I have been informed that DAVID SCHMADER is going to host something
called “The Stranger Gong Show,” in which the more depraved and twisted
citizens of Seattle parade their lack of talent in front of an audience
of like-minded communists and recidivists. Apparently, as with all
carny freak shows, there is a “hitch,” or a gimmick, to keep those with
short attention spans interested in the proceedings. In this case, the
gimmick is that once the audience becomes sufficiently bored with the
act, it loudly begs for Mr. Schmader to sound a large gong to indicate
that the act has failed to entertain and so must cease immediately.

This is, of course, an entertainment for the simpleminded, but I
have decided to, as the uneducated are wont to say, “give” The
Stranger “a taste of its own medicine” by “gonging” stories in this
week’s issue once they cease to entertain, inform, or amuse.

In the section of the paper ostensibly set aside for “news,” ERICA
C. BARNETT and JONAH SPANGENTHAL-LEE (I am forcibly restraining my gong
hand here based on the names involved alone) discuss the perils of
swine flu and ask what the government is doing to protect the general
population of Seattle. Since when did it become the government’s job to
make sure that the citizenry washes its filthy hands and stops sneezing
all over one another? GONG! And DOMINIC HOLDEN roundly disparages my
good friend Gary Randall, going so far as to insinuate that he is a
liar, plagiarist, and tax evader. For shame, Mr. Holden. I haven’t seen
journalism this sickly yellow since the last major pandemic, back in
1918. A hearty and heartfelt GONG! for you.

Also in this issue are the results of The Stranger‘s annual
“human” sexuality survey, in which we allegedly learn the boudoir
habits of Stranger readers. However, as nobody in their right
mind would submit delicate personal information to this untrustworthy
rag, it is obvious that this is forgery, intended to fool the populace
into believing that the majority of people, behind closed doors, think
that sodomy, bestiality, and positions other than missionary are decent
and commonly practiced acts. It is a glaringly obvious ruse. GONG!

In the section that used to be devoted, however misguidedly, to the
enjoyment of literature, PAUL CONSTANT visits a few smarmy shops that
sell cartoon strips. To adults. GONG! MEGAN SELING scribbles a glowing
tribute to a quiescently frozen food. This would be an interesting
article if it were not (a) entirely about a dessert item and (b)
written by Ms. Seling. GONG! In the visual-art section of the hobo
wrapper, LINDY WEST: GONG!

It is commonly understood that even children and, occasionally,
simians can accidentally stumble across a good and useful idea that
intelligent adults can employ. I think that, in this case, Mr.
Schmader’s gongery might perhaps be one such idea. I have never had
such a pleasant time skimming an issue of this pedantic
tabloid—which, taken as a whole, gets a final and most fulsome
GONG!