Oh, Seattle. Every time you make it into the national spotlight, it's just more and more embarrassing.
PM Video: Jon Stewart on Seattle's Jobs Plan
NY Times: Hey, Mark Zuckerberg is Just Like Bill Gates!
For the first time ever in the history of the universe, someone has drawn a few parallels between the ascent of Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg and our own Bill Gates with Microsoft back in the day.
Seattle's Rally to Restore Sanity a Civil Way to Say "We're Pissed"
The Seattle satellite of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert's "Rally to Restore Sanity" on the National Mall in Washington, DC was a drizzly affair, but a civil one. Participants sent out whispered chants of "turn it down" and brandished some excellent homemade signs.
Your Boyfriend Jon Stewart Will Not be in Seattle this Weekend
Fear not (or a lot!) those who can’t afford a trip out to Washington, DC for the Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert rally on the National Mall this Saturday. Seattle joins a whopping 932 cities with organizers planning meetups and/or rallies of their own.
Starbucks Now Owns Joe Scarborough's Republican Ass
From the Daily Show last night. Starbucks mating with Morning Joe starts at 1:15. Is this what's going on at Q13?
Baconnaise on The Daily Show
Bacon is a $2 billion industry in America. Jimmy Dean lives in half of all home refrigerators; rashers of Swift are consumed in astounding quantities, and never more than in these tough times. Bacon consumption is up, over the past ten years, by a pound per person (to 17.9 pounds for every man, woman and child in the country). And how are restaurants responding? Duh, pass the bacon! Bacon on burgers, steaks, pancakes, in sandwiches, even woven into a tapestry upon which more bacon-laden foods can be served.
Jeff Bezos Brings His Kindle 2, Creepy Laugh to The Daily Show
Amazon head honcho Jeff Bezos, with his cueball head and giraffe neck, appeared on the Daily Show last night to shill for his high-falutin' e-book reader:
Get Out Sunday: The Academy Awards at the Bottleneck Lounge
It seems like it was just last week that we were gushing over the Bottleneck Lounge. Oh yeah, that was just last week. Well, we're talking about them again. In honor of the Gay Superbowl, the Central District bar is hosting a party:
Seattlest Roundtable: The Oscars
Yes, they're overblown and sure, it's tiring to watch 4+ hours of Hollywood patting itself on the back, but it's the Academy Awards, fer fuckssake. We can't not watch Sunday's big show. From the red carpet fashion to the drawn-out musical numbers to the people-who've-died montage and the Academy's tribute to gaffers, the Oscars offer something for everyone. Plus, this year it's hosted by Jon Stewart and, though his comedy is not exactly made for Hollywood insiders, we still love that wee little funnyman. (Fact: Jon Stewart is approximately Oscar-sized.)
Barbosa Instead of Ridnour? Could've Happened. Should've Happened. If Dwayne Casey Had His Way, Would've Happened.
True Hoop's been running a fascinating serial written by Gregory Dole, who was Leandro Barbosa's interpreter when he worked out with NBA teams before the 2003 draft. Part IV talks about Barbosa's work out with the Sonics, wherein he wowed the top of the Sonics' org chart, including then-poobah Howard Schultz. Barbosa had a great workout, hitting his shots, blowing past defenders, and unleashing a nasty crossover that caused Kirk Hinrich to fall on his ass. Then he hurt his hip running a sprint, and here's where Dole's account gets depressing.
Many agility tests later with the team doctor, and we are sitting in the reception area waiting to go back to the hotel. Leandrinho has a pack of ice on his hip. Nate McMillan walks by and idly jokes, "I hope you don't get to work out for any other club! You played great today. I hope you fall to us."more ›
All The News
--Spokane loved its ice skating event and apparently the ice skating event loved Spokane back.
The Best Take on the Rejected Four-Foot Rule
Idea borrowed entirely from Jon Stewart on last night's Daily Show.
Whatever You Do, Don't Kill His Cat
We called Elliot Bay Books last week in advance of John Hodgman's reading, and asked whether they thought it would be crowded. Should we show up early, now that he's all famous and whatnot? Not a bad idea, they said, maybe 7pm. The reading was to start at 7:30. We strolled into EBB as the clock struck 7, and our heart sank into our feet as we spied the line at the bottom of the spiral staircase, making its own spiral all the way through the cafe next to the reading room in the basement. Luckily, Seattlest Jack and Audrey were wiser than we are, and had arrived even earlier, securing our seats three rows back, just left of center.
Clever: Thom Pain's Rep Audience
As Brooklynite Will Eno has written the play, we were specifically instructed by it not to call it "clever." So in the spirit of the thing, we've added confusing punctuation. We won't spend much time reviewing it, because the play (being based on nothing) is less important than who can stand it.
Stalk of the Town
What's Seattlest doing this weekend? What isn't Seattlest doing this weekend?
Seattle, Mon Amour
Bernard-Henri Levy occupies a position in France roughly comparable to...well, we don't have anyone like him. Rock star Bono comes close. Jon Stewart, maybe, except that BHL writes his own material. Sporting an unruly haircut, clad in the requisite uniform (black shirt, black blazer), he's a familiar figure on French TV, the embodiment of the Public Intellectual. Atlantic Monthly sent him on a year-long assignment to retrace the intellectual journey taken by de Tocqueville; the resulting tome, American Vertigo, has just been published, and BHL came to Seattle as part of the book tour.
Seattlest In The Stranger Today
We figure you probably gave up on dead tree media in the 90s sometime and now proudly boast to all three readers of your blog that you get all your news either online or from the smirking mouth of Jon Stewart. Us too! You're just like us, which is why we feel such loathing and contempt LOVE for you. Pick up a paper copy of The Stranger today, though. You remember where they are: In those big metal boxes on the street and shimmied under that short leg of the wobbly table at your cafe.

