Clay Bennett and his Brooks Brothered Gang of Lawyers have filed a motion trying to prevent me from testifying for the City of Seattle in their lawsuit against PBC (the owner of the Sonics). In their motion, they identify me only as a "contributing writer for The Stranger," and not as a Sundance Film Festival–, PEN Malamud–, PEN Hemingway–, and National Book Award–winning writer. Yeesh, what's a girl got to do to get some love and respect from those Okies? Do they think I exist on the $60 checks I get for writing these little missives?

The Oklahoma lawyers also accuse me of being "irrelevant" and selectively quote from my Stranger columns and call them and me "profanity-laced."

I think they mean that to be an insult, an adjectival measure of my poor character, but when I think of lace I think of the lacey edges of my grandmother's dance shawl, as she slowly and gracefully turned circles in the sawdust of my childhood. So "profanity-laced" is actually a lovely compliment. I see my grandmother spinning with "fuck" and "shit" and "bastard" flitting around her like butterflies.

That's the hilarious part. The disturbing part: The new Sonics owners think that a 12-year season-ticket holder like me is "irrelevant."