The news just keeps on coming. Coming on the heels of last weekend's club crush in Chicago, Great White destroyed a club in Rhode Island with an indoor pyrotechnics display. The guitarist is among the missing and presumed dead. Which amuses me. Heh.

10 Dead, 100 Hurt in Huge R.I. Club Fire

By AMY FORLITI, Associated Press Writer

WEST WARWICK, R.I. - A huge fire engulfed a Rhode Island nightclub during a rock concert's pyrotechnics display, causing at least 10 deaths and 100 injuries, authorities said.


AP Photo


AP Photo
Slideshow: Rhode Island Nightclub Fire

Dozens Killed in R.I. Nightclub Fire
Fire Capt. Russell McGillivray said an estimated 10 to 20 people died. He said many of the victims were found in the front door area after they apparently frantically rushed to the exits. More were possibly trapped inside.

The blaze broke out at about 11 p.m. Thursday during a pyrotechnics display during a Great White concert at The Station in West Warwick, about 15 miles southwest of Providence. The club quickly went up in flames and little was left of the one-story building hours later.

"The place went up within a matter of two minutes," witness John Kudryk told the Providence Journal.

At least 100 people were taken to area hospitals including Rhode Island Hospital in Providence and Kent County Memorial Hospital in nearby Warwick, said Town Manager Wolfgang Bauer.

Paul Vanner, the club's sound technician and stage manager, said more than 300 people were at the concert. One person from the band was missing, he said.

Chaos erupted moments after the blaze broke out. Witnesses said dozens of people rushed toward the exit, and those who escaped were later seen staggering into a triage center. Rescuers carried dozens of people on stretchers.

Hundreds of firefighters and police from across the region and dozens of ambulances were on the scene. Rescuers were pulling badly injured victims from the fire as ladder trucks poured water over the flaming skeleton of the building.

"It was calm at first, everyone thought it was part of the act," said John DiMeo, who was sitting at the bar near the front door when the fire started. "It happened so fast."

Jack Russell, the lead singer of Great White, told WJAR-TV he checked with the club's manager before the show and the band's use of pyrotechnics was approved. He said he felt the heat of the flames while on stage.

"This place went up like the Fourth of July," he said.

Town Manager Wolfgang Bauer couldn't speculate on the specific cause, but said a flame from the pyrotechnics display hit styrofoam in the ceiling.

"Everbody knows there were pyrotechnics used in there," he said. "We found people in a corner of the building. So there are dead people in there."

Great White is a 1980s heavy metal band whose hits include "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" and "Rock Me." The concert also featured the Canadian group Fathead.

The fire comes four days after 21 people were killed and more than 50 injured during a stampede in a Chicago nightclub that began when a security guard used pepper spray to break up a fight.

Amusing interview with Joss Whedon. 100 questions. Amusing fact: Wheon is married. I thought he was gay. And no, you PC-types, he refers to the wife as she.

Best exchange:

78. Have you ever broken the law?

Mostly just kidnapping ...

Well, to brighten my day, I bought some art from Molly Kiely:



Good times.

Interesting footnote: inspired by the art purchase, I went to the Fantagraphics Books warehouse to buy some Molly Kiely comics. While there I ran into Ellen Forney, who was also there buying... Molly Kiely comics! Small world.

Quote of the day, from Roger Ebert: I am aware this is the second time in two weeks I have been compelled to quote Lear, but there are times when Eminem simply will not do.

Why would anyone name a club "Pickles"? Let alone a sex club? It's a world gone mad...

Swingers' club patrons sue BSO over raids, arrests in '99

BY NOAH BIERMAN
nbierman@herald.com

Four years after masked sheriff's deputies exposed Broward County's salacious swinging subculture to a national audience, the men and women in the clubs are suing the raiders of the private clubs.

''They were subject to numerous newspaper articles. They were subject to notoriety that they didn't bring to themselves,'' said Daniel Aaronson, part of a legal team representing two couples arrested in the raids. ``They believe they were wrongly arrested and their lives were put in disarray for no reason.''

Lawyers have filed a total of five lawsuits, on behalf of 10 people, against the Broward Sheriff's Office or individual deputies involved in raiding two swingers' clubs in January and February of 1999. The consenting adults want money for the humiliation they suffered. Three of the suits were filed within the past five weeks and all but one is in federal court.

The men and women are among 55 club patrons and employees arrested on lewdness charges by masked deputies carrying automatic weapons. None was found guilty of a crime and most of those arrested had their cases dropped by prosecutors.

Still, the arrests helped Jay Leno add a few jokes to his opening monologue. They gave 48 Hours viewers a scintillating reminder of the go-go 1970s, Broward County-style. And they created a stir in South Florida workplaces, forcing some people to leave jobs, accept transfers or avert stares.

Among the plaintiffs: Tonya Whyte, who claims she was put on administrative leave from her teaching job and that the state tried to decertify her. The plaintiffs also include Raymond Lynette Hall, both in law enforcement at the time of the arrests.

Teams of sheriffs deputies raided two clubs four years ago -- Trapeze II in Fort Lauderdale and Athena's Forum in Pompano Beach -- using undercover officers who wore towels and watched men and women take their clothes off and perform sexual acts.

Four of the 10 people suing admit they had sexual contact in the clubs.

Their lawsuits claim deputies made false arrests, because a judge ruled that someone other than a police officer has to be offended by allegedly lewd behavior to make it a crime. One couple, Lloyd and Alyse List, claim their rights were violated when deputies searched their personal belongings, including a locker assigned to Lloyd List.

Sheriff Ken Jenne's public information office was closed Monday and there was no comment from BSO about the lawsuits. After the raids, in a July 2000 interview, he said they were ordered by a subordinate without his knowledge.

The sheriff's office had conducted a similar raid in 1997, arresting 17 people at a club called Pickles. Two patrons sued the sheriff's office and settled for $5,000 and $6,000.

The 1999 raids became a cause celebre for the swinger culture, with a report in Playboy magazine and chatter on the Internet. Trapeze owner Alan Mostow's story was featured in a Hustler magazine story titled ``Revenge of the Florida Swingers.''

Beverly Pohl and Bruce Rogow, representing Jenne and the deputies, say the current batch of claims do not amount to false arrests. The deputies who made the arrests had probable cause to believe the men and women were breaking the law, Pohl said.

Although some of the plaintiffs denied sexual activity, officers consistently and explicitly described sexual activity in every case, she said. And even if they weren't engaging in sex, being in a lewd club is enough probable cause for an arrest, Rogow said.

Pohl and Rogow make an especially ironic defense team for the sheriff.

In the early 1990s, they sparred with former Broward County Sheriff Nick Navarro over the rap act 2 Live Crew, whose performances and records were labeled obscene by the former sheriff. Rogow sided with the rap group back then.

Pohl said this case is different: ``We made an assessment and felt that the sheriff has the better legal argument.''

................................................................

I've been sort of incommunicado the last few weeks. Busy at work, busy writing. I'm in charge of the Artist Trust Benefit Auction and Brunch, coming up this Sunday. If you're in Seattle this weekend, stop by! But there's a lot of stress doing it. Also preparing an application to curate a group show at Bumbershoot, Seattle's art festival. More on that if my application is accepted.

Anyway, I've been experimenting with drugs for my bipolar disorder. I go from depression, to anxiety, although on good days, the mania manifests as euphoria, which is a pleasant change of pace. My new medication, Effexor, initially made me feel better, but I was still having a little anxiety and depression. So they doubled my dose, which had interesting results. Pyschosis. I had no idea how crazy I could be, until a few weeks ago. Fits of rage, paranoia, I even found myself stalking some guy in a supermarket. In fairness, he dissed me. We were in line at checkout, he was three people behind me, I was next in line. A check stand opened, and the cashier invited the next in our line. Me. But this bastard rushed over, and so I had to wait. About a half hour later I realized I had followed him to another store, planning god knows what. Bad ju-ju. So, my doctor cut the dose a little, which brought back the symptoms it was supposed to treat, while continuing the psychosis.

Literally psychotic. So that was me. I was tapering off the Effexor. Apparently, the side effects of discontinuing Effexor are just like the side effects of taking it. In addition to the symptoms of depression and anxiety I was trying to treat, I was experience paranioa, nightmares, fits of rage, etc. And we have that auction coming up. This is not the week for me to fold. So I called my doctor, who is now on vacation. I had to negotiate with this nurse acting as the middle-man between me and some shrink. First, they say there's nothing that can be done. I am to deal with it. Then it was suggested that in order to prevent things from getting worse, I should keep taking the Effexor at my prescribed rate. I responded, well, I didn't consider it an acceptable approach to maintaining my current level of psychosis was a good solution, i.e. staying on a drug that was making me psychotic was a bad idea, even if going off it made it worse. So they said I should immediately stop taking it, and start taking my new meds. But what about this week? I asked. I cannot fold this week, I said. Can't I get happy pills to get me though the week? No, sez the medical establishment. There is no such thing; there are no happy pills. Really? respond I. What the fuck is Ativan? Librium? I'm losing my fucking mind here. It is then explained to me that the doctors don't consider those a good solution, becuase they're short-term, symptom-responsive medication, and highly addictive. I say to the nurse, okay, a couple things, and I'm sorry for raising my voice, and I'm trying not to yell. First, I don't give a goddman what the doctor's preference is, I give a shit about myself here, and I'm willing to risk a few short-term solutions to get me through the week. Second, talk to me about addiction when I'm coming for, i don't know, my SECOND prescription for this shit, not my first. Third, it is idiotic to tell me that keeping me is a psychotic state for the next seven to ten days is preferable in any way to prescribing some sort of immediate tranquilizer for the duration of the episode. That is just so gay. I get put on hold. The nurse returns from hold. Okay, two weeks worth of Clonezapam, whatever that is. They aren't get-you-high tranks, more make you feel normal. Which is fine by me.

Oh, fuck it. Here's a review of Minority Report. Or some thoughts, at least.

My mother purchased the dvd when I was back east for vacation. She actually got the full-screen edition, which answered the eternal question of who actually would buy one of those things. Anyway...

Luckily, it was a hit so my Philip K. Dick-inspired screenplay, Divine Invasions will make me rich, but I'm not sure it's worth seeing, otherwise. On its own terms as a summer thriller, the movie was fine, I guess, but as a Dick adaption, it was wanting. Spoilers follow, read if you dare.

It really isn't a Dickean nightmare if the system can be dishonestly manipulated by others against you. It's a Dickean nightmare if the system or reality itself is flawed, or if it turns against you or fucks up as a result of working properly.

The only flaws in pre-crime in the movie were as a result of user manipulation. If the minority reports were incorporated from the beginning, then it seemed like two dozen out of a couple hundred potential murderers would have been let off with a warning.

I was bothered by the lack of insight the psychics displayed. Could they distinguish between degrees of murder? When Tom Cruise shot the man, it was ultimately a suicide on the part of the victim, and I would think the pre-cogs would be able to identify the motives and reality behind the events, rather than projecting a purely visual display of the crime scene. If someone is going to stage a suicide to look like murder, and the psychics can't tell the difference, what good are they? In six years, you'd think it would have happened before. For a system dependent on psychic phenomena, it was used remarkably bluntly.

It seems like the filmmakers didn't think through the situation down to the details. How are actualy murders investigated or prosecuted, if at all? There certainly couldn't have been much of investigation into the other death pinned on him, otherwise detectives would have established that Cruise could not have committed the second murder he was blamed for, because he had a strong alibi, and his gun was in someone else's posession. Maybe it's my fault for thinking about it too much, but a movie needs to earn its suspension of disbelief, and MINORITY REPORT didn't.

I thought the rocket packs were a nice touch, actually; they seemed really crappy, in a Phil Dick kind of way. I like how the technology in Dick's stories seems to be carboard and scotch tape. In the story "Minority Report," the pre-crimes were reported as names on punch cards; the lack of nuance in the reporting is part of what propelled the plot.

My friend Erin Norlin has her website up and ready. She's really good. An excellent artist. Check it out! Look around, and you may find a hint of my Bumbershoot show...

Woke up this morning with light in my eyes
and then realized it was still dark outside
It was a light comin´down from the sky
I don´t know who or why

Must be those strangers that come every night
Whose saucers shaped light put people up tight
Leave blue green footprints that glow in the dark
I hope they get home all right

Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
I won´t do anything wrong
Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
for a ride

Woke up this mornin´, I was feeling quite weird
Had flies in my beer, my tooth paste was smeared
I opened my window, they´d written my name
said: "So long, we´ll see you again".

Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
I won´t do anything wrong
Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
for a ride

Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
I won´t do anything wrong
Hey Mr.Spaceman, won´t you please take me along
for a ride

Copyright @ 1966 Tickson Music
The Byrds "Fifth Dimension" LP Columbia Records 1966

I wish I had written this amazing Hunter Thompson-esque article about DC war protests. Beautiful stuff.

Some excerpts:

After all, one would be hard-pressed to think of any circumstance not involving a pro-government counter-demonstration in which 40 journalists from major news organizations would attend a 9 a.m. weekend rally involving 80 illiterate morons. To use the Russian expression, crayfish will whistle in the mountains before 80 environmentalists in a park on a Saturday morning draw so much as a college radio intern, much less 40 of the country's heaviest press hitters. The mere presence of so much press at MOVE-OUT was monstrous.

So when I arrived at the scene I thought it would be amusing to count the total number of journalists, as opposed to actual protesters. And wouldncha know it, some members of the working press were offended by the exercise.

"You shouldn't be doing that now," a bearded Reuters hack told me, after suffering the indignity of being counted. "It's too early. The bulk of the crowd won't show up until later. Like around ten-thirty."

"Well," I said. "The Washington Post said this thing was supposed to start at nine. It's now nine-thirty."

"The Post was wrong," the Reuters man snapped. "If you want to be honest, you'll do this later."

"Let me get this straight," I said. "You're actually worried that I'm going to undercount these yahoos?"

"I'm saying," he said, "that if you want to be fair, you'll count when the crowd really shows up."

Next to the Reuters man stood a young blonde woman in black horn-rimmed glasses who identified herself as a reporter for The New York Times. She didn't offer her name, but another reporter there later told me that she was an assistant to Times reporter Lynette Clemetson. She'd been listening to my exchange with the Reuters man and decided to chime in.

"And the important thing isn't the numbers," she said. "This demonstration has more Vietnam veterans."

I shook my head, stunned. "Are you kidding?" I said. "The other demonstration will have a hell of a lot more vets than this one, I'm sure of that."

She frowned. "No," she said. "That one's going to be mostly college students. Kids."

"Maybe so," I said. "But just in terms of sheer numbers.... I mean, even half a percent of 100,000 is going to be ten times more vets than we're seeing here. There are about fifty people here, for Christ's sake."

"No," she said, not convinced. "No, this one will have more."

A third personage, a scrawny redneck protester in a baseball cap and a Gore-Tex face guard, was listening in. "That's the slimiest journalism I've ever seen," he said, jumping in. "You're in here and you're going to count us before we're even here. You wait until ten-thirty, then you'll see how many of us there will be. You're yellow journalism scum."

"Settle down, Beavis," I said.

"You wait until ten-thirty, you liberal bastard," he said.

I shrugged and walked away. An hour later, after suffering through numerous historically confused speeches about our victories over fascists in France and our spectacular, as-yet-unrecognized military successes in Vietnam, I counted all over. The final tally, again, was 80 protesters and 40 journalists—and that included the five-man Guardian Angel security entourage that followed speaker Curtis Sliwa. I sought out Gore-Tex face in the crowd.

"Hey, Chester," I said. "Eighty to forty. Nice turnout."

"Fuck you," he hissed. "We represent the real America."

"You know," I said, "I once went to a Suzanne Somers book signing. There were like three hundred people there. It was a book of poetry."

"Fuck you," he repeated.

"Our troops have always been there for us," he said, "from the time of World War I, when our soldiers beat back the fascists in France...."

I turned to Paul. "France?" I said. "Fascists? What the fuck is he talking about?"

Paul shrugged. "Forget it," he said. "He's on a roll."

I turned around. Behind me there was a man in a mesh baseball hat and glasses listening with rapt attention to Martin and brandishing a lovingly hand-drawn sign that read, painfully, "DISARM SADAM." I moved over to him.

"You're missing a D," I said.

"What?" he said.

"'Saddam' is with two Ds," I said. "You're missing a D."

He looked down at his sign.

"Listen," he said. "I can spell it any ways I want. Faggot."

Boy, what a week this has been. On Monday, I personally melted my work's email and internet. Also, my medication was causing a psychotic reaction. So, updating this hasn't been on my mind lately. Next week look for reviews of Band of Outsiders, Battle Royale, Blue Crush, and hilarious tales of not being able to find end-of-week drugs. Coming soon.

Just in time for the opening of Confessions of a Dangerous Mind...



The Unknown Comic's Official Web Page!

EDIT: a more in depth viewing of the web page prompted this additional post:

Great news from CNN. Not only is the cloned cat not an exact replica of the the original, it looks nothing like her! Ha!

Rainbow, left, nuzzles the ear of "cc," her clone, on January 8.

So. Buffy last night. As much as like the the new classroom aspect, I'll admit, it was annoying to hear how many lectures? Four? Jesus. And if the chick from Freaks and Geeks could kill a vampire her first tie out with a flag pole, how come those other chicken shits have been cowering for the last five episodes? Fags. And I was waiting for someone to remind Dawn she was the frickin' KEY, for god's sake. She once had the power to destroy the universe, and she remains to this day a being of mystical energy incarnated as a human, with all of reality warped to keep her there. Not special? Please.

The Onion rocks again. Sure, this rips off a couple of my ideas, but what the hell, Koreans and giant robots make me laugh.

PYONGYANG, NORTH KOREA—Responding to mounting pressure and increasingly confrontational rhetoric from the outside world, North Korean president Kim Jong Il unfolded into a 70-foot-tall, 62-ton giant robot Monday.

Above: Kim Jong Il marches through the streets of Pyongyang.

"The DPRK's nuclear program is very much its own business, as is its right to determine its own path of security," said Kim, his torso splitting along ventral seams as clusters of Taepo-Dong ICBMs rose from his shoulders. "Any attempt by Washington to decide our fate will surely result in a sea of fire being unleashed upon them."

As his arms and legs sheathed themselves in bulletproof Mecha-Muscle telescoping outward from his chest, Kim reiterated his refusal to bow to international demands.

"Constant criticism from outside indicates mistrust of our promise to refrain from missile tests," said Kim, speaking over the mechanical shriek of wingblades sprouting from his back. "Only trust from the U.S. that we will keep our word can prevent World War III."

"The imperialist West is holding my country to standards which it does not see fit to meet itself," continued Kim, his voice now a metallic, digitized boom emanating from somewhere within the titanium helmet sheathing his head. "This does not surprise me, as they are well-famed for their lies."

"Pyongyang Dynamo Power Punch!" added Kim, as he released his fist-modules skyward with twin robotic uppercuts.

While the Bush Administration remains publicly confident that a diplomatic solution can be reached, top officials admit that the situation has become more complicated.

	Above: A South Korean border soldier eyes Kim Jong Il in the Demilitarized Zone.

"If we add Kim Jong Il's transformation into a giant robot to his already defiant isolationist stance and his country's known nuclear capability, the diplomatic terrain definitely becomes more rocky," U.S. envoy James Kelly said. "Kim has made it clear that, if sufficiently threatened, he will not hesitate to use nuclear weapons or his arm-mounted HyperBazooka."

Added Kelly: "We are also forced to consider the possibility that Kim may attempt to robo-meld with other members of the Axis of Evil, forming a MegaMecha-Optima-Robosoldier. Kim would make a powerful right arm—or even a torso—for such a mechanism."

During a visit Monday to the Demilitarized Zone dividing the Korean peninsula, Kim stressed that his transformation was not an act of aggression, but rather an attempt to defend his nation's autonomy.

"The DPRK must not be subject to the whims of an international coalition with no regard for the welfare of the Korean people," said Kim before stomping the ground with his foot, unleashing a devastating ring of energy that vaporized nearby reporters and military vehicles. "Catastrophic Valiant Kim-Chee Earthquake Stomp-Kick!"

What kind of cute are you?



I'm Mysterious Cute!!



Shy and complexed!
Just b/c I steer clear from crowds
doesn't mean I can't be cute!
People are drawn to my private and introverted life.
I'm quirky and one-in-a-million.

I was in tears bpwerks

I'm going to have to rip off this news story for my novel. This is the best news of the weird to come out of Seattle in a long time.

Voters may get to decide whether Eyman's a 'horse's ass'
Friday, January 17, 2003

By DAVID AMMONS
THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

OLYMPIA -- Washington voters may get to sound off on whether initiative guru Tim Eyman is "a horse's ass."

David Goldstein, a Seattle computer programmer and technical writer, is pushing an initiative that says "The citizens of the state of Washington do hereby proclaim that Tim Eyman is a horse's ass."

Eyman said he thinks the idea is hilarious, and should garner publicity for his own latest initiative.

"It's stupid and there is no reason in the world why people should be able to put an initiative like this on the ballot," Goldstein said in a telephone interview Thursday night.

"My goal is to promote change (in the initiative process) and to achieve that, I think we need to bring ridicule on the process, to make people aware of how easy it is to abuse.

"Any schmoe can go to Olympia and pay $5 and file an initiative. I'm the schmoe who did it this week. Whoever claimed I had any credibility? I wrote an initiative about a guy being a horse's ass."

Goldstein told The Spokesman-Review newspaper in Spokane his stunt is "a type of political theater." After the newspaper ran the story Thursday, talk radio picked it up and Goldstein's phone was swamped all day.

Tax rebel Eyman is the state's leading initiative sponsor. Voters have approved at least one of his initiatives each year for the past four years, starting with $30 car license tabs in 1999.

Goldstein's initiative, which has not yet been assigned a ballot title or number, said in part, "Tim Eyman's ill-conceived anti-tax initiatives are an irresponsible means of legislating tax policy, an abuse of the initiative process and an insult to our system of representative democracy."

Eyman got in trouble with the state last year when he acknowledged that he took more than $200,000 in previous campaign contributions as a salary fund. He had steadfastly described himself as an unpaid taxpayer advocate.

The initiative noted that Eyman said "I just feel like an ass" after he acknowledged taking the money.

The punch line is that, well, the voters agree with him.

Goldstein said the initiative started as a party conversation about Eyman and "about how self-serving and pandering initiatives have become.

"People think initiatives are well thought out, but they aren't. We just wanted to get something people would vote for. We wanted something funny and outrageous, bordering on profanity, but not profane, so it could go on the air or in print.

"The word `ass' is a problem, but if you modify it with `jack' or `horse,' it's not. It's funny. It's saying the guy's a fool."

Goldstein said he'll run "a parody of a Tim Eyman campaign," hoping to secure the necessary 200,000 voter signatures by early July to ensure a public vote in November.

He already has a campaign Web site, www.horsesass.org. The site said he'll skim off 20 percent of the proceeds for personal gain.

So far, he has collected $70.

His Web site said, "If you agree that the initiative process has become a joke, join us in getting the last laugh. With your help, we'll show Tim that he's not the only horse's ass who can get a spectacularly stupid initiative on the ballot."

Eyman called the measure "very pathetic," but said he's still laughing about it. He said he plans to buy "Tim is a horse's ass" T-shirts, hats and mugs from Goldstein.

Eyman said Goldstein is unwittingly helping him by calling more attention to Initiative 807, which would impose strict state government spending limits and require a two-thirds vote of both houses to raise taxes.

"The goal of any initiative sponsor is to get people talking about the initiative any way you can. When the opposition does your job for you, you gotta say 'thanks,' Eyman said, adding, "Calling names? That's their strategy? Oh, that's persuasive."

© 1998-2003 Seattle Post-Intelligencer

Today I was waiting for the bus. You know, just pacing around, back and forth, pretty much in place, letyting my mind wander as I waited. At one point, a woman stopped at the traffic light, and I sort of paced toward the street. She locked her door.