Meow, Meow, Meow: The Art and Culture of Hello Kitty
(CUTE!!!) Fine, I admit it: I am a little girl. My affection for "fancy goods"--like those most notably manufactured by the indefinably sinister Japanese merchandising multinational Sanrio--knows about as little bounds as the relentless onslaught of that merchandise. From vacuum cleaners to vibrators, the Hello Kitty likeness graces nearly every possible product a household could imagine. Seattle artist Maki Tamura's current installation at the Seattle Asian Art Museum takes aim at the alluring pink glow of the elusive icon, and tonight she'll speak on the cultural prominence and significance of the bobble-headed feline phenomenon. (Seattle Asian Art Museum, 1400 E Prospect St, 654-3100, 7 pm, $5-10.) ZACHARY PENNINGTON


The SuperBees
(MUSIC) The first time I saw L.A.'s SuperBees they were opening for the Streetwalkin' Cheetahs. Loud, brash, and oozing that Detroit garage "soul-uality," the SuperBees are kind of a California counterpart to our own rock 'n' rollin' Midnight Thunder Express. Frontman Dave James yowls like Wile E. Coyote getting flamed by the roadrunner, but his lyrical attitude is much more the man who'll leave you flat on your ass before you even had the chance to get his number. (The Comet Tavern, 922 E Pike St, 323-9853.) JENNIFER MAERZ


'The Warriors'
(CINEMATIC BRILLIANCE) I liked Gangs of New York a lot, but not even Daniel Day-Lewis is going to convince me that anyone knows the mean streets of NYC better than Walter Hill's 1979 masterwork, in which the shirtless, leather-vested Warriors must fight their way back to Coney Island against the 100,000-strong army of rival gangs who think the group killed Cyrus, a messiah of sorts whose rallying cry is the eternal "Can you dig it?!?" Part horror, part camp, and part violent paranoid masturbation fantasy, The Warriors should make any lover of cult cinema come out and play. (The Grand Illusion, 1403 NE 50th St, 523-3935, Fri-Sat Jan 10-11 at 11 pm, $7/$4.50 members.) SEAN NELSON


(MUSIC) Cherrywine, the former lead rapper of the legendary Digable Planets (who once went by the name Butterfly), easily has the most decadent rap voice in all of hiphop. The closest cat to him is MC Solaar, but that's just because Solaar raps in French, which automatically sounds decadent to English ears. Cherrywine, however, is not purely decadent; the actual content of his raps has always been very political, employing sophisticated imagery and verbal constructions to form eloquent critiques of urban American life. (Graceland, 109 Eastlake Ave E, 262-0482, $7.) CHARLES MUDEDE


'The Pianist'
(FILM) The more I see The Pianist (three times, and counting), the more I become convinced that it's not just the best Roman Polanski film in 25 years, but maybe the very best Polanski has to offer. A film about the Holocaust that is neither sparing nor sentimental, The Pianist tells a true story of deepest human degradation and despair, with a moral frankness and stylistic refinement that makes all its predecessors seem both heavy-handed and lightweight by comparison. If a movie can be important, this one is. (Metro Cinemas, NE 45th St and Roosevelt Way, 633-0055.) SEAN NELSON


Steven T. Hill
(READING/BOOKS) The reason why I'm suggesting Steven Hill's reading and new book, Fixing Elections: The Failure of America's Winner-Take-All Politics, is I still can't get over how the current president stole the past election, and now feels he has the right to spend between $100 billion and $200 billion (according to conservative White House estimates--this amounts to one to two percent of America's GNP, which is currently at $10 trillion) attacking one specific country out of many that are ruled by crazy dictators. Anything that could help prevent another Bush happening again, such as the changes in the electoral process that Hill believes would improve voter representation and confidence in the system, is worth an emphatic Stranger Suggests. (Elliott Bay Book Company, 101 S Main St, 624-6600, 7:30 pm, free.) CHARLES MUDEDE


Xiu Xiu
(AURAL SUICIDE) Sound, the most manipulative of all the senses, is a lazy man's tool for communication--the way in which a well-placed scream or a swelling wash of strings can toy with emotion is instantaneous, and though often shallow in substance, deeply affecting in its impossible immediacy. It's been a long time since I've heard a band that has quite the relationship with sound as does Oakland's Xiu Xiu. Most clearly stated, their music is the direct sonic equivalent of open wrists: desperate, brutal, selfish, gruesome... but not without a certain romance. (The Green Room, 1426 First Ave, 628-3151, 9 pm, $5.) ZACHARY PENNINGTON