Last Days

MONDAY, AUGUST 31 Hello and welcome back to original-recipe
Last Days, which commences today with Referendum 71, the
Washington State ballot referendum that’ll spend the week being kicked
around the courts like a smelly, anti-gay hacky sack. For those not
already haunted by the facts: R-71 will ask voters to approve or reject
Washington’s recently expanded domestic-partnership law, which
secured “everything-but-marriage” rights for registered same-sex
couples and was signed into law by Governor Christine Gregoire earlier
this year. In a kicky twist, R-71 would allow majority vote to decide
the basic rights of the minority, and today the secretary of state’s
office decided that the referendum had enough valid signatures to
qualify for the November ballot. Meanwhile, today in King County
Superior Court, R-71 faced its first court battle, instigated by a
lawsuit filed last week by the pro-domestic-partnership group
Washington Families Standing Together, requesting an injunction
to keep the sketchy referendum off the fall ballot. Wednesday will
bring a mind-bending double-whammy follow-up, as King County
Superior Court judge
Julie Spector rejects the attempt to
block R-71 (saying that any such effort has to be made in Thurston
County while citing her concerns that thousands of invalid
signatures may have been accepted for R-71) and Secretary of
State Sam Reed reconfirms that R-71 has enough valid signatures to
qualify for the November ballot. On Thursday, Washington Families
Standing Together will file its referendum-blocking lawsuit in Thurston
County Superior Court. Stay tuned.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1 In lesser news, the week continues with
the well-hyped return of a would-be American superstar: Whitney
Houston, who today hit the stage in Central Park for a “comeback
performance” to be broadcast on Good Morning America. By all
accounts, it was a depressing suckfest, with critics citing the
repeated cracking of Houston’s voice and her total avoidance of high
notes. Even worse, Houston knew she blew it, offering an onstage
apology for her weak singing and blaming her troubles on a long, talky
interview conducted the previous day with Oprah Winfrey. Nevertheless,
today’s performance was a commendable step in the right direction for
Houston, last seen as the totally heartbreaking horny-crack-whore wife
on TV’s Being Bobby Brown.

Also, let the record show that if not for a certain someone who will
finally be laid to rest this Thursday, Whitney Houston’s journey from
American pop princess/diva/movie star to desperate drug addict and back
would be the preeminent celebrity narrative of our age. (Seriously, the
woman had it all—beauty, talent, prolonged extravagant
success—and let it go because, apparently, smoking cocaine
feels even better than being Whitney fucking Houston. Please make a
note of it, and beware.)

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2 Speaking of fascinating travesties:
The week continues with the barely-safe-for-work story out of the
U.S. Embassy in Kabul, a stately sounding locale revealed today
as a hotbed of alcohol-soaked homoeroticism. At the
center of the man-on-man action that may prove to be criminal sexual
harassment: ArmorGroup, the private firm hired by the State
Department to provide security at the Kabul embassy, where, as ABC News
reports, rookie guards were allegedly “pressured to participate in
naked pool parties and perform sex acts to gain promotions.” According
to 1 of the 12 ArmorGroup guards who have gone public with their
complaints, top supervisors were not only aware of the “deviant sexual
acts” but helped organize them. Last Days has viewed photographs of the
allegedly deviant acts—first revealed by the Project on
Government Oversight—and we can report these acts include
nipple-licking, water sports, and dudes taking vodka shots out of each
other’s buttcracks. “It was mostly the young guys fresh from the
military who were told they had to participate,” said the guard to ABC.
“They were not gay, but they knew what it took to get promoted.” The
day after tomorrow, the State Department will announce the firing of
eight guards and the resignation of two more.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3 Meanwhile in California: Today police
launched a homicide investigation into whoever set the
wildfire north of Los Angeles, which scorched 226 square miles,
destroyed dozens of homes, and killed two firefighters—and
has been confirmed as an act of arson. Meanwhile at L.A.’s
Forest Lawn Cemetery, the thoroughly extinguished Michael
Jackson was finally laid to rest, with a private service attended
by his family; his first wife, Lisa Marie Presley; Michael’s
young-friends-turned-adolescent-rejects Macaulay Culkin and
Corey Feldman; and fellow child-star-turned-adult-opiate-lover
Elizabeth Taylor. Condolences to all (especially Last Days’ best
friend Mindy, who was forced to evacuate her home due to that
terrifying wildfire).

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 4 The week continues with this horrifying
sentence from the Associated Press: “A U.S. jet blasted two fuel
tankers hijacked by the Taliban in northern Afghanistan, setting off a
huge fireball Friday that killed up to 90 people, including dozens of
civilians who had rushed to the scene to collect fuel.”

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5 In lighter news, today brought what
appeared to be the tapering off of the swine-flu outbreak at
Washington State University. Details come from the Associated
Press, which reports that the number of students reporting flu symptoms
has plummeted from roughly 150 a day to roughly 45 a day. In all, at
least 2,200 WSU students have gotten sick, with exactly zero of the
students requiring hospitalization. Hurrah.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6 The week ends with a refreshing dose of
litter-based
vigilante justice, courtesy of Hot Tipper
Shannon: “Early this evening, a craving for a jar of fake cheese
led me to City Market at Bellevue and Olive. A yellow cab was parked
out front, and to my dismay, the cabbie threw his mustard-covered
corn-dog tray out his window and onto the ground. I picked up said
mustard-covered corn-dog tray and politely said, ‘You dropped
this,’ then tossed it into his lap. The pissed cabbie proceeded to
throw the container back onto the street and speed away. I did
not get his cab number, but the nice employees in the market know him:
He’s an older, fat, white cabbie with black-rimmed glasses. He has a
fondness for corn dogs and is a lazy slob with mustard stains on his
crotch.”

Thanks to Ann Romano for covering this column during our time
away (and much love to Julie, Barbara, and Schneider). Send Hot Tips to
lastdays@thestranger.com.