In my spare time, I compose epitaphs for The Stranger's tombstone. Here is my current favorite: "From waiters they came, to waiters they shall return." This week's feature, which probably took all of three seconds to slap together, is a collection of anecdotes about the food-service jobs Stranger staffers held before they decided to earn even less money by making a mockery of journalism on a full-time basis. We learn that as incompetent as these children are as reviewers and pundits, they were even bigger failures as food handlers. ELI SANDERS, it seems, could not keep his greasy paws off the luncheon meat at a deli; DAN SAVAGE pranced around Europe and committed another crime we can add to the ever-thickening dossier; PAUL CONSTANT's usual lack of hygiene reached even more deplorable heights when he was shilling overpriced coffee; LINDY WEST crushed oranges for free (and was, somehow, still overpaid); CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE used to dress head-to-toe in white for the pleasure of ignoring guests at a Cheesecake Factory on the Eastside; DAVE SEGAL had crushes on the pretty young waitstaff that he still waxes perverted about, long after the bygone days of his youth; and BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT proved herself as inadequate an employee on the other side of the counter as she is sitting in a restaurant with a notepad and pen making snide comments. Not only is this entire overlong section filled with stories of people who are far too pleased with their own poor behavior, but it is also as untimely as a "newspaper" can get. Reminiscences are not news.
So, naturally, we complement these boring bits of memoir with... a boring bit of memoir, this one about a confused young man named NATHAN QUIROGA and his experiences with his irresponsible father. One would half expect the elder to merit praise for his drugging-and-sexing ways—is that not the path to happiness, according to everything else The Stranger publishes?—but this piece seems to imply that such behavior is abhorrent. Somehow, it still manages to be pornographic and reprehensible.
Elsewhere, quickly... BOOKS: Mr. Mudede blathers about how our crushing Obama-inspired debt is a good thing, because it will lead—he swoons—to communism... VISUAL ART: Miss Graves free-associates about ghosts, drawings made with colored pencils, and some other things, and the result is as trite as you've come to expect from Miss Graves, who should perhaps swap out the "s" in her last name with a trail of "zzzzzz"... MUSIC: Mr. Constant writes about himself—I am detecting a trend here, I believe—and what sounds like the dullest rock-and-roll concert in history, which he is hosting this Friday because he is tired of simply boring people with books... SPORTS BLOTTER: Apparently, GOLDY was too busy gardening this week to snicker at athletes, so GRANT BRISSEY steps in... SAVAGE LOVE: Didn't bother, doesn't matter, too gay.