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.” 