Mary $5.50 Absolut Pep par Bloody Marys
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM
JUNE 2 2014
Baby Back Ribs w/Sa lad , Fries & garlic bread $10.99 8pm-Close $4 Single/$6 Double
Jack or Captain $2 Sierra Nevada FREE Pool after lOPM
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7PM PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Super Bowl Sunday:
Bronco Burgers and Sea
$5.19 Grad/Garden/ Turkey Burger w/fries
Chicken Tuna melts $8
or salad
1.00 off Sierra and Dom Pitchers
Bloodies $3 Well, $4 Ca II, $5 Top, $6 Goose Mimosas $2/flute, $5/pint $6 Beer Pitchers
$1.00 off PBR and Olympia Cans
This Week Only...
BEST BETS IN ENTERTAINMENT
Wednesday, June 4th
Friday, June 6th
LA SALLES
1078 GALLERY
Recent recipients of the Most Handsome Chico Metal Band Award, these gorgeous dudes will reach for the heights of technical metal ecstacy, and probably not quite reach them. Also featuring the greatest band Paradise has ever given birth to, the Gods known as Aberrance. Some other bands are playing too. $10, 8pm.
West By Swan has been one of Chico’s heavyweights of quality experimental rock for hella years. They bring a raw melodicism reminiscent of The Pixies, and they have that completely adorable man Daniel Taylor playing drums for them. Win. Also featuring Shadowlimb (ex La Fin), Sisterhoods, and Melvin’s Painting. $5, 8pm.
Friday, June 6th
Saturday, June 7th
SORIN & SOME OTHER BANDS
WEST BY SWAN CD RELEASE
BITCHES BE ROCKIN
CHICO BIKE MUSIC FESTIVAL
Three female-fronted bands, one very sexy night of very sexy rock. Furlough Fridays sounds a little bit like Avril Lavigne, if she was a human being, and wasn’t shit-spawn. Dr. Luna’s singer is awesome in a Black Sabbath kind of way, and Lisa Valentine is what the blues would be like in heaven. Show starts at 9pm and costs $5.
Okay, it starts at Camellia Way Park and I know you have no idea what that is so I’m here to help. It’s that stretch of grass and Valley Oaks with the creek running beside it, across the street from Morning Thunder Cafe. The Festival starts there at noon, and will continue at Silver Dollar Fair Grounds at 4pm. Erin Wolverton will sing as y’all bike out to the Fairgrounds. This party is free. Let’s ride.
LA SALLES
229 BROADWAY ST, CHICO, CA
THE GREATEST TOWN ON EARTH
Other new and exciting things!
4 Wednesday
Chico Peace & Justice Center: Documentary Screening “We The Tiny House People” 7pm LaSalles: Abigail Williams, Panzerfaust (Canada), Lecherous Nocturne (SC), Sorin, Aberrance, The Convalescence (OH). $10, 8pm Sierra Nevada Big Room: KZFR’s 5th Annual Celebration Of The Song Showcase. $12, 6pm
5 Thursday
LaSalles: Happy Hour with the Retrotones. 4-8pm Lost On Main: ZuhG, City Of Trees Brass Band, Jesi Naomi.
6 Friday
1078 Gallery: West By Swan CD Release Party, ft. Shadowlimb, Sisterhoods, Melvin’s Painting. $5, 8pm Cafe Coda: Ha’ Penny Bridge, Molly’s Favourite. 8pm Chico City Plaza: The Amy Celeste Band. 7-8:30pm Chicoichi: Christine LaPado-Breglia Trio plays on the patio. 6:308:30pm Chico Womens Club: Bahapki, Lisa Valentine. $8, 7pm Maltese: Heather Michelle & The Make You Mines CD Release Show,
EAT. DRINK. PLAY. 229 BROADWAY ST, CHICO, CA 14
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
Find Out How you Can Play Pool for Only $1/Day!
ft. Bran Crown and Black Fong. $5, 9pm LaSalles: Bitches Be Rockin! Dr. Luna, Furlough Friday, Lisa Valentine & The Unloveables. $5, 9pm Lost On Main: Chuck Epperson, Allie Battaglia.
7 Saturday
1078 Gallery: Guitar Project with Warren Haskell & Friends, Brian Cross. $10 General, $5 Students, 7:30pm Camellia Way Park: Chico Bicycle Music Festival. 12pm Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid Opening Night. $20 Adults, $12 Children, 7:30pm
Maltese: To Be Or Not To Be Burlesque Show. $5, 9pm Silver Dollar Fair Grounds: Chico Bicycle Music Festival. 4pm
8 Sunday
100th Monkey: Burn Burn Burn!, Meth Sores, Mutant Cross. 8pm 1078 Gallery: Dead Again, Matahari, Icko Sicko, Astronaut. $5, 8pm Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid. $20 Adults, $12 Children, 2pm Wine Time: Walk To End Alzheimer’s fundraiser. Ft. Los Caballitos de la Cancion. $20, 3-6pm
LESSONS, LEAGUES AND TOURNAMENTS! GREAT FOOD! LIVE MUSIC! 319 Main Street (530) 892-2473
Ongoing Events 2 Monday
The Bear: Bear-E-oke! 9pm Cafe Coda: 1st Monday Jazz. $10, 7-8:30pm Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Chico Womens Club: Prenatal Yoga. 5:30-6:30pm DownLo: Pool League. 3 player teams, signup with bartender. 7pm. All ages until 10pm Maltese: Open Mic Comedy or Music, alternates every week. Signups at 8pm, starts at 9pm. Mug Night 7-11:30pm The Tackle Box: Latin Dance Classes. Free, 7-9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Yoga Center Of Chico: Sound Healing w. Emiliano. Breathwork, Meditation, Healing.
3 Tuesday
100th Monkey: Fusion Belly Dance mixed-level class, with BellySutra. $8/class or $32/month. 6pm Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Chico Women’s Club: Yoga. 9-10am. Afro Carribean Dance. $10/class or $35/mo. 5:50-7pm. Followed by Capoeira, $3-$10. 7:30-8:30pm Crazy Horse Saloon: All Request Karaoke. 21+ DownLo: Game night. All ages until 10pm Farm Star Pizza: Live Jazz with Shigemi and Friends. 7-9pm Holiday Inn Bar: Salsa Lessons, 7-10pm LaSalles: ’90s night. 21+ Maltese: Karaoke. 9pm-Close Studio Inn Lounge: Karaoke. 8:30pm-1am The Tackle Box: Karaoke, 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Woodstocks: Trivia Challenge. Call
at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts 6:30pm
4 Wednesday
The Bear: Trike Races. Post time 10pm Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Chico Women’s Club: Afro Brazilian Dance. 5:30-7pm DownLo: Wednesday night jazz. 8 Ball Tournament, signups 6pm, starts 7pm Duffys: Dance Night! DJ Spenny and Jeff Howse. $1, 9pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Jesus Center: Derelict Voice Writing Group, everyone welcome. 9-10:30am Panamas: Bar Swag Bingo/Trivia Night. 9-11pm The Maltese: Friends With Vinyl! Bring your vinyl and share up to 3 songs/12 minutes on the turntable. 9pm-1am The Tackle Box: Line Dance classes. Free, 5:30-7:30pm. Swing Dance classes. Free, 7:30-9:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm VIP Ultra Lounge: Laurie Dana. 7-9pm Woodstocks: Trivia Night plus Happy Hour. call at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts at 8pm
5 Thursday
The Beach: DJ Mack Morris. 10:30pm The Bear: DJ Dancing. Free, 9pm Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm DownLo: Chico Jazz Collective. 8-11pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Has Beans: Open Mic Night. 7-10pm. Signups start at 6pm
LIFE IN CHICO
Holiday Inn Bar: Karaoke. 8pm-midnight LaSalles: Free live music on the patio. 6-9pm Maltese: Karaoke. 9pm-close Panamas: Buck night and DJ Eclectic & guests on the patio. 9pm Quackers: Karaoke night with Andy. 9pm-1am University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm VIP Ultra Lounge: Acoustic performance with Bradley Relf. 7-9pm. No Cover. Woodstocks: Open Mic Night Yoga Center Of Chico: Ecstatic Dance with Clay Olson. 7:309:30pm
6 Friday
100th Monkey: Acoustic Music Singer Songwriter Showcase. 7:30pm The Beach: DJ2k & Mack Morris. 9pm The Bear: DJ Dancing. Free, 9pm Cafe Coda: Friday Morning Jazz with Bogg. 11am Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Crazy Horse Saloon: Fusion Fridays, the best country, rock, oldies, 80s & top 40. Country dance lessons 9-10:30pm DownLo: ½ off pool. All ages until 10pm. Live Music, 8pm Duffys: Pub Scouts - Happy Hour. 4-7pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Holiday Inn Bar: DJ Dance Party. 8pm-midnight LaSalles: Open Mic night on the patio. 6-9pm Maltese: Happy hour with live jazz by Bogg. 5-7pm. LGBTQ+ Dance Party. 9pm Panamas: Jigga Julee, DJ Mah on the patio. 9pm Peeking: BassMint. Weekly
electronic dance party. $3. 9:30pm Quackers: Live DJ. 9pm Sultan’s Bistro: Bellydance Performance. 6:30-7:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm
7 Saturday
The Beach: DJ Mah. 9pm The Bear: DJ Dancing. No Cover. 9pm Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Crazy Horse Saloon: Ladies Night Dancing. 10pm-1:30am DownLo: 9 Ball tournament. Signups at noon, starts at 1pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Holiday Inn Bar: DJ Dancing. 70s and 80s music. The Molly Gunn’s Revival! 8pm-midnight LaSalles: 80’s Night. 8pm-close Maltese: Burlesque with The MalTEAZers! 9pm Panamas: DJ Eclectic on the patio. 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Yoga Center Of Chico: Mind Power Workshop w. Gayle Kimball, Ph.D. 1-4pm
SICILIAN CAFÉ Visiting the Thursday Night Market? Stop by for our Farmer’s Market Special!
8 Sunday
Chico Art Center: “Contemporary Woman” Juried Art Show. 10am4pm Dorothy Johnson Center: Soul Shake Dance Church. Free-style dance wave, $8-$15 sliding scale. 10am-12:30pm DownLo: Free Pool, 1 hour with every $8 purchase. All ages until 10pm LaSalles: Karaoke. 9pm Maltese: Live Jazz 4-7pm. Trivia 8pm Tackle Box: Karaoke, 8pm
Do you like Life in Chico? So do we! “Like” Life in Chico, CA
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On The Town 16
PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
by logan kruidenier - logankruidenier.tumblr.com
On Un-Parenthood WE ARE LEGION. WE DO NOT CONCEIVE.
Okay, so I’ll just put it out there: I don’t have kids, and I never will. By choice. If you think there aren’t any taboos left in our society, try making that declaration at the next barbecue you go to. Especially if you have boobs. At the stage of life I’m in, a new acquaintance will rush to ask the “So, you got kids?” question faster and with about as much subtlety as a frat boy slipping it to a hot new hookup. When I smile and answer “No,” women especially will pause and look at the ground mournfully; I figure they’re thinking I’m infertile, or that I’ve lost a child to illness or an accident. I’ve learned to let that silence spin out for a beat, then change the subject. Perhaps leaving the assumption dangling is a bit deceitful, but believe me, it’s better if they think it’s a painful topic; these same sympathy-oozing types will treat you like a fire-shitting leper if you honestly disclose that you deliberately opted out of reproducing. Once in a great while, some plain-spoken type will demand to know WHY I went down that road. It cracks me up that this life choice has to be defended—as if it’s some astounding, harmful way to be. Nobody bats an eyelash when a couple has a baseball team’s worth of kids, or when they drop a few hundred thousand dollars on IVF rather than adopting. Really? Your DNA is that super-mega-turbo special? Wow. Tell me again how “selfish” I am. (This, in case you didn’t already know, is the stock response of certain types of babyrabid parents to those who choose to not have kids. Whether or not that’s actually the case is irrelevant—logic doesn’t feature too strongly with such individuals.)
Let’s turn the tables here and demand to know why people feel such a bone-searing need to bring an open-ended number of additional hungry mouths into this terminally effed-up world. The most popular responses I’ve heard or read over the years are: Because I want to carry on the family name. Because I want someone who will love me unconditionally. Because then s/he (the other DNA donor) will stay with me forever. Because I WANT A BABY and I’ll have as many as I #&*@ing want!!1! So yeah. No “selfishness” there. Just people like me. Got it. My empathy for such egregious thinking degrades even further after a day of competing against 300 other applicants for a single job, or getting through rush hour traffic. That’s right, all those assholes out there were precious, saintly babies once… just like the ones Proud Parents are spewing out like gumball machines today. And aren’t they doing such a great service to humanity! Y’know, that species that’s pushing 8 billion in number and not getting any saner or happier in the process. Don’t get me started about women who consider non-mothers inferior beings, either. That might be fodder for another article…
Consider the Platypus by Mona Treme
PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
On The Town
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 17
“friendship”
lots of “friendship”
cont. from pg. 9 I can vaguely recall the look of the audience, which includes maybe 40 spandex-clad prepubescent members of the local HYPE dance team, who are performing next, as they laugh at me in unison. The best joke that Hilby hits me with—from atop a unicycle nonetheless—is “vits because of people like you vat shampoo bottles need instructions.” Back on the midway, an obese, wheelchair-bound man with swollen legs has a monkey on a leash. The monkey takes money out of kids’ hands. The monkey is wearing a pink tutu and polka-dotted blouse. The monkey is insanely cute. The monkey stands eighteen inches high, tops. The monkey is making more hourly money than I’ve ever made in my life.
hunger games Out at the food booths, it’s appetite-suppressingly hot. But people are pushing past that, eating six-dollar slices of pizza and troughs of curly fries and eggrolls-on-a-stick and chocolate covered bacon and cotton candy and elephant ears and deep fried candy bars and hot dogs (both on and off sticks) and they’re glistening and licking their fingers and dabbing at ketchup stains on their shirts.
18
suggestively. A carnal hedonism pervades the food and ride zones. Little kids are dressing up like animals and walking imaginary tight ropes and jumping through hoops at the awesome Circus Imagination tent, receiving oohs and ahs and thunderous rounds of parental applause. Then they’re high on snow cone juice, centrifugally blurred in Tea Cups and staggering through Fun Houses and sliding and flying and their squishy faces are beatific and wonderful and their parents’ and grandparents’ faces are wonderful too, all vicarious joy. Some of the little kid rides say “Michael Jackson” at the entrance. And they have “Neverland Ranch” signage. A Carny tells me that many of the kids’ rides were bought right out of MJ’s backyard. Neverland Ranch seems like sort of a discredited brand when it comes to kids’ stuff, but whatever.
you animals
A Fair employee wheeling a trash bin tells me that they remove two 40-yard truckloads a day from the food area alone.
The pace and crush and orgiastic splendor dissipates in the animal barns. Well-built tow-headed 4-H and FAA youth wash and brush and tend to their livestock. These farm youth are sweet, beyond well-mannered, models of rural perfection. These are the sorts of kids who will never need SSRIs or the gym or literature.
The crowd is getting thicker now, more deeply entranced. The aromas are dry grass, fried food, mammalian flesh, axle grease. People are waddling on big legs and weaving doublewide strollers through human traffic, maneuvering on Personal Mobility Scooters, and the smart ones are twirling parasols. Cleavage and muscles are on gratuitous display. Especially cleavage, which is more Frederick’s of Hollywood than Victoria’s Secret. Young men ride the mechanical bull
Pigs are disgusting smelling, acrid and fecal and just horrible. The girl watching over them says she can’t even smell it, doesn’t mind it. One Neapolitan-colored pig weighs 650 pounds and when its massive pink tongue lulls sensuously out of its snout to lap water it makes me feel kind of sick. But the suckling, rambunctious piglets are fantastic little Wilburs each of them. Town folk are marveling at their cuteness and relaying, invariably, their unitary Pig Fact: did you know that
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 2 2014
pigs are smarter than dogs? Satanic-eyed goats bleat; cows moolessly chew cud (“cud”, by the way, isn’t just some cow snack you’ve never heard of, it’s a word designating food that has been puked up from the first stomach back into the mouth for further chewing), rabbits sit there looking fluffy, and a Sheep Presenting Competition is underway. Stern-faced wholesome boys in special outfits are holding their shorn sheep in different positions and people are judging their presentation with professional seriousness. It’s the sort of thing that makes absolutely no fucking sense if you’re town folk.
carny asada Back out in the throngs and the solar heat lamp. A guy with a large Lakers tattoo on the side of his shaved head. “In Loving Memory” shirt, “Proud Juggalo” shirt, evermore cleavage, cut-offs; a blond kid and an emo kid—both with zero defensive skills—punching each other in the face until they’re detained by the police; handholding as a public act. The teenagers are getting ever more numerous, daring. I talk in my shitty Spanish to 39-year-old Edgar, the Carny running the Throw the Ball in the Bucket and Watch Helplessly as it Flies Back Out Game. He’s not a Carny in the traditional uni-toothed mold. Apparently,
Carnies these days are increasingly Mexican seasonal workers with Visas and some sort of access to dentistry. He’s from Mexico City, he tells me, as are many of his co-workers. But almost all the guys running the rides are from the same town in Veracruz, Mexico (which a few of them confirmed for me). These seasonal workers travel with their Carnival (Butler Amusements, Inc) for months on end, working long hours, living in bunkhouse trailers, rarely leaving the fairgrounds and making waaay less than the tutu-wearing monkey. Then they go back to Mexico for the winters, where carnival money is the lifeblood of their town. “Hey Romeo, she wants one my fren,” Edgar says to a passing adult couple, pointing to a stuffed animal no sane person over the age of ten could possibly want. “All you gotta do is get eet in the bucket.” They decline, but a pair of teenaged girls decides to give it a try. I ask them what they put their odds of winning at.
come back next time!
“About five in a million,” one says. Edgar effortlessly throws ball after ball into the bucket with a spinning, underhand toss, making it look possible. After the girls’ balls bounce out, Edgar gives them a pity gift, and they stumble off laughing and yelling, “It’s all rigged!”
dusted I enter the Grandstand. The Sprint Cars are warming up. I meet an aspiring Sprint Car racer and his Dad. The dad used to race Sprint Cars back in the day. So did the Dad’s Dad, before he passed. Sprint Cars are fucking nuts. They have these pool table-sized wings on top of them and the right rear wheel is bigger than the left and they go crazyridiculous fast and run on methanol that smells like it’s getting you high and they’re end-of-the-world-loud and pelt the lower two-thirds of the Grandstand in clumps of hard dark earth every time they slide around a turn. The young aspiring racer tells me that, sometimes, when the track moisture is just right, the cars can kick up cantaloupe-sized chunks of hardened dirt. He’s heard of people getting knocked cold. A few times a night a Sprint Car goes rolling and crumpling off the track. Then a waiting ambulance casually drives its mangled man slowly out along the midway, blinking and flashing and generally fitting right in. This is just part of the process. When we all stand up and remove our hats and the announcer starts talking about “our heroes fighting for our freedom to enjoy this Spring Car racing on a Sunday” and then the National Anthem starts, as usual I feel alienated. Antiwar-liberal-ironic-thoughts are clawing around in me like cats in a bag. But I feel something else, too. The song—the National Anthem—it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Back out in the teeming otherworldly masses. Some friends/family have joined me now; I’m no longer (perceived as) Weird-Lonely-Writing-Stuff-Down-Guy. The ground increasingly slurry with bright, snow-cone-colored puke and tobacco juice-spit and spilled beer. The oppressive heat is lifting, but it’s being replaced by racetrack dust, which glows in the magic hour light and hangs like
an evil miasma over everything, coating everyone, everywhere. It’s like Beijing, particulate matter-wise. The rides’ multicolored lights are starting to stand out against the pinkening-sky, and it all looks kaleidoscopic and wonderful. ‘80s Hair Metal Band “Quiet Riot” are on the Blue Moon Stage. The 50-year-old rockers’ style is very Hot Topic—all black and skull patches. Their hair is Just For Men Gothic Black and it hangs Slashishly in front of their faces. There’s fog, there’s lights. The singer is clenching his fist, repeating “Love’s a bitch/ Yeah it’s crazy” like a thousand times, before breaking it down, “It’s a bi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yitch! Yeah!” I see what appear to be actual groupies in the front rows. The crowd is rockin’ out, having a blast, doing that devil horns things with their hands, but still sitting in their foldout chairs, giving their backs a rest. It’s time to go on some rides. In line for the Ring of Fire, a vertical loop track where riders are suspended upside down. My friend and I are seated opposite a couple. We are harnessed in by in-no-way-confidence-inspiring mechanisms—trusting our lives to people we don’t trust. We launch. The G-forces build and build till we’re delirious, screaming, laughing, crying—the girl across from me is literally crying with fun. The upside down world, the still timeless town, the blinking electric heavens, letting our arms hang up, letting go, murmuring plaintively to God. It’s just a ride, I know. But. The crying stranger and I high-ten, and for the briefest moment we lock fingers and I look into her crying eyes and if it’s not something like a brief feeling of oneness or communing or not-aloneness or something, then it’s probably— No, that’s what it is. My insides are not cut out for this shit.
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Diego’s Umbrella
Eclectic Dance Band Returns to the Big Room SIERRA NEVADA BIG ROOM - TOMORROW, TUESDAY, AT 7:30PM BY JAIME O’NEILL
Diego’s Umbrella is a six-piece ensemble of young musicians who play what’s been called “gypsy rock.” Even only a sampling of the stuff they’ve got up on YouTube reveals musical traditions seldom expected from rock-based outfits. There are hints of Klezmer, and flamenco, and the Ramones, and polka, all blended into a musical smoothie that nourishes the spirit and can even take off calories, if you’re among those who can’t resist the dance beat these guys lay down.
an hour.”
Until a few weeks ago, what I didn’t know about Diego’s Umbrella was a lot. They played the Big Room before, highly touted by Bob Littell, the room’s impresario, but I couldn’t make it to that show. I was later told I’d really blown it by not turning up. My younger daughter has seen the band play a couple of times, and she’s a stone cold fan.
And what sets Diego’s Umbrella apart from other bands?
So, because I’ve never seen a bad show at the Big Room, and because the music editor here at Synthesis was interested in a preview piece on the band’s upcoming appearance there on Tuesday, June 3, I figured I’d replace what I didn’t know with what I could learn through a brief phone interview with Benjamin Leon, one of the band’s two guitarists. I began by commiserating with him about the rigors of the road, quoting B.B. King, who once said, “They pay me to travel, and I play for free.”
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“Truer words were never spoken,” Ben said. “The time we’re not on stage is what they pay us for. If you take in the other hours required to get to the gigs, it works out to about $1.75
So why, I wondered, would anyone log all those hours on the road, in a cramped van? “You do it because you love it,” Ben told me, with passion and humor in his voice. “Once you’ve gone with the music, once you get the bug, especially if you get the bug when you’re young, it’s pretty much impossible to replace that feeling in any other way.”
“We like to let the music explain itself,” he answered. “It started with California/Mexican music, and it’s ended up being this bizarre hybrid. It’s got lots of Balkan flavors now, much of that brought in after the band toured Eastern Europe. Jason Kleinberg, our amazing violinist, is mostly responsible for adding that sound, but we still have a hefty dose of American music and rock. Whatever else is in it, it invariably comes out as filtered through a bunch of American kids who grew up in California. Our goal is to get people up and dancing, And we do. We love the Big Room because the sound and the audience are really great.” I won’t be missing Diego’s Umbrella this time. You won’t want to miss them, either. They’re an eclectic good time party band, and the fans at the Big Room are sure to be working themselves up into a sweat after the band takes the stage.
A Little Reassurance About Our Future From David Little In a recent op-ed column, Chico Enterprise-Record editor, David Little, made the definitive case against the idea that man-made climate change is something we need to worry about. In that piece, he began by bragging on how age and experience as a journalist had transformed him into being a pretty skeptical customer, an “old journalist” who was nobody’s fool when it comes to things like global warming. He’d learned his lesson way back in the ‘70s, before age and journalism made him the savvy customer he is now, unwilling to accept other people’s notions of things unless those notions conform with what he wants to believe, anyway. He knows better now because back when he was a kid, some people were touting the prospect of a “mini Ice Age,” a threat that freaked him out entirely as he envisioned a future of ice and snow ruining his summers. Because those warnings from a handful of scientists failed to materialize, David learned a great lesson. Now, as the signs of manmade climate change are everywhere, and as 97% of the world’s scientists have offered a library full of compelling evidence that we’re in perilously dire straits, David Little just ain’t buyin’ any of it. As one of his political heroes once said: “There’s an old saying in Tennessee—I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee—that says, fool me once, shame on—shame on you. Fool me—you can’t get fooled again.” David Little isn’t about to be fooled again, and he’s got his own counter evidence to bring to the party. On the day Governor Jerry Brown issued a warning about climate change, Editor Little found that California had recorded the highest and the lowest temperatures in the lower 48 states. This prompted him to ask a spectacularly irrelevant rhetorical question. “Are those extremes in such proximity a product of climate change?” he wondered, “or just climate?” Take that, world scientific community, and score one for Mr. Little, and the legion of climate-change deniers who wrote in on the Enterprise-Record website to congratulate him on his courage in speaking out against
Fool me—you can’t get fooled again this conspiracy of dumb-ass scientists who are, quite obviously, working to bring down the world’s economic engines and impose the dream of cleaner technology on our unsuspecting grandchildren. David Little had gone where few other old journalists dare to go, lending column inches to the Koch brothers and other liberty lovers who only have our best interests at heart, pushing back against pesky scientists who don’t know jack shit about science. So chill the fuck out, people; there are no consequences to pumping billions and billions of tons of hydrocarbon pollution into the atmosphere in ways that are utterly unprecedented. Nope. Nothing to see here, folks. Just liberals getting all hoax-y on your ass cuz they enjoy freaking you out. That’s mostly what scientists do, anyway. Remember that gravity nonsense they tried to run by us a few centuries ago? Or that ungodly evolution crap? Libtards. Man, they never run out of their bullshit, do they?
Old Crock
by Jaime O'Neill jaimeandkarenoneill@gmail.com
PHOTOS BY JESSICA SID
On The Town
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 21
JUNE 2, 2014 BY KOZ MCKEV
Aries
Taurus
Gemini
Cancer
Leo
Virgo
Building and growing are some of the things happening this week. Memories and appetites will be enhanced. Motivation to keep partnerships moving is at an all time high. Another focus is communication issues. Being clear and honest doesn’t work for everyone. They don’t realize that lies often make things worse. Be more open to enjoying your family and your home. Accept that no one is the hero when it comes to ego defeat. Relationship issues are likely to be highlighted this weekend. Proceed with caution.
Venus in your first house helps the love vibe to come on strong. Wednesday through Friday the love vibe is extra strong for you. Financial concerns are huge during this period. Do what you can to improve your work environment. You may just find yourself enjoying what you’re doing. Some romantic plans may need to be delayed. You need the kind of friends who will enhance the healing vibe in your life. The weekend looks good for organizational projects, working on your health or for helping a charitable cause.
What you begin now may take until late July to fulfill. Things begin to go a little wacky this Saturday when Mercury goes retrograde. It’s time to focus on that which is directly in front of you. Be patient and remain happy. Things will eventually be going your way. The weekend looks good for being a leader, an innovator, a parent, or an entertainer. Events that are unexpected need not put a damper on your good mood. Stay generous and you will be blessed. Perceive yourself as capable and the rest will follow.
The unknown is forever with us. We may feel fearful as if there was a damper on our intuition. Be grateful for all your thoughts be they negative or positive. Stop judging yourself and allow these things to roll past you. Be patient when things get put on the back burner. The focus is on finances and the environment this week. Find a way to surround yourself with good news. The weekend looks good for sticking close to home and working on family and domestic issues. Help others who are isolated and you’ll be making good karma.
The future is in part your responsibility. It takes planning, and it also takes a council of wise elders and young visionaries. Monday and Tuesday feature a bold Leo moon. It might be time for an impromptu party or a spontaneous meeting of sorts. Strike while the iron is hot and get it done while you can. Be in the company of good friends. The weekend looks good for a short trip, a hike in the countryside, or a dip in your favorite swimming hole. Intelligent conversations rule. It’s time to think and to be smarter. Working smart is better than working hard.
It’s up to you. Important work is on your shoulders. Resist all attacks on the self. Now is the time to be useful. You’re foolish enough to think you can make a difference. Go the extra mile and initiate positive change. Go the extra mile to be kind to yourself and others. The moon will be in Virgo Wednesday morning till late on Friday. Being loving is the best service you can give to someone including yourself. Be open to making more friends and don’t let looks fool you. You could be on your way to something big.
Libra
Scorpio
Saggitarius
Capricorn
Aquarius
Pisces
You are on your way to being stronger. Don’t be surprised if you need to deal with some sort of conflict this week. Seek solutions and keep a cool head. Mars is moving direct in your first house and will be opposing Uranus in the next several weeks. Surprises are likely. Use caution and confidence at the same time. The weekend is likely to be nice with the moon in Libra. Your sense of energy and direction is in a first place position. Know the past without being a slave to it. Take some calculated risks. Go where you have never been before.
Prayer and meditation are your best friends during this period. Help those who are in difficult situations. Allow yourself to enjoy help from others. Be sensitive to the needs of your siblings and neighbors. Enjoy your mystical and metaphysical side. Fantasy is just another word for a separate reality. Your reality is different from other people’s reality. Somehow you’ll end up sharing some kind of love this week. Wednesday and Thursday are your best days for socializing and hanging out with friends.
You are socially directed. You are about to break away from considerable introspection. You begin to get along better with the people you work with. Start the week with a sense of gratitude for the new situations that you get into. Don’t judge anything the verdict isn’t out yet. Romance is more likely as Gemini is your partnership sign. Being honest yet sensitive to others is the name of the game. Monday and Tuesday are your power days. Show leadership and public concern on Thursday. The weekend looks good for parties and socializing.
Every day your limitations are further behind you. For now, it’s good to accept what’s yours and be OK with other people’s power. None of us are completely independent. All of us are somewhat interdependent. Love requires that you be vulnerable, making room for others is the name of the game. Wednesday through Friday be open to having a stroke of luck. The weekend requires you to be in the public eye doing the thing that makes you most useful. Seek good counsel and prosper in all your endeavors.
You’re ready to move with dignity and confidence. Your coyote/hyena side is about to be let loose. Sometimes having fun is just too easy. When it’s all for a good laugh it’s hard to imagine anyone getting hurt. The beginning of the week is romantic. The end of the week looks like an adventure and a good time. Take a chance. Go the higher road. Remain generous even during a crisis. Get curious about all things different and initiate your own investigation. Be aware of different languages and cultural practices.
Help your parents if they are still alive. Elders depend on youth to give them a holistic perspective. Jupiter in your fifth house continues to expand your creative abilities. Part of you would like to be an ostrich and keep your head in the sand. You may be even more of a homebody these days. Wednesday through Friday are good for negotiations and romance. Use poetry, art, song and other forms of communication to express special feelings. The weekend is good for paying debts as well as collecting that which is owed you.
Koz McKev is on YouTube, on cable 11 BCTV and is heard on 90.1FM KZFR Chico. Also available by appointment for personal horoscopes call (530)891-5147 or e-mail kozmickev@sunset.net
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