Before we begin our weekly journey down the trail of tears that is The Stranger, let us pause to consider all the things that BRENDAN KILEY is not qualified to do. He should not be allowed to review theater, because he is not a talented thespian, director, or dramatic scholar. With his history of gas "huffing," he should not be allowed to report on any matters drug related. As a borderline illiterate, he should not be allowed to criticize books.
And yet Mr. Kiley does all these things. Even worse, he occasionally fancies himself a crime reporter, despite lacking any knowledge of or concern for the law. In this week's paper, his area of inexpertise is once again stretched to include territory that would be, very clearly, best left to the professionals at the Seattle Times. That journalistic institution would at least have the good taste to leave out the prurient photography, inserted here, no doubt, in a desperate attempt to attract lowest-common-denominator eyeballs. I could not tell you what Mr. Kiley hopes to achieve with this overlong essay, but I can tell you this: He would be much better off sticking to his pathetic theater "criticism," as that is so very easily ignored.
Speaking of inattentive children causing damage to the business of adults, CIENNA MADRID peppers her news story about a new alcohol initiative with a series of unreadable info-graphics—perhaps in hopes of convincing readers that she has some understanding of what she is saying. The alcohol initiative she is arguing against would support local businesses like Costco, so of course she tries to make a case against it, and suddenly The Stranger is in favor of state-run liquor stores. I would tell Miss Madrid to stick with humor writing, but, as she is also the guest writer for this week's edition of Last Days, we are provided with sobering evidence that she is not especially good at that, either. Perhaps it is not too late to pursue employment as a house cleaner?
At least Miss Madrid has more morals than one BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT, who offers up a booze-soaked tour of Victoria, BC. One wonders all through the circuitous and half-baked piece how Miss Clement, on the meager payment provided by The Stranger—I understand salaries are dipping as low as $25 a week, plus all the free marijuana you can carry out of Dan Savage's "secret stash"—managed to examine the bars and alcohol festival of Victoria. Finally, Miss Clement discloses that the whole thing is a publicity junket paid for by several Victoria tourist attractions. In other words, her piece is a sleazy version of a tourist pamphlet, sexed up with alcohol and, incomprehensibly but probably appropriately, ghouls. For shame, Miss Clement. For shame.