The Week in Review
MONDAY, JUNE 23 This week of vengeful potheads, indie-rock geek-outs, and glorious first-person correspondence kicks off with a contemporary menace well-documented by Last Days: elderly drivers mistaking gas pedals for brake pedals and causing mass destruction. Today's sadder-than-ever example comes from Des Moines, Washington, where last Friday, 76-year-old Herbert Huffman and his 86-year-old girlfriend made their weekly visit to the Des Moines pier. As the Seattle Post-Intelligencer reports, Huffman and his lady had been dating for six years following the deaths of their spouses, and a key component of their time together were trips to the pier, where they'd park and silently watch boats blow by. But all that changed last Friday, as the couple was parking in "their own special spot near the pier." Aiming for the brake, Huffman says he mistakenly pushed his SUV's gas pedal; as the vehicle lurched forward, he desperately hit the "brakes" again, sending the SUV crashing through a guardrail and into Puget Sound, where his female companion drowned. Today the P-I caught up with Huffman, who spoke mournfully of the couple's plans "to care for each other and grow older together." Instead, Huffman said, "I'm the one who killed her." Condolences to all, and confidential to everyone with parents over 75: Just as it was your mother's duty to send clippings about binge drinking and date rape to the younger you, it is your duty to discuss the dangers of accidental acceleration with the older her.
TUESDAY, JUNE 24 In lighter news: Today brings a delightfully ridiculous story of marijuana-induced revenge from North Seattle's Crown Hill neighborhood, where a pair of roommates got into a semiliteral pissing match over pot. Details come from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer's police blog Seattle 911, which reports the saga began roughly a month ago, when a man in his late teens moved in with another young man with a well-known love of marijuana. But when "there was too much pot smoking too often," the late-teenage roommate announced that "there would be no more pot smoking" and shattered the roommate's bong on the sidewalk. The next morning, the bong-breaking roommate noticed his beloved Xbox was dripping a liquid that "smelled like urine," after which he called the police. Thank you, bong-huffing roommate, for so moistly making the point that Xbox is easily as addictive as pot, and thank you, bong-breaking roommate, for reporting your soggy Xbox to authorities, thus entering this story into the public record for eternity. (No arrests have been made.)
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 25 The week continues at the Seattle nightclub Chop Suey, where tonight Three Imaginary Girls hosted Exile in (Imaginary) Girlville, a night commemorating the 15th anniversary of Liz Phair's eternally brilliant debut album, Exile in Guyville, and featuring a slew of bands covering Guyville's 18 tracks in order. For those who don't know, Guyville is one of rock's rare immaculate conceptions, a start-to-finish masterpiece that inspired fierce indie-rock allegiance and galvanized late-20th-century feminists like a dirty-talking A Room of One's Own. Thanks to the double-whammy strength of the material and the talent, tonight's show was a total smash. The women on the bill seized the night's opportunity and fuckin' ran with it, with Rachel Flotard, Team Gina, Lesli Wood, and Star Anna all knocking it out of the park. More surprising were the men, who applied themselves in exemplary fashion: Tennis Pro slapped on dresses to bang out "Never Said" and "Soap Star Joe"; Throw Me the Statue made "Stratford-on-Guy" and "Strange Loop" sound like originals they were thrilled to have just written; and M. Bison reduced at least one audience member to sobs with their gorgeous, high-drama "Canary." Bravo and thanks to everyone who helped us spend a most amazing evening geeking out to one of our favorite records. (And while we're saluting the seminal output of 1993, please bring on the cover-night tribute to Rid of Me.)
THURSDAY, JUNE 26 Meanwhile in the real world: Today the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in support of the right to keep and bear arms in the home, striking down handgun bans in the District of Columbia, Chicago, San Francisco, and other cities. Meanwhile in Spokane, a 42-year-old man "drinking with friends and playing with a handgun" accidentally shot himself in the face. The Associated Press reports the shooting occurred after the man "attempted to prove [the gun] was unloaded by pointing it at his face and pulling the trigger." He remains in critical condition.
FRIDAY, JUNE 27 Readers undoubtedly recall the saga first reported by Hot Tipper Oscar, in which a prophesy-spouting freak brutally attacked a blind woman on a Metro bus, instigating a rescue effort by Oscar and his fellow riders and resulting in criminal charges against the attacker. Today brought a lovely new chapter to the ongoing saga, via a typewritten, snail-mailed letter from one Jeanne Towne, who writes, "I was the blind woman assaulted aboard a Metro bus on Sunday morning, May 18. I want to add my thanks to the people who intervened on my behalf and looked after me when it was over. At first, I didn't even realize someone had deliberately struck me. After three blows I finally wised up enough to duck, but he managed to hit me a few more times anyway. Although I was dazed and amazed that someone would do such a thing, people were wonderful. It's one heck of a way to make friends, but WOW! What friends in need! The reaction of the other passengers on the bus this May has restored my faith in the decency of Seattleites and in the power of teamwork. God bless them all—especially those who also sustained injuries. All I can offer you is a song if we ever meet in Pike Place Market. (And in case you're interested, I've received concerned apologies from the King County Sheriff's Department [responsible for Metro security] and from Metro, along with an annual pass.)"
SATURDAY, JUNE 28 Nothing happened today, unless you count the 17-year-old boy who scaled two six-foot-tall fences at Six Flags Over Georgia only to be decapitated by the Batman ride. Condolences to everyone, especially the many bystanders forced to witness the killing.
SUNDAY, JUNE 29 Nothing happened today, unless you count the Seattle Gay Pride Parade, in which an estimated 400,000 gays and those who love them withstood near-record temperatures to celebrate queerdom, and where Last Days fell into a heatstroke-induced fever dream, marked by hallucinations of blindingly white butt cheeks and the entire Seattle City Council motoring about on Segways.
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