MONDAY, OCTOBER 25 The week got off to a delightful start with the early morning publication of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, who continued their coverage of Seattle's upcoming election by shining their middling spotlight on fascinating city council candidates Charlie Chong and Heidi Wills. For those not in the know, Charlie Chong, a pathetically addled old man whose brain-dead ramblings are as heartbreakingly sad as they are hysterically funny, is locked in heated battle for city council seat 7 with Heidi Wills, a shockingly chipper young woman whose ferocious ambition (and habitual marijuana use) has irreparably hampered her ability to tell the truth. Traditionally, the P-I's election coverage has been about as stimulating as phone sex with Al Gore, but today's overview by Kery Murakami boasted an additional spark, brought about by perhaps the single greatest aspect of the Chong campaign: the forcing of the straight media to employ an evenhanded, objective approach to reporting on a complete lunatic. Unable to openly refer to Charlie Chong as a nutcase, Ms. Murakami gamely trotted out the traditional Chong-is-crazy euphemisms, reporting on the "maverick outsider" whose "eccentricity, scraggly beard and cantankerous slings against government" have made him "one of Seattle's most identifiable political figures." (Meanwhile, mendacious pothead Wills was noted for her "politician's polish" and high-profile endorsements.) And while the mainstream papers may be forbidden from explicitly calling a freak a freak, Charlie Chong continues to do a fine job of making plain his adorable insanity. When asked at a recent forum how Green Lake might be made cleaner, Chong offered this bit of eco-economical wisdom: "Why don't we fill it with salmon and sell them?" No, we did not make that up.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26 Tonight a whole bunch of lesbians coughed up $15 a head for the chance to cruise, schmooze, and fuck like the boys do at Pussy Potluck, a one-night, women-only event at Seattle's legendary sex club Basic Plumbing. Literally hundreds of horny women crowded the club and the street outside, and while it took the ladies a bit of time to warm up, by the time the entertainment got rolling -- including a saucy military skit as well as fisting, spanking, and cutting demonstrations -- the girls were mashing in the aisles. Unfortunately for one would-be adventurer, what should have been an evening of carefree lesbian sleaze turned into a night of hellish dyke drama. Upon entering the club, our young heroine was almost immediately confronted with the sight of her still-beloved ex-girlfriend, accompanied by her ex-girlfriend and a gaggle of everybody else she's ever known. Hoping to avoid an unpleasant confrontation, our girl turned on her heel and headed for the door (her ex had gotten to the event first, and therefore held territorial rights). Unfortunately, an easy exit was not to be had: Having spotted her fleeing ex, Ex-Girlfriend #1 promptly chased our lady down the street, and the aborted night of cheap sex turned into yet another processing marathon. Last Days sends our condolences to everyone involved, and recommends that women searching for no-strings-attached erotic adventure look to the one foolproof source of cheap sex: men.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27 Two weeks ago, Last Days reported on the maple syrup terrorist who's recently been wreaking havoc on a wide assortment of Seattle and King County public library book drops. Today, we received a forwarded memo from the libraries' Public Information Officer, revealing that police have apprehended a suspect in the goopy vandalism case: Richard Epton, a 55-year old transient arrested Saturday on a parole violation, who was quickly named the prime suspect in the library crimes after police found a bottle of syrup and a collection of library books in his car. In 1997, Epton was cited for sending harassing letters to a variety of libraries (including Seattle's), as well as to Yankees owner George Steinbrenner and P-I sportswriter Art Thiel; currently Epton is sitting in King County Jail awaiting his hearing.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28 Speaking of harassment-by-mail: today the Associated Press reported on four University of Washington scientists who recently received letters booby- trapped with razor blades. The letters, believed to be the work of a radical animal-rights group targeting primate researchers around the country, were rigged to cut the openers of the envelopes; thankfully, the UW scientists had been tipped off to the slashy letter campaign (letters were identifiable by their handwritten addresses and Las Vegas postmarks), and forwarded their unopened envelopes to the proper authorities. The FBI is investigating.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29 Perhaps still suffering from the strange exhaustion that made him unable to successfully check the "veto" box on last week's ostensibly vetoed Noise Ordinance, tonight Mayor Paul Schell was seen waging a private war against narcolepsy at a public forum on artist housing issues. Our eagle-eyed Hot Tipper reports that Snoozy McSchell barely managed to fight off the sandman until he took the podium, where, before an audience of hundreds of artists and arts administrators, he slurred out a few words about artists causing warehouse spaces' skyrocketing rents, then ambled back to his seat and his semi-somnambular state. Schell managed to exit before the Q & A, effectively preempting the question on the tip of everyone's tongue: "Is he hung-over? Or is he still drunk?"

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30 Today Seattle was blessed with the presence of Last Days' parents, who traveled all the way from Texas to bask in the murky grayness and buy us expensive housewares we could never afford on our own. While strolling down Second Avenue, the parental pair wandered into Roger's Clothing Store, where they were promptly chatted up by the store's charming owner, an almost elderly man whom we can only surmise is named Roger. Eventually the conversation turned, as all conversations do, to a discussion of The Stranger, with Roger offering his two cents on this trashy rag. Turns out Roger had nothing but cheers for The Stranger's vital and necessary "outsider perspective" -- and nothing but jeers for the paper's willful and perpetual vulgarity. A self-identified liberal, Roger bemoaned the habit of so many Stranger writers (ourselves included) to waste the power of the pen on the production of so many unnecessary swear words (an opinion shared by Last Days' father). And while Last Days supports the use of imaginative vulgarity in the postmodern press, we hate to scare off intelligent readers laboring under delicate sensibilities. So in honor of Roger and our father, next week Last Days will go 100% profanity-free. However, for the rest of this week, we're going to cuss up a fucking storm.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31 Today was Halloween, the stupidest fucking holiday in the whole world. The celebration of Halloween began in the 7th or 8th century, and was brought to the New World by Gaelic immigrants, who spread the Druid-based beliefs in witches and supernatural happenings when they weren't forcing their wives to fuck goats.

Fuck you, you fucking fuck. Send your Hot Tips to or phone the 24-Hour Hot Tip Hotline at 323-7101 ext. 3113.