…during my enforced absence from Broadband Nation (not in chronological order):

Attended the informal outdoor wedding of print MISC contributor Michael Thomas and Sherry Wooten, with their precocious li’l one expressing approval of the whole proceeding.

Attended the Edmonds Waterfront Festival, a simple and unpretentious small-town fair with all the standard carny rides, craft booths, fast-food fads, beer gardens, and generic “blooze” bands.

Witnessed some of the commotion at the Convention Center on the day of Oprah WInfrey’s big $180-a-seat self-help seminar. The few other males on the scene included the crew of long-running cable access show Music Inner City, complete with “Oprah for President” stickers.

…to Raymond “Ras Bongo” Lindsay, the Lake City music-store owner and longtime staple of the local roots-music circuit, who was slain in an apparent domestic dispute. I’d only met Bongo offstage once, at his store (see above), but instantly sensed him as a gentle man of a centered sensibility.

TO AVE AND AVE NOT DEPT.: Last weekend’s University District Street Fair was supposed to have been the coming-out party for the completely rebuilt University Way. But, in traditional best-laid-plans fashion, the Ave’s northernmost big block (47th to 50th) remained closed and unpaved.

Ergo, the fair was shrunk to about 70 percent of its normal size. The audience’s size, and energy level, seemed even further reduced, despite decent weather. This may have befitted a neighborhood that was already stuck in the retail doldrums even before the totally traffic-closing construction scheme made it worse.

Some UW design students had a big display in the former Tower Records storefront, full of schemes to redo the Ave’s storefronts so they’d look all fresh and Euro-modern, not the funky/rundown amalgamation of low-rise architectures we all know and love.

Still, there’s something to be said for a reinvent-the-Ave campaign that comes out of a sense of creativity, that asks young adults (rather than corporate consulting firms) what a young-adult shopping street should look like, and that imagines plenty of spaces for independent businesses instead of the same ol’ dorky chains.

…since Planet Hollywood opened its first in-town Seattle outlet on Tuesday, run by the same regional franchisee whose Issaquah store’s become the target of sexual-harassment and racial-discriminaiton suits by Hispanic employees. I’ve no way of knowing whether the controversy dampened the Aurora branch’s opening-day hoopla, but I only had to stand in line 15 minutes (most of that time protected from the elements inside a logo-merchandise-filled tent).

Once inside, everyone got a free example of the chain’s signature product, the hot-glazed grease-and-sugar circle, fresh from the massive all-automated production line. It turns out to really be an extraordinary product, a ring of melt-away gooeyness that bears only a visual resemblance to a supermarket donut. (We refuse the pretentious “doughnut” for such an unpretentious product. We also don’t like how the flyer passed out to the patrons in line referred to the restaurant’s coffee-and-pop menu as a “beverage program.”) The same product, when served at room temperature, becomes a fluffy semisolid that hits you with a pronounced sugar rush after three bites.

Thus, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that the “greeter” lady who saw customers out the door reminded everyone that the store’s got a special unglazed version for diabetics.

The Krispy Kreme hype campaign is more than a publicity gimmick. It’s a vital aspect of the chain’s business plan as it expands from a cult-classic Southern regional circuit into a national powerhouse. The lowly donut stand has been a part of roadside and urban America for decades, but mainly in the form of independent operations (often immigrant-owned) or small regional chains. (Winchell’s and Dunkin’ Donuts have either scaled back or pulled out of their Norhwest regional operations.) Krispy Kreme has supersized the donut stand into a behemoth of relative Wal-Mart proportions (though each outlet is still little larger than McDonald’s largest urban branches). Everything about the restaurant, from the bright lighting to the cutesy T-shirts, reflects this re-imaging of a little ring of flour and lard into a destination entertainment experience.

Of course, the entertainment experience is taken to a new level by the franchisee’s current scandal. The combination of donuts and sleazy sex is such a rife opportunity for snickering jokes, which you are hereby allowed to imagine on your own. (Suggested premises: Holes, frosting, batter, mixers, beaters, roundness, crullers, dough, self-rising, “for here or to go,” drive-thru, cream filling, plain vs. chocolate, and, of course, sprinkles.)

THE LINE TO GET IN to the new Apple Store in Bellevue Square on its opening day this past Saturday was pleasant and intelligent. Macheads from all over the greater Puget Sound country lingered for as long as two hours to get the chance to buy their hardware and software factory-direct, to temporarily enter the source of theie beloved computing platform.

It was a gathering of the tribe, sharing lively conversation augmented by opened iBooks and PowerBooks. (The store has a free-access WiFi transmitter, also receivable from the nearby Nordstrom espresso stand.)

Inside the brightly lit, cleanly appointed store: Your basic hardware selection of laptops, desktops, monitors, MP3 players, printers, digital still and video cameras, etc.; two big wall displays of software boxes; a customer-service desk pop-pretentiously christened “The Genius Bar;” and big billboards promoting Apple’s new paid music-download service.

The Apple Store doesn’t have anything, with the possible exception of a few third-party software titles, you can’t get for the same price or less at The Computer Store, CompUSA, or other outlets, or online. No, the appeal of the Apple Store is the opportunity to immerse oneself in the brand, to experience Apple Computer as a tangible real-world thang and not just a presence inside the screen.

GOT BACK TO SEATTLE in time to see the last of the Maritime Festival and tugboat races on the waterfront.

JOSEPH P. KAHN TRIES TO EXPLAIN the rash of movie and product names starting with the letter “X.” No, it’s not so they’ll be listed first in reverse alphabetical order.

AS IF YOU HAVEN’T GUESSED IT, there’ve apparently been no big mass-destrux weapons caches in Iraq. Saddam really was only a threat to his own people.

THE MAJOR RECORD LABELS are rumored to be commissioning virus-type software programs that’d be posted within, or under the titles of, online music files, in order to instill fear into the hearts of MP3 traders. I’m old enough to vaguely remember when the record co.’s claimed to be rebels, or at least friendly vendors of rebellious attitudes. Today’s music monoliths might market one-dimensional celeb images of bad boys and naughty girls, but that’s no more “rebellious” than the sight of Republican politicians on Harleys.

TODAY WE BEGIN a new occasional photo series, Space Available, depicting some of the once-productive retail and office real estate currently made redundant by today’s economic collapse.

…went on in Seattle and other cities worldwide on Saturday, despite the war having been mostly turned into an occupation mission by the previous Thursday. As I’d expected it to be, it was a smaller affair with a greater concentration of the hardcore protest community, some of whom went “off topic” with speeches and signs about assorted other issues. It also attracted a couple of aged-male dittohead counter-protestors shouting, vehement but pre-practiced insults.

Yes, I still believe those of us who protested this war were right to have done so.

Saddam Hussein could’ve been restrained and/or removed without this life- and infrastructure-wasting tragedy. The twelve years of sanctions only kept him and his cronies iin power while impoverishing the rest of the nation. And the UN weapons inspections were working, it now turns out. Saddam was effectively a threat only to his own citizens.

Because Iraq’s government and institutions were designed solely to serve him, he leaves behind a big nothing, a land without a society except that of the US/UK occupation force and the long-simmering ethnicities and other revenge-minded factions.

Iraq might seem now like a big-budget version of Panama or Grenada, a quick-and-relatively-clean invasion/coup. But it puts the U.S. in what still might become a morass of Vietnam proportions.

We’re now going to create, and will have to keep propping up, a client state with powerful, permanent, internal and external opposition. The Republicans talk about promoting “democracy” there, but will certainly try to devise a system in which U.S. stooges and yes-men have all the power. The Islamic fundamentalists (whom Saddam was never one of) will exploit this at every opportunity. This could get messier and messier for years to come.

Antiwar “radicals” like to oversimplify geopolitical situations even more than prowar “conservatives” do. But complication is what we’re gonna get anyway.

Some side topics:

• That much-telecast image of a Saddam statue’s demolition was probably a staged media event created entirely by the US military, with a couple dozen Iraqis brought in as extras.
• Meanwhile, the situation in Afghanistan continues to deteriorate for everybody except US business interests.

AS YOU CAN TELL near the upper left corner of this page, our photo exhibit City Light, City Dark is now online, via the PhotoJo site. You’re all cordially invited to buy as many prints of as many images in the collection as you can fit above your couch, over your bed, and at any other revered place in your home or in the home of a loved one.

TODAY, SOME IMAGES from the past five days of local protests. As in the 1991 war, these were centered at the Federal Building. And as in the 1991 war, they tactically differed from the prewar protests.

The prewar protests included broad coalitions of groups, including labor unions and churches. They were devised to bring as many people as possible to one place at one time.

Last week’s protests were largely coordinated by the Radical Women/Freedom Socialist Party. They were devised as long vigils with a couple of extra highlighted gathering times (particularly Thursday evening). This diffused the number of potential participants, and emphasized the role of those for whom protesting is a year-round way of life.

That meant the speakers’ podium was dominated by dudes (almost all of whom were bearded) and dudettes who wanted to tie in the Iraq war with darned near everything else they didn’t like, from McDonald’s and health-care budget cuts to the capitalist system in general.

Even if we’re not doing this primarily for how it will look in the media, it’d still be to our advantage if it didn’t look like only the lifestyle-leftists still wanted peace. We need the experienced dedicated protestors; but we need to keep the rest of the populace in this as well. And that means bigger coalitions creating bigger events, which also recruit people from all walks-O-life into ongoing works in the more boring parts of the task (organizing, letter-writing, etc.)

IN OTHER NEWS, J.C. Penney had a commercial during the Oscars with average suburban young-women’s clothes modeled on screen while an off-screen singer proclaimed “I’m a One-Girl Revolution.” What if we had a 200-million-girl-and-boy revolution that was about something other than wearing different clothes?

What would an actual revolution be like today? What would be replaced, and what would it be replaced with? Any ideas? Lemme know.

HERE ARE SOME IMAGES of the most recent prewar, antiwar action.

“Hands Across Green Lake” didn’t actually span the entire 3.2-mile circumference of the lake. But hundreds crowded around the Aurora Avenue side of the lake, waving at honking supportive motorists and making one last stand, one last silent shout of hope that the abyss can be avoided.

…here again is the big news about our big art show opening this Thursday:

City Light, City Dark has been moved to the Nico Gallery, 619 Western Avenue, Second Floor (one floor lower than the previously advertised location, in the same building). It still opens next Thursday evening, March 6, 6-8 p.m.

The exhibit features grouped pairs of images depicting similar subjects. One photo in each pair is set in the tourists’ Seattle of sunny days and mellow smiles. The other photo takes place in the “other” Seattle of low overcasts, long nights, and defiant nightlife.

Be there. Aloha.

A FASHION DESIGNER of my acquaintance recently told me she thought antiwar protestors ought to dress up more smartly. She believes if you’re trying to persuade outsiders to your cause, you should be dressed to impress. Make a visual statement of your intelligence, dedication, and awareness. Nix-nix on the ragged jeans and stringy facial hair; oui-oui to happy, harmonious looks that say you demand a happier, more harmonious world.

This student, at a student-oriented antiwar protest Wednesday at Westlake Park, has the idea.

So, in her own silver-and-red way, does this young speaker.

The protest gathered young women and men from grade school to grad school and beyond, from throughout the metro area. They were informed; they were impassioned. They’d rather not have their own asses potentially put on the line for the benefit of a few billionaires, thank you.

This particular protestor really dressed up. The plaque reads, in part:

1 ring =

100 Iraqi children killed by

US bombs since 1991

Duration: one every second

for 100 minutes

IF YOU LIKE THE PHOTOS on my site, you should come to my art show (see above.) You’re also bound to love another Seattle photojournalism site, Buffonery. Despite the silly name, it’s a very accomplished site with gorgeous local architectural photography. It’s all done by Manuel Wanskasmith, a 22-year-old UW sociology grad, and it’s all fab.

UPDATE TO A LONG-AGO ITEM: A year and a half or so after we discussed the end of what had been my favorite Net-radio operation, Luxuria Music is back on line. Sort of.

Clear Channel Communications, the 8000-lb. gorilla of the broadcast radio biz, bought and promptly killed Luxuria, which played a sprightly mix of lounge, swing, space-age-bachelor-pad, and ’60s pop tuneage. One longstanding fan of the station later bought the domain name, and finally has a music stream online again.

The new Luxuria plays much the same sorts of cool stuff the old Luxuria played. But its post-dotcom–crash startup budget doesn’t allow for live DJs (a vital part of the old Lux mix). And its third-party server software has some stringent requirements (a Mac user such as myself can only access it via MS Internet Exploder) and seems to cut itself off, and crash your browser, after a half hour or so.

Still, it’s a start, or rather a re-start, for the kind of programming creativity you not only can’t get on commercial broadcast radio but you also can’t get on those highly-formatted commercial online, cable, and satellite music services.

FOR THE SECOND CONSECUTIVE YEAR, Pioneer Square was essentially declared an official No Fun Zone by city officials. Police permitted would-be revelers to enter and leave the three-block bar strip on First Avenue South, but not to linger on sidewalks or to make spectacles of themselves.

The above shot is the only “crowd” picture I could get. It was a close-up of the tiny stretch of sidewalk from the J&M to Larry’s Greenfront. Many PioSq bars were closed altogether; those that opened had little more than their regular lineup of “blooze” bands.

The “mandatory mellowness” attitude of the Seattle civic establishment never cared for rock n’ roll nor for festiveness. The 2001 Mardi Gras, a spontaneous and unplanned street party that begat several drunken fights and a fatal beating, only affirmed the anti-fun resolve. It will be up to We The People to take back the streets for revelry as well as for political speech. But it’d have to be thru an event that’s just organized enough as to prevent/discourage violence.

As I said after the ’01 debacle: Plan it, don’t ban it.

…City Light, City Dark, has been moved to the Nico Gallery, 619 Western Avenue, Second Floor (one door down from the previously advertised location). It still opens next Thursday evening, March 6, 6-8 p.m.

The exhibit features grouped pairs of images depicting similar subjects. One photo in each pair is set in the tourists’ Seattle of sunny days and mellow smiles. The other photo takes place in the “other” Seattle of low overcasts, long nights, and defiant nightlife.

Be there. Aloha.

It just so happened that the big rally starting off Saturday’s peace march took place outside Fisher Pavilion (where the Flag Plaza used to be). Inside the pavilion was Festival Sundiata, an annual African American crafts and culture fair. That was the reason Philly’s Best, the black-owned cheesesteak house at 23rd & Union, brought its mobile van there that day.

Its delectable sandwiches happened to be the perfect peace-march meal—hearty, flavorful, made with person-to-person care by an independent business, and named for the birthplace of modern democracy.

The march attracted at least 30,000 people and possibly many more. The police kept to themselves. The marchers were remarkably upbeat. There was such a vibe of togetherness and optimism, one wishes the march had led to a closing rally-party in a park rather than merely to a dispersal point in front of the INS jailhouse.

The question remains: Did anybody in power pay attention to the thousands marching here, and the millions marching worldwide?

We can be reasonably certain the Bush goon squad has privately pooh-poohed all the protests as the impotent work of a few scattered ’60s relics who refuse to get with the proverbial program. The professional bigots on hate-talk radio and the Fox Fiction Channel are assuredly poring over their theasauri this afternoon, devising newer and meaner epithets to hurl against anybody who dares to question instead of obey.

But Saturday’s events prove more and more of us refuse to be cowed by the fearmongers.

We can stand up and resist. We can answer deliberate fear with compassionate love.

Even if the near-right Democrats are afraid to come along, we can let them know it’s in their best electoral interest to listen to us.

We can encourage individual Republican politicians to break off from the hate machine if they’re ever going to win another “swing district” election.

We close today with a line from the ineptly directed, but politically prescient, Attack of the Clones:

“The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it.”

THIS, MY FRIENDS, is an unretouched, un-Photoshopped snapshot of the south entrance to Northgate from behind a car windshield during today’s torrential downpour, which helped cause a half-dozen or more crashes along an I-5 that got backed up for about seven miles. But unlike most of our rainstorms, this one did its thang then went away, leaving sunny skies and 54-degree temps (warm enough to melt snow in the mountains, leading to big flood potentialities in the lowlands.)

EVERY YEAR SINCE 1949, the homeowners of NE Park Lane in Seattle’s Ravenna neighborhood have turned their curving one-block street into “Candy Cane Lane.” Every house is spectacularly decorated, many according to an annual theme.

This year’s highly appropriate theme: “Peace on Earth.” Each house’s decorative tableau was accompanied by a sign reading PEACE in a different language.

I can think of no better message to express this season.

And unlike so many things wished for, peace never goes out of style.

It is my own wish for this troubled world, and my wish for all of you.

It’s been about a month and a half since we last had a new photo essay on the site. So let’s get caught up, starting with the ever-fiscally-important day after Thanksgiving. This particular day started in downtown Seattle the way most days start, with men waiting for the temporary main library to open. Some of these men are homeless, seeking a place to sit indoors while the shelters are closed. Others are simply retired or unemployed, seeking a morning’s worth of free entertainment and/or learning.

The “Buy Nothing Day” kids were out in force, denouncing squaresville commercialism without positing any positive alternatives. The sign depicted above was made, and then defaced, by a fan of Adbusters magazine pretending to be a conservative.

(Left-wing parodies of right-wing attitudes almost always get it wrong—nobody on the right ever speaks specifically for such lefty-insult terms as “commodification ” or “patriarchy.” Right-wing parodists are, natch, just as errant about lefty attitudes, wrongly imagining that anybody would speak in favor of such righty-insult terms as “special rights” or “takings.”)

Outside the Bon Marche, a busy crew was handing out free samples of Krispy Kreme donuts (I refuse to use the more formal “doughnut” for such an informal snack food). The chain, which in recent years has generated media hype far beyond its size (still fewer than 150 branches nationally, concentrated in the south) has been ringing Seattle’s far suburbs and will open its first in-town branch next year.

No snack product could live up to Krispy Kreme’s hype. But it is an impressive product. Its lightness, fresh aroma, and melt-in-your-mouth texture all belie the massive sugar rush that hits you after six bites.

One lady did offer a proactive alternative to the bigtime shopping mania, and didn’t need Photoshop to make it.

Among those who didn’t heed, or didn’t see, that lady’s message: The nearly 100 who camped out in anticipation of the Adidas Store’s moonlight sale.

THE NIGHT OF DEC. 7 featured hundreds of holiday parties around town. The one I went to was the opening of 13 Fridas, 13 Years, 13 Days, at muralist James Crespinel’s studio-gallery in Belltown.

Crespinel has been painting his own impressions of Frida Klaho over the years, and displayed some of them as a tie-in to the movie and the Seattle Art Museum’s current Mexican-impressionism exhibit.

The opening was a stupendous gala with authentic Mexi-snacks, singers (including our ol’ pal Yva Las Vegas, above), and dancers (below).

Later that same night, a somewhat different tribute to strength and beauty was offered at the nearby Rendezvous by the Burning Hearts burlesque troupe. This is one of the seven ladies who paraded around in whimsical mini-attire for a surly drunken Santa.

Other St. Nicks of all assorted sizes, shapes, and demeanors cavorted about the greater downtown area as part of the annual NIght of 1,000 Santas spectacle, enacted in cities across North America.