Gizmodo clued me in to the existence of the Swash, a kind of home-dry-cleaning device. It's a very tall, very thin chamber that freshens up your clothing, one piece at a time. It will apparently cost $500, but the catch is that you'll need special dry-cleaning "pods" made by Tide to operate it, and they haven't announced the price of those pods yet, which leads me to believe it might be a Keurig-style rip-off. AND! As Gizmodo's Andrew Liszewski explains, "the Swash doesn't even actually clean your clothes either; it just makes them smell nicer between washes, and removes minor wrinkles if you need to dress to impress." Here's a video:
(Neumos) Those who follow Seattle’s rap scene must at some point reckon with the Moor Gang. This foul-tempered, potty-mouthed crew represent the yang to Macklemore’s yin: proudly ignorant yet whip-smart, with a propensity for grandiose shit talk and beats like Gothic cathedrals, huge and gorgeous and vaguely terrifying. Avatar Darko, along with Nacho Picasso, represents the Moor Gang aesthetic at its most distilled and visceral. This kid isn’t shy about calling your girlfriend a ho, bragging about his Kalashnikov rifle (Darko's Russian-born), or showing off his gnarly grill in videos. And herein lies the rub. Can we respect the dude's hustle and flow while also condemning his casual misogyny and id-stroking persona? Can we ask for greater lyrical depth from a guy who is clearly capable of it, yet remains content to rap about girls sucking him off like vampires? These are some questions to grapple with; for now, sip lean, smoke a bean, and rock to this, 'cause it bangs. KYLE FLECK
See event info »
With remixing credits involving the likes of house-music royalty like Green Velvet and Booka Shade, Stockholm/Washington, DC, duo Pleasurekraft have vaulted into a lofty stratum of dance-music culture in the span of only a few years. Their own productions possess a slap-happy-go-lucky, quirky funkiness that recalls some of the fantastic roster of Germany's Perlon label. Expect a lot of ridiculously loose-limbed moves on the floor at Q tonight. With Studio 4/4 resident Sean Majors and Harvard Bass. Q Nightclub, 10 pm, $10, 21+. DAVE SEGAL
Check out the rest of Data Breaker here »
The "bar" has been set by this Guinness World Record holder! See if you can guess how old this incredible woman is. Then click the photo to see her real age.
"Trigger Warning: Breakfast" is a piece by an anonymous cartoonist. The description of the cartoon, as written by the artist: "The morning after I was raped, I thought I could create another story." It's incredibly powerful stuff.
Last month, New York Times writer Maureen Dowd traveled to Colorado to investigate the state's new commerce in legal marijuana for recreational use. She wound up lying paralyzed in a hotel bed while locked in a psychological staring contest with the grim reaper (or at least someone in a very convincing grim reaper costume). The cause of Dowd's morbid paralysis: just a few nibbles of a marijuana-enhanced candy bar she'd gotten at a Denver dispensary, the surprising strength of which led to widespread discussion of the dangers of ingesting pot.
These dangers are real. Yes, Maureen Dowd could've done more to investigate proper dosage, and yes, the clerks who supplied her with the multi-dose candy bar could've done much, much more to adequately serve the needs of their customer. (I’m not talking about anything huge, just a pot-store equivalent of a food server saying, “Hot plate.” It’s in a business’s best interest to send customers away happy, not psychotic and burnt, and hopefully marijuana capitalists will implement industry-wide standards ASAP.)
But until the day comes when marijuana sellers take proper responsibility for the experiences of their customers, and/or personal marijuana dosages are as ingrained as those of coffee and alcohol, how to enjoyably experience edible pot is something all users must figure out for themselves. Here are some tips...
Remember Todd Akin? Remember his weak apology for his comments on abortion and "legitimate rape," and how "the female body has ways to try to shut [conception] down?" Here's a refresher:
Well, Akin has a new book out, and Politico's Anna Palmer and Tarini Parti read it so you don't have to. In the book, Akin retracts his apology and doubles down on his comments about rape:
Akin systematically defends every phrase in his response to whether abortion in the case of rape should be legal. “Taking my comments in order: When a woman claims to have been raped, the police determine if the evidence supports the legal definition of ‘rape.’ Is it a legitimate claim of rape or an excuse to avoid an unwanted pregnancy?”
“My comment about a woman’s body shutting the pregnancy down was directed to the impact of stress on fertilization. This is something fertility doctors debate and discuss. Doubt me? Google ‘stress and infertility,’ and you will find a library of research on the subject.” ...Akin later says during his time as a state legislator, he wished he could have done more to “end this evil,” referring to abortion, which in his view “easily trumps slavery as the greatest moral evil in American history.”
The Republican Party abandoned Akin in 2012 when he made those comments, and the timing of this book must signal at least a little bit of payback on Akin's part: Republicans don't want to remind voters about their War on Women with a midterm election coming up. Akin's book is going to make it very hard for Republican candidates to avoid questions about rape, abortion, and contraception in the weeks ahead.
In the opening of my review of the documentary The Internet's Own Boy, which is about the life and tragic death of Aaron Swartz, I wrote:
In 2013, Aaron Swartz, a young computer genius, committed suicide because President Obama failed to keep the promises that brought him to power. This is not a stretch. And Swartz is just some of the blood on the hands of our country's first black president. Obama promised us change, but instead the policies of his predecessors remained unchanged.
The first comment to this review had this to say:
You need to edit out the President's race from this particular article. It implies that his blackness has something to do with Swartz's suicide and makes this article and publication appear incredibly racist.No—it is not racist. The color of the president is very important in this case. The truth of the matter is that people who happen to have brown or black skin should be more sympathetic than white Americans to the kind shit that led to Swartz's death. They more than white Americans should know that the law system is not that just, often benefits those who are wealthy, is staffed by career-oriented professionals, and produces politically motivated results. Swartz did not face a justice system in the terms of a standard white person but in those that many blacks can easily understand and sympathize with. This shit is systematic. This is how it really works. You were caught on the wrong side of the law, which often happens to be the black side.
When I call out the president's color is it because he should have done or said something based on a justified understanding that brown and black people have about the American legal system. Sorry. It is time for some real talk. Obama is a black president, which is why he had to say something about Trayvon Martin, who was found guilty by this society's standards even before he committed a crime.
Attention! You have two hours to finish up your whatever before lunch and zip over to the City Hall Plaza to see Genius Award nominees Industrial Revelation today! It will be hands-down the most fun you've had on your lunch break in a while. Unless you eat lunch at GameWorks (mad respect).
The concert is part of the Out to Lunch series. It's 100% free and will go from noon until 1:30.
Did You Mistakenly Sign a $15 Minimum Wage Referendum and Want to Withdraw Your Signature?: You can! Here's how.
Aussteigen!: Following surveillance backlash, Germany wants top U.S. spy out of the country.
Tragedy in Texas: Four children and two adults found fatally shot at a house in the Houston suburb of Spring.
Oscar Perez Giron's Fatal Confrontation With Police at the Sodo Light Rail Station: Watch newly-released surveillance video here.
Another Day, Another Israeli Airstrike: "A new wave of Israeli airstrikes battered areas of Gaza early Thursday, continuing the deadly onslaught aimed at stopping militant rocket fire into Israel," reports ABC News.
Meanwhile in Washington State: 400 firefighters are battling the Mills Canyon fire.
Ignoring a Humanitarian Crisis?: Rick Perry blasts Obama for not visiting Texas to address the flood of undocumented children from Central America.
Everyone's a Critic: Chicago man who wrote book on running with bulls in Pamplona gored by bull in Pamplona.
Game of Thrones! Orange Is the New Black! Fargo!: Full list of just-announced 2014 Emmy nominations right here.
Finally, happy birthday to Neil Tennant, frontman for electropop geniuses the Pet Shop Boys. I know it's less than ideal to celebrate an acclaimed songwriter by linking to him performing a cover, but this rendition is amazing and, in the wake of gay marriage and legal pot, should immediately be adopted as the new theme song for the Washington State Tourism Board.
Apropos of the quote in Nipper's post below—"Smith surmises that 'this guy must have half-inched one from the factory the day it was pressed, gone back to work the next day and found out they'd trashed the lot'"—"to half-inch" something means what it sounds like: to pilfer something over in merry old England. But why? Maybe this is something all record nerds know, but for the rest of us, this bloke above explains. Then explains again. And again. There's something sort of soothing about this bloke.
If the US does not want to end up old like Italy or Japan, it needs this fresh blood arriving from Central America. As I wrote in my review of Jose Antonio Vargas's documentary Documented, the one of the biggest problems rich countries are facing is the aging of their populations. In Italy, for example, the median age is 43.5, and it's expected that by 2033, one-third of its citizens will be older than 65. That time is not that far away, and, as the economist Mark Blyth points out in his book Austerity: The History of a Dangerous Idea, those who are holding Italy's long-term sovereign debt must be worried about who is going to pay the interest on their 30-year bonds when the country will also be working to pay the pensions for all of these old people.
The simple solution would be to open the doors to immigrants, but Italy's citizens want nothing to do with that option. The United States is also heading in this direction. A recent Census Bureau report predicts that by 2050, as much as a fifth of the US population will be older than 65. The reason the US is not as old as Italy or other European countries is most likely its large immigrant population.
The surge of undocumented youths from Central America has overwhelmed federal facilities and revived the debate over an immigration policy overhaul, one of the most partisan issues in the already overheated political climate of an election year.
U.S. authorities estimate that 60,000 to 80,000 undocumented children will cross the border without their parents this year. While many have been released to family pending deportation hearings, others have been detained by authorities amid a growing backlog of pending cases.
Detaining and deporting these young people is the last thing this country needs if its economic system hopes to survive. And survival only means one thing for capitalism, growth; and old people do not grow and have no future. As Danny Dorling, a Professor of Human Geography at the University of Sheffield, points out in his book Population 10 Billion, the connection between capitalist growth and the state or nature of a nation's population is real. Japan is exactly facing the reality of this connection. Its economic system desperately needs young blood from places like the Philippines, but its political system is crippled by xenophobia:
Indeed, one of Japan's most profound economic burdens is the aging of its population. While immigration may not be the only policy that can help transform an "old" population from a burden to a driver of growth, it is self-defeating to refuse immigration to be part of the solution. America should take note as we go into our own 2014 fall election cycle, where immigration is now more likely to be on the agenda.
But it's doubtful that the US will be able to avoid the path that Japan has taken. We can expect more of the same crippling hysteria....
Today's anti-immigration protests bear a terrifying resemblance to the anti-integration protests of the 20th century. pic.twitter.com/0KzLTlTFfR
— Deepa Bhandaru (@deepabhandaru) July 4, 2014
Holy moly, a new record collector's holy grail has surfaced: a one-off UK copy of Darrell Banks' "Open the Door to Your Heart" b/w "Our Love (Is In The Pocket)" on the English London label. GAH!! This single isn't unknown; it's actually an affordable, well-loved, and an often played classic which also charted in the US just shy of the Top 20. Clean original American copies, on Revilot, only rate about ten bucks. The hubub is 'cause an existing London issue of the 45 was only legend until someone in the UK turned up the ONLY known copy. Hence, BIG DEAL to record nerds. The legal UK issue was on Stateside, and it's only slightly less common than the US. Right, details via The Guardian:
...when someone casually mentioned on the Soulsource messageboard a couple of weeks ago that he had a finished London copy of "Open the Door to Your Heart," eyes rolled. It was only when the owner, one Nick W, posted scans of the single that people got very excited indeed. It seems to have originally belonged to someone who worked at the pressing plant. Smith surmises that “this guy must have half-inched one from the factory the day it was pressed, gone back to work the next day and found out they'd trashed the lot.” London presumably melted down the copies they'd pressed before the single came out on Stateside a few weeks later. Just the one copy snuck out.
It's believed, "conservatively," this 45 is worth at least £10,000, but in the world of obsessive (soul) record collectors who knows what this 45 could rate at auction. The original holy grail
is was Motown staff producer Frank Wilson's "Do I Love You." The last time a copy of the "Do I Love You" sold at auction it sold for just under £27,000 and there are, perhaps, five known copies of the Wilson 45. Oof...and just the other day I asked "what was the most money you kind folks of Slog Out™ had ever paid for a record?"
Last week's Supreme Court decision in Burwell v. Hobby Lobby left us dismayed, furious, and determined to push back. As advocates of reproductive rights, we believe strongly that women’s basic human rights should come before a corporation’s objections, however sincerely held they may be. This decision sets a dangerous precedent and codifies discrimination against women—it’s a blow to our rights that we simply can’t afford and must resist.
As mothers, we understand that the decision to build or expand one’s family is a deeply personal one. As women, we understand that birth control and abortion care are part of a much broader spectrum of reproductive choices, which most of us will seek during our lifetimes. In fact, 99 percent of women use birth control at some time in their lives, whether it’s to prevent pregnancy, or as medicine to treat a wide variety of health issues, including such debilitating conditions as endometriosis and polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS).
But for whatever reason a woman chooses to use birth control, the fact remains that she should not have to appeal to her employer to validate that choice. That simply isn’t how medicine works. To suggest otherwise is both inaccurate and dangerous. Birth control is basic health care. It should be treated that way.
In Washington State, we have a long and proud history of affirming a woman’s right to the full spectrum of reproductive health care options, including birth control, maternity care, and safe and legal abortion. From the passage of Initiative 120 in 1990 to programs like Take Charge, which provides critical reproductive health care services to low-income women, to the Washington State Pharmacy Board’s recommendation that pharmacists fill all needed prescriptions—including emergency contraception—without delay, we have led the charge for policies that empower women and affirm our right to make our own personal medical decisions.
But in recent years, we have lost significant ground.
1. The first twenty yoghurt-covered pretzels are delicious. You can't imagine eating anything else again, ever. But the very next yoghurt-covered pretzel—the 21st yoghurt-covered pretzel—is utterly revolting. You can't imagine eating another one again, ever.
2. Can ten Chinese tourists give themselves whores' baths in an airport men's room with only three sinks? Yes, they can—and they'll cheerfully make room for one American faggot who just wants to wash his hands.
3. I watched six episodes of Girls on my flight and Lena Dunham is a fucking genius—and I don't gotta say this, and I probably shouldn't say it, but I'm gonna say it anyway: I want Adam to fuck the shit out of Elijah. It wouldn't really happen, of course, because Adam (fucking hot) is so straight and Elijah (fucking ditto) is so gay. But weirder things have happened on Girls—like Elijah fucking Marnie. That was weird. So pretty please, Lena? Maybe in a dream sequence?
"It's painful [to watch]," says Giron's cousin, Michelle Aguilar. "I haven't been able to stop crying."
Over at the Hedreen Gallery, two individuals in wetsuits—one blue, one yellow—are quietly inhabiting a kiddie pool ringed with dead horsetails. The individuals have been in there since 1:30 or so. Above that kiddie pool hangs a wolf skin that is slowly and steadily dripping red liquid from its snout. That red liquid, according to another artist who happened to be in the room, is pig blood. It must've been packed with exquisite care inside that wolf skin, because its drips are as slow and regular as a water clock.
The individuals look like slender manatees and are very carefully and very slowly working their way clockwise around the ever-redder kiddie pool, occasionally pulling their heads out of the water or gurgling their snorkels. One observer noticed that when the manatees' butts are in the air, the droplets of blood hit and radiate slowly across their wetsuits in almost intentional-looking patterns—these are the kinds of things people notice while sitting and watching a physically quiet, time-intensive performance.
Then, a couple of people burst into the room and one shouted "I can't believe Argentina won!" The manatees didn't seem to care about the World Cup.
This is the first iteration of the 2014 Yellow Fish Epic Durational Performance Festival, running between right now and Aug 2. There will be more to say in the coming days and weeks—haters will think it's silly, lovers will think it's vital, the rest of us will oscillate between those two centers of gravity as we see different pieces and achieve different levels of engagement or boredom over the coming weeks. (Having dabbled with durational performance in my distant past, I can say with confidence that nobody experiences the tedious lows of that kind of work more than the performer.) But for now, just know that two human manatees are soaking in a large container of water and pig blood.
People have also been sprinkling in handfuls of what looks like salt, sugar, and dried leafy matter (sage?) from a few bowls at the entrance to the room. Nearby, there is a statue with incense, what look like vials of milk, three tarot cards, and some torn-out pages from books pasted on the walls.
Admiral Going Down?: Thanks to digital advances in film distribution and a slew of serious maintenance challenges, West Seattle's charmingly ramshackle discount second-run cinema may not be long for this world.
Intiman, Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center, Angels in America, and HIV Vaccine Research: This summer, Intiman is re-staging parts one and two of Angels in America, 20 years after the play made its regional-theater premiere at Intiman. (Tony Kushner talks about that anniversary, and how Republicans, climate change, and HIV—some of the major themes of the play—look to him two decades after the fact in this interview.) Fred Hutch does extensive HIV vaccine research and Dr. James Kublin, its principal staff scientist in the vaccine and infectious disease division, did his internship at St. Vincent's Hospital in 1988, where some of the scenes in the play take place. There will be discounts for family and friends of Fred Hutch and Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, as well as post-show opportunities to learn more about Seattle-based research for an HIV vaccine. More than anything, this is an awareness-building partnership, but there's nothing wrong with that.
Your Digital Future: Today, Courtney Sheehan, the program director for Northwest Film Forum, shared with The Stranger the trailer for an event called Digitally Rendered Mind (DRM). The idea basic behind DRM, which is curated by Nic Wilson and involves 11 artists, is this: "[It] puts a playful twist on the protocol of digital rights management to contemplate its cognitive/social ripple effects." The images in the trailer are gorgeous, and its score rocks the techno hard. DRM happens at the Northwest Forum on July 12.
How to Make Republicans Care About a Book: Costco dropped, and then restocked, copies of conservative loon Dinesh D'Souza's book America: Imagine a World Without Her.
Worry About George R. R. Martin Finishing the Game of Thrones Series? George has a message for you.
D&D&LGBTQ: The new Dungeons & Dragons rules encourage players to consider all sorts of different expressions of gender and sexuality while creating characters:
"You don't need to be confined to binary notions of sex and gender," the new rules state. "You can play as a male or female character without gaining any special benefits or hindrances. Think about how your character does or does not conform to the broader culture's expectations of sex, gender and sexual behavior. For example, a male drow cleric defies the traditional gender divisions of drow society, which could be a reason for your character to leave that society and come to the surface."
That is the most D&D-like passage about gender and sexuality ever written.
A new drag cabaret event! Two freaktastic dragazines called James Majesty and Freckles Riverside put their wiggy heads together and conjured up the READ-ing Rainbow, a night of draggy sorcery featuring basically the entire House of Majesty. (You do totally understand that there are, like, you know, old-fashioned drag houses around? Like the LadyDudes and the Paradiscos and the Champagnes and the LaGarces and, yes, the Majesties? Fact!) "It's a saucy, circus-freak drag show," the creators would like you to understand, and best of all, perhaps? Underagers are most welcome, indeed, although there is a full bar for of-age lushes, as well. I constantly lament the scarcity of underage events in this here town, so this one is a welcome breath of fresh, underagey air. Pro 'mo tip: Since it's relatively early, the underage folks intend to sashay up to Neighbours afterward for their underage night as well. And the of-agers (as t'were)? Well, they are probably going to R Place for Robbie Turner's Play Ground. As one does. The READ-ing Rainbow is happening every second Wednesday of every single month! Can Can, 7 pm, $10, 16+.
Lots of people seemed confused about what it meant to sign that referendum, and there have been reports that the signature gatherers on the street told people that signing would help raise the minimum wage, or that somehow the law wasn't in effect yet and that a referendum would make it go into effect. That's just not the case: You referendum laws you don't like so that you can then defeat them at the ballot. If you approve of the wage raise, you didn't need to do anything, because it's already law.
So: If you signed a referendum petition even though you support the $15 minimum wage, and you wish you could take your signature back, you can. But the deadline to do so is this Friday morning at 9:00 a.m. All the withdrawal requests must be received by the city clerk's office by then. What to do? According to city clerk's office spokeswoman Christie Villa, you have to describe in your request what referendum you signed, give your name, and sign your request to withdraw the same way you signed the original petition (don't suddenly use your maiden name or a nickname or something). The exact language of the law is below the jump if you want to clarify further.
According to Villa, "written requests may be directed by e-mail to the receiving officer, Monica Martinez Simmons, City Clerk, at the following email address: Monica.Simmons@seattle.gov, or submitted in person at the City Clerk’s Office, located in City Hall, 600 4th Avenue, Third Floor."
Since the deadline is so tight, Working Washington, the labor-backed campaign that helped organize last year's fast-food strikes and worked to pass Seattle's $15 minimum wage law, wants to help anyone who's in this situation. They put together a form you can fill out and print if you want to do it yourself, or you can stop by their downtown offices by 3 p.m. tomorrow to sign one there, at 215 Columbia Street, and they'll drop it off for you at City Hall. If you need to arrange something outside of business hours, they might be able to do that if you give them a call at (866) 385-9509. They will also be at four different Molly Moon outlets (Capitol Hill, Queen Anne, Wallingford, and U Village) from 6 to 9 p.m. tonight with withdraw-your-signature forms.
If you signed the petition with full knowledge of what you were doing, then there's nothing to see here, folks. You'll find out if you successfully referendum-ed the minimum wage after King County Elections finishes their signature verification process, which starts as soon as that signature-withdrawal deadline.
Around the time the prez warded off a man in a horse mask, this happened:
"Asked him if he wanted a hit of pot...he laughed! #legalizeit #iinhaled," says Instagrammer Matt Anton in the accompanying caption. More evidence that you don't have to actually smoke the stuff to have a good time.
British writer David Stubbs' Future Days: Krautrock and the Building of Modern Germany (Faber & Faber) joins the small pile of books dedicated to krautrock, the powerful flowering of underground rock that bloomed in Germany in the late '60s and flourished in the first half of the '70s. Previous volumes on this topic include the encyclopedic The Crack in the Cosmic Egg by British brothers Steven and Alan Freeman, Krautrock: Cosmic Rock and Its Legacy (edited by Nikolaos Kotsopoulos), and Julian Cope's famously controversial Krautrocksampler.
Faber & Faber's site hints that Future Days—which is named after Can's 1973 masterpiece—will focus on Faust, Neu!, Can, Cluster, Kraftwerk, Ash Ra Tempel, Amon Düül II—all crucial artists whose works you need in your collection. But I hope he delves beyond these groups, as inspirational bands like Et Cetera, Embryo, Popol Vuh, Agitation Free, Cosmic Jokers, and others still remain largely overlooked. Stubbs is a fine, perceptive writer—I read him regularly in Melody Maker in the '80s and '90s—and I'm confident he'll do the subject justice. Here's a description of his general thrust from the publisher:
Future Days is an in-depth study of this meditative, sometimes abstract, often very beautiful music and the groups that made it, throwing light too on the social and political context that informed them. It's an indispensable book for those wanting to understand how much of today's music came about, and to discover a wealth of highly influential and pioneering artists.
So many of the world's most interesting post-punk, psych-rock, electronic, and ambient musicians from the '80s onward have drawn sonic sustenance from the cream of krautrock. Its ideas are still shaping the outlooks of outward-bound musicians worldwide. Let's hope Stubbs' book doesn't just preach to the converted, but also triggers interest in this music in people who've not yet explored it.
Future Days is published Aug. 7 in the UK.
• Opening for the Notwist on Saturday night at Neumos, Anticon Records mainstay Jel looked like Jeff Spicoli's tightest bro from way back when with his lank blond hair and skateboarder-skinny build. But when he started tapping out beats on his MPC, Jel turned into a one-man Neptunes, his stark, hard-as-hell slaps recalling the production on Clipse's Lord Willin'. In between tracks, Jel mocked his old-ass flip phone and cracked wise about US/Canadian border patrol, among other things. He was as funny as he was funky. The Notwist's Germanic indie rock was fine—ranging from beautifully hushed slow numbers to fiery, rambunctious songs—but singer Markus Acher's bland voice always sounds like sour milk being poured on an elegantly conceived and executed meal. Like many rock bands, the Notwist would substantially improve if they went all instrumental.
• New Order played a hit-filled set to a packed Paramount on Sunday evening, finishing with an encore of crowd-pleasing Joy Division songs. ("Love Will Tear Us Apart" was the final song, as it should be, always and forever.)
MARY, 60, MARIJUANA SALESWOMAN FOR 20 YEARS
Why did you start selling marijuana?
Well, I was a single working mom with a smart son who had his heart set on going to a fancy East Coast college. I promised him that if he could get in, we could pay for it. An old hippie friend of mine was a small-time [marijuana] farmer, and I love to garden, so it made sense to get into the business.
Aw, what a good mom! You started growing pot to fulfill your son's childhood dreams! I can relate—my mom dated a series of real-estate agents to fulfill my childhood dream of living in a house with a pool.
She sounds like a lovely woman.
She's all right. I mean, she refused to date a pool boy, so I had to clean that damn thing every summer. Did you have any moral conflicts with becoming a marijuana saleswoman?
You know, at first I did. I had a teenage son, and parents are rather indoctrinated with anti-marijuana propaganda through school and the news as much as their children are. At first, I worried that my son would become a drug addict because of me, or his friends would. That was my biggest fear: having a fellow mom on my doorstep, crying, because she caught her son or daughter smoking my weed and traced it back to me somehow. That I would become the gateway to some kid dying in an alley with a needle in his arm.
.@ManassasCityPD - you left "Making Kiddie Porn" off your profile. That's what yer famous for, guys. @CityofManassas pic.twitter.com/vg9sWttolw
— Dan Savage (@fakedansavage) July 9, 2014
I've been giving Manassas, Virginia, and the Manassas City Police Department a hard time today on Twitter. Because of this story, which I wrote up earlier today on Slog. To recap: two teenagers—one a 17-year-old boy, one 15-year-old girl—sexted each other. The 15-year-old girl initiated the sexting. The girl's mom found the sexts and called the cops. The cops arrested the 17-year-old boy—and only the boy—and Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Claiborne Richardson is vigorously prosecuting that boy for possessing and manufacturing child porn.
So there is a 17-year-old boy in Manassas, Virginia. He has (had?) a 15-year-old girlfriend. She sent him pictures of her plump blossoming bosoms or whatever, so he sent her video (probably a Vine?) of his junk. Now the police want to take him to a hospital, shoot his dick full of Love Potion No. Nine, and take hot hot child prOn pictures of his hard boy-penis, so they can compare it to the penis in the video, and then prosecute him for child pornography. Everything about this story makes total sense. What is the first thing that makes sense about this story, Washington Post?
The teen is facing two felony charges, for possession of child pornography and manufacturing child pornography, which could lead not only to incarceration until he’s 21, but inclusion on the state sex offender data base for, possibly, the rest of his life.
Oh, he was “manufacturing” child prOn by taking pictures of his own and not anybody else’s penis, and so could go to jail for four years and be considered a sex offender forever? SEE, TOTAL SENSE.
But first Claiborne Richardson is going to drag that kid to a hospital in handcuffs and “give him a shot, and then take the pictures that we need.” The pictures Richardson needs—the pictures he craves—are pictures of the erect penis of that 17-year-old boy. Take it away, Wonkette:
Got it, Manassas PD and prosecutors. You just need to make some child prOn to show that boys making their own child prOn OF THEMSELVES AND NOT ANYBODY ELSE AND FOR TO SEND TO THEIR GIRLFRIENDS NOT TO SELL TO JOE FRANCIS OR WHATEVER is wrong. Everything about this case screams “TOTALLY APPROPRIATE ADULTS ACTING SENSIBLY AND IN AN APPROPRIATE WAY.”
Like I said, I've been giving the city of Manassas and the Manassas City Police Department a hard time on Twitter. And they deserve it and won't you please join me? But the biggest villain in this piece is Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Claiborne Richardson. He's the driving force behind the prosecution of this kid. So I am officially calling out the flying monkeys—it's been a while, my lovelies—and asking you to flood this creepy dicksniffer's email inbox with letters of protest and jam the phone lines at his office. Here are Richardson's email address and phone numbers:
Phone: (703) 792-6050
Fax: (703) 792-7081
And while you're in an outraged emailing-sending/call-making mood, also get in touch with Richardson's boss:
Paul B. Ebert
Commonwealth Attorney's Office
9311 Lee Avenue
Manassas, VA 20110-5594
Phone: 703-792-6050, F: 703-792-7081
Whoa Nelly!! President Obama shakes hands with man wearing a horse head (AP photo): http://t.co/QAdGGWctwB pic.twitter.com/JvK6zHBzyp
— USA TODAY (@USATODAY) July 9, 2014
Argentina just smashed Netherlands in a penalty shootout. Highlights here. I missed the game, but this tweet captures my feelings right now:
🙌👏😭🙌😭👏😭🙌👏😂👏👌🙌✊🙌🙌🙌 Latin America in the finals. Viva Argentina! 🙌👏🙌👏😭🙌👏🙌👌😭👏👏🙌🙌😭👏👏🙌
— TayGo (@taygogo) July 9, 2014
This is great news:
"Justice Alito has denied the application for stay in 14A19; Theresa Santai-Gaffney v. Deb Whitewood, et al." #SCOTUS— Chris Geidner (@chrisgeidner) July 9, 2014
That stay request was part of the last-ditch effort by the county clerk in Pennsylvania to keep the marriage case alive there.— Chris Geidner (@chrisgeidner) July 9, 2014
Does this mean we'll be seeing same-sex weddings in Pennsylvania soon? Sure seems like it, SCOTUSBlog says:
In another development on same-sex marriage Wednesday, Supreme Court Justice Samuel A. Alito, Jr., denied without comment a Pennsylvania county clerk’s plea to stop such marriages in that state. That appears to remove the last potential legal barrier to Pennsylvania becoming the nineteenth state in which same-sex marriages are permitted. A federal judge struck down the state ban, and state officials declined to appeal. The Schuylkill County clerk sought to appeal in their place, but that move has now been turned down at all three levels of the federal court system.
In retrospect, it's amazing it lasted as long as it did. I walk past the old site twice a day to and from work, and three new housing developments are in various stages of completion all within the same two-block radius—one right across the street. It's hard to believe the Funhouse was ever located on the same 5th Avenue that houses the EMP Museum and the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation (that said, The 5-Point Café, only a few blocks away, is still going strong).
So, Razing the Bar is also a lamentation for the accelerating pace of gentrification in downtown Seattle, an issue with which I've long been concerned—even more so now that my own apartment building, in which I've lived for 20 years, is slated for demolition. (The city plans to build a 44-story luxury hotel, Seattle's highest, where my five-story building has stood since the 1920s.)
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