8/91 Misc. Newsletter

Spend A Night in the “Night Gallery”

Welcome back to a midsummer night’s Misc., the pop-culture newsletter that’s highly disappointed now that we don’t get to hear mega-metal concerts at the never-to-be Ackerley Arena. We’re also bemused by the recent flap that Chief Sealth (the Milli Vanilli of the 1850s) never spoke about buffalo and railroads (which he never saw) and may not have said all attributed to him in the famous 1887-published translation of an 1854 speech. Hate to disillusion you, but folks often get famous for things they never actually said (Jesus never spoke in King James English, Bogart never said “Play It Again Sam”). Sealth has become a figure around which a body of ideas has coalesced — the best way for anyone to become immortal.

AN AROMATIC PROPOSAL, BUT SHORT ON BODY: Ste. Michelle and its sister winery Columbia Crest want the Feds to OK “Pacific Coast” as an official appellation for wines blended from Washington, Oregon, and/or California grapes. (Presently, wines with grapes from more than one state have to be called “American”.) A winery spokesperson admitted that the requested name is part of a plan to promote Washington wines to foreign markets far more familiar with Calif. product.

THORNS: KIRO showed a Seattle secretary who was “blessed” with the delivery of over 650 red roses and dozens of red balloons to her office cubicle on 6/26, from a boyfriend who wanted to become a husband. In a switch from most extravagant-surprise wedding proposals you hear about on the TV news, she said no.

ELSEWHERE IN CUPIDLAND: Successful Singles, the high-priced dating service with questionnaire-membership forms at every steak and pancake restaurant in town, was sued by a Denver man who sez they kept setting him up w/totally the wrong kind of woman. He put on his membership form that he didn’t want a woman who was obsessed with money, yet his arranged dates would ask immediately how much he made.

OFF KEY: The Big 6 multinational record companies want Congress to ban all independent importation of music, claiming some line about stopping “bootlegs” when they really just want to stamp out all imports and the independent stores that sell them. Even worse, the majors might be so eager to get an anti-import bill that they might make a deal with the pro-censorship forces in return.

SPROCKETS: Joel Siegel, the worst national critic since Dixie Whatley, called The Naked Gun 2 1/2 “Every bit as funny as The Naked Gun 1 and 2.” He didn’t even realize that there was no Naked Gun 2.

“LOVE PARTY” BUSTED: Police were quick to halt the BYOB disco affair at the Georgetown steam plant in late June, but decidedly less speedy responding to the rioting and looting by disgruntled patrons at the 2nd Ave. hat store where the tickets were sold. The store may not recover from the losses and damages.

WHAT I DID THIS SUMMER: Went to Vancouver briefly. Heard a Quebecoise newswoman talking about Slovenia. Saw the CD jukebox at the Cruel Elephant rock club with the sign LOONIES ONLY (the $1 coin with a loon on it). Missed the Grocery Hall of Fame in the warehouse district of Richmond. Heard horror stories about Hong Kong investors deliberately hyper-inflating real estate prices for money-transfer purposes. Read about third-generation Chinese-Canadians facing hate attacks even tho’ they’ve no connection to the financiers.

WHAT ELSE I DID THIS SUMMER: Visited San Francisco, “The City” to which all others are compared (by its own boosters), almost as packed as Tokyo but less civil, where they stare you down if you mistakenly call the Muni Metro a “subway.” I now understand why Bay Areans never look at Seattle for anything we’re really like but for their own fantasies; since our houses have lawns, by their standards we’re a small-town paradise. Any illusions about the self-proclaimed intellectual apex of the hemisphere vanished when I overheard the staff at City Lights Books discussing which was the best theater to see Terminator 2 at! On the plus side, environmental group Urban Habitat has an “Eco-Rap” contest, to help rid the image of ecologists as only white college grads. And H. Caen, whose local columns are clipped and framed in the hundreds of stores and restaurants he plugs, had a great essay on how he misses the SF of Tony Bennett’s song, but realizes that era’s “urbane sophistication” hid a lot of sins, principally corruption and racism. He singlehandedly broke my image of San Franciscans as a people eager to bitch about everyone else in America but unwilling to take even valid criticism of their own town. All in all, a nicer tourist trap than most, with bookstores almost as good as ours, a bagel deli on every block, a decent handful of non-oldies clubs, and two Spanish TV stations. But I’m still gonna call it Friscoany damn time I want to.

(Everybody I met there, by the way, said they’d heard Seattle was “really a cool place,” but couldn’t say why. Came back to find that somebody made a passage from the July Misc. into a street poster, without credit.)

FRAMED: Big cost overruns plague the new Seattle Art Museum, as they so often do with such more officially respectable uses of taxpayer money as Stealth bombers. The contractor calls the Robt. Venturi design “unconstructible.” And I thought it was another concrete box with superficial decorative reliefs. But the P-I sez it’ll be a definitive architectural statement of the late 20th century, the first major US building by a guy whose writings have inspired many architects but himself hasn’t won many bids (well, actually it’s mostly by his design staff).

IN THE (COURT) HOUSE: Sir Mix-A-Lot’s got a nasty feud with his ex-label, Nastymix. Following two albums that were the first locally-produced-and-recorded million sellers ever (or at least since the Fleetwoods in 1960), Mix-A-Lot (a.k.a. Anthony Ray, who presumably took his stage name to avoid confusion with second-string big band leader Ray Anthony) accused Nastymix of cheating him and exploiting what had essentially been a “handshake” contract. Nastymix countersued to block Mix-A-Lot’s jump to a major label.

KNOCK ON WOOD: The Chicago Tribune said on 6/27 that lumber companies have suddenly, jointly raised wholesale prices 20 to 30 percent nationally, blaming the increase on the spotted-owl decision. Their aim, the paper implies, is to raise new-home prices enough that John Q. Middleclass will beg Congress to give the timber biz all the environmental excuses it wants, maybe even to scuttle the Endangered Species Act.

JUNK FOOD OF THE MONTH: General Mills Pop Qwiz is a new microwave popcorn for kids, in more colors than Trix (red, blue, orange, yellow, green, purple). There’s games and trivia quizzes in every box, to enjoy while hiding from parents yelling about who stunk up the house with imitation-butter-flavor smell.

SLOGAN OF THE MONTH (on a Diamond Parking receipt): “Park where you are invited and welcome.”

DEAD AIR: Another piece of our broadcast heritage dies as KJR moves to sports-talk and phases out its music (which had become an oldies-laden ghost of its old energetic Top 40 image). Space prohibits us from going into the legacy of KJR’s DJs, its onetime support for local music, its impact on anyone who grew up here followed by the shamefully bigoted anti-youth ads of its oldies phase, which were thankfully dropped.

BRAND NEW KEY DEPT.: A New York company has come up with the latest necessity for the single woman: Lady’s Choice, a“talking keychain” that “tells” men in bars whether you want them or not. By pressing one of five areas, you make the keychain give out digitized sounds saying “Get Lost,” “You’re A Loser,” “Nice Buns!,” or “What A Hunk!” or a random selection of the four. It’s made in China, where prearranged marriages are still the norm….

The 7/17 Newsweek ran a tabloidy “shocker” proclaiming that many teenage females actually like sex and will assertively seek out boys who will provide it. While I haven’t known any suck women (for good or ill), it doesn’t surprise me that a new generation of women, comfortable with the disciplines of safe sex and weaned on ideologies of gratification (advertising, rock music), would find anti-sex “morality” (of the prudish right or the puritan left) worthless and self-defeating. (This is all a gross overgeneralization of a complicated topic, but so was the original article.)

BEST PART OF THE FIREWORKS: KING-FM’s biplane banners buzzing all around Lake Union; all classical stations should promote themselves in such populist ways. Worst part (besides the Coca-Cola war exploitation ad): The two-hour traffic jam, tying up every road that remotely led to a freeway on-ramp. If Seattle really had the vibrant nightlife scene so many of us have longed for, we’d have traffic this bad every Fri. and Sat. night.

BUYING THE FARM: A strawberry farm where I spent many an extremely boring summer afternoon will be closed, flooded, and brokered to developers wanting to trade wetland-preservation rights so they can build elsewhere. The Chicago Board of Trade, meanwhile, will soon start trading in pollution-rights futures….

THE BYTE BIZ: IBM and Apple, longtime sworn nemeses, are getting together to create the next generation of computer software (and the next generation of computers to run it). The deal is as disillusioning to Apple consignetti as the Hitler-Stalin pact was to US socialists. Apple was originally perceived as the triumph of sci-fi loving, T-shirt wearing techno hippies against the blue-suit mentality of IBM. In reality, Apple was fueled by Porsche-driving venture capitalists and got more corporate oriented every year, making great machines that it only wanted the rich to own; until it grudgingly cut prices last year (and laid off thousands to keep profits up). The one thing Apple still has going for it is superior engineering, particularly in software; now, the system that will replace the Mac in the mid-’90s will be available to IBM and others. The move also creates a software giant to rival (perhaps supplant) Microsoft (some computer insiders would jealously love to see it).

LOCAL PUBLICATION OF THE MONTH: Belltown’s Brain Fever Dispatch is a funky bimonthly report on the slow strangulation of the latest “artists’ neighborhood” to be overrun by predatory developers, including the impending death-by-upscaling of the Cornelius Apts., immortalized in Holly Tuttle’s “Life at the Edge Apartments” strip in the early-’80s National Lampoon. (I wrote this weeks before they published an issue plugging me.)

THE UNTOLD STORY: A downtown dept. store was evacuated shortly before noon on 7/2, due to a small interior fire. I know this only because I was there; I found no story about it (correct me, please) in the papers that depend on its ads. I was so looking forward to a headline about how it was such a perfect summer’s day for a bon fire.

BALLARD HIGH TO BE REPLACED: No matter what building it’s in, the heritage will continue of pubescent frosh giggling at the team name (hint: it’s the same as Oregon State‘s).

‘TIL WE MEET AGAIN IN SEPTEMBER, tell KCTS to stop being such total toadies to big business, join the drive to save the historic Everett Theater, and recall these words from Richard Amidon’s Selling Yourself Raw, a new book on the poetic side of salesmanship: “I want to make love to your gullibility.”

PASSAGE

Newfoundland columnist Ray Guy, quoted in the Toronto Globe and Mail about his fellow Canadians: “Of all the foolish, silly, pitiful crowd who ever dabbled in the ‘country’ game, that lot is it…. I don’t think I ever met a Canadian I didn’t like, and that’s about as bad a thing as I can think of to say about anyone.”

SPECIAL EVENT

I’ll be appearing at COCA’s Night Gallery reading series, 8 p.m. Wed., Aug. 28 at 1305 1st Ave. Also on the bill: Gillian “Johnny Renton” Gaar with parts of her new book on female rockers. Info: 682-4568.

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WORD-O-MONTH

“Lambent”

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