BANG! vol. I, no. 4

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October Twenty-ninth, Two-thousand-ten

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Volume One, Number Four

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Free Newspaper

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Published every other Wednesday

C OM P E N D I VM M A L E F I C A RVM

n quo agitur de diuerſis generibus Maleficiorum, & de quibuſdam alijs ſcitu dignis.

Consuenere Sagæ, & Malefici, alios potione, malo carmine, & certis ritibus ſoporare, vt interea illis venenum infundant, vel infantulos rapiant, aut necent, vel ſurto quid subtrahant, vel ſtupro.

Volume I, number 4 BANGIN' IT OUT EVERY OTHER HUMPDAY

CONTENT. NEWS EATS FASHION HORROR ARTS MUSIC HOROSCOPES

3 5 6 7 9 11 15

Missives from the Bangery.

W

elcome to the dark time. Traditionally a time to go indoors, retreat from the weather, and turn within. A time to dream and plan and create.

We here at the Bangery are looking forward to nights in front of the fire (so, if you have one, you should let us know!) and the type of inside events that bring us all…closer. In fact, this Saturday, the 30th, we’ll be squeezing so many folks into our Halloween party/haunted haus that we’ll be compelled to make new friends. So you should come, and use the chance to dress yourself in pure make-believe.

BANG! GANG MANAGING EDITOR

ART DIRECTOR

ARTS EDITOR

NEWS EDITOR

BRONWYNN MANAOIS

STEVEN WEEKS

SEAN ÄABERG

DANTE ZÚÑIGA-WEST

MUSIC EDITOR

COLLIN GERBER, RICHARD D OWENS SALES AND MARKETING

MARK SULLIVAN

CONTRIBUTORS

KATIE ÄABERG, IAN AXE, ALLISON DITSON, AMELIA HART, MEGAN HINKEL, lane kagay, JOSIAH MANKOFSKY, RYAn newberg, tim shaw, AARON SULLIVAN, TIM SULLIVAN, JASUN WELLMAN BANG PAPER 385 W. 2nd Ave. Eugene, OR 97401

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ADVERTISING INFORMATION ads@bangpaper.com (541) 337-3926 GENERAL INQUIRIES editor@bangpaper.com Printed by Western Oregon Web Press, Albany, OR © 2010 BANG Paper, LLC. The content herein may not be reprinted in part or in whole without the written consent of the publisher. Thank you.

Who will you be? Are you the slap something together type, or will you give others a clue as to your alter-ego?—the fiction that you embody as fact, the phantasm that intrudes on your most intimate bonds.

In the past, I’ve scoffed at witch costumes as an easy way out. Now I know better.

Witches are a force to be reckoned with.

They cause alarm and confusion wherever they appear. The witch is a relic with her roots in a bleak past, and she is contemporary as last night’s bad dream.

The word itself conjures up so many meanings and emotions. How can any young girl who dons the pointy hat and broomstick know that they are carrying centuries of oppression, legalized murder and gross misunderstanding? My young, witchy self was sold on the forbidden knowledge (yeah, raised Catholic) ,the raucous laughter and cursing. Bad girl power. Are not all women, by their nature, full of wiles and snares?

Each one capable of influencing men’s minds, bodies and souls? Every woman is at heart a witch. Ambitious women are downright scary.

Be careful out there this Halloween.

Bronwynn Write to me! Tell me what you were (or are!) EDITOR@BANGPAPER.COM

EVERY OTHER WEDNESDAY NEWS BRIEFS

THURSDAY, 10/14

Cognac enthusiast T.I. found himself playing the role of hero today, when he helped coax a suicidal man from the ledge of a 22-story building in downtown Atlanta. Upon hearing about the situation on the radio, the rapper drove to the building and offered his assistance to the responding authorities. After recording a cell phone video (which was relayed to man-on-roof) to prove that the rapper was in fact there, the jumper agreed to come down in exchange for a few minutes with T.I., on the condition that he finally turn off that goddamn Auto-Tune.

Friday, 10/15

In a move sure to kill the high of millions of Californians, Attorney General Eric Holder and the Justice Department issued a statement today affirming their adherence to the enforcement of federal pot laws, even if California votes on November 2 to approve Proposition 19. If passed, the ballot measure would legalize pot for recreational use, taxed and regulated by the state, but at a price: Individuals are only allowed to possess one ounce at a time, and it would be illegal to pick up a bag from anyone but a licensed dispensary. Holder said that passage of Prop 19 would “significantly undermine” efforts to keep Californians safe from reefer madness, and that legalization would be a “significant impediment” to the efforts of Humboldt County residents trying to make a living.

Saturday, 10/16

Breaking news from the “thank God they’re not in Eugene department”: CVS Pharmacy has agreed to cough up $75 million in fines, after a federal investigation found that lax regulation of pseudoephedrine sales led to CVS becoming one of the largest providers of the drug to meth cookers in Southern California two years ago. An in-store system dubbed “Meth Tracker” catalogued all individual sales of pseudoephedrine, but it failed to prevent multiple purchases by someone in the same day, leading to a 150% increase in sales over a 10-month period. The feds said that CVS was so well-known among the tweakers that just a handful of individuals were able to regularly go store to store and clear out the entire inventory, something not seen since the late ‘80s, when a small band of CIA agents with reckless ambition gave us the crack pipe.

Sunday, 10/17

It was reported today that mathematician Benoit B. Mandelbrot, hero to new-age artists everywhere and father of fractal geometry, died at age 85 at a hospice in Cambridge, Massachusetts. A fractal, simply put, is a curve that reproduces itself to infinity, an irregular mathematical object that Mandelbrot saw as a reflection of the natural world.

Mandelbrot’s theories provided a means to measure that which was previously immeasurable--natural phenomena such as clouds or coastlines. The BANG! Gang would like to offer our condolences, and while we’re only familiar with a small portion of his work, we can only assume that the full scope of his career is exactly the same.

Tuesday, 10/19

A horde of killer bees descended upon southwest Georgia today, resulting in the death of a man who fell victim to over 100 stings. Witnesses reported seeing the bees align in a large “W” formation just before the attack, apparently provoked by a mysterious black man. Authorities believe that this is the same mystery man behind a string of strange attacks all across the South, including the unfortunate saga of a man from Tennessee who, just two weeks ago, had his asshole sewn shut while his attacker just kept feeding him, and feeding him, and feeding him.

Wednesday, 10/20

In a sign that maybe we’re not so different after all, a witness in the first civilian trial of a Gitmo detainee testified today in Manhattan that he left al-Qaeda in 1991 after a dispute over health care. L’Houssaine Kherchtou, of Sudan, testified of his horror when he returned home from a trip to Kenya, only to discover his pregnant wife begging on the streets for the $500 she needed for a cesarean section. With nowhere else to go, he asked al-Qaeda to cover the expenses, and when they refused, he split. When pressed for comment, an al-Qaeda spokesman explained that they were “not in the business of giving handouts.” He advised Kherchtou to “get a job or something” if he wanted his health care, and proclaimed that “by grace of Allah, we will be victorious in our bitter struggle against socialized medicine and an infidel takeover of health care.”

Thursday, 10/21

Astronomers announced the discovery of a galaxy that’s being called the oldest thing ever seen in the universe.

Hidden in a photo taken by the Hubble Telescope earlier this year, the galaxy is an estimated 13.1 billion years old, giving it a birth date somewhere around the time that the universe was celebrating the big 600,000,000.

When asked how he felt about being bumped down to the #2 spot, the celebrated Abe Vigoda called the discovery “hogwash,” and demanded that the new galaxy produce a birth certificate.

Friday, 10/22

Where’s Sam Jackson when you need him? A small passenger plane went down just minutes before landing, leaving just a single survivor. The crash occurred in the Congo region of Africa, after a loose crocodile caused frenzy aboard the plane. The croc had been smuggled aboard in a duffel bag by a man with plans to sell it, and when it escaped, the ensuing passenger stampede knocked the plane off-balance, sending it into a tailspin before it crashed into an empty house below. In a remarkable twist of fate, the crocodile survived the crash (but was later cut up with a machete).

Saturday, 10/23

The current retro craze appears to have gone completely over the head of the Sony Corporation, as it announced today the end of production of their once groundbreaking cassette Walkman. The granddaddy of portable music, the Walkman was first introduced in 1979, and faced the same usual short sighted outcry from the record companies about how it would kill the industry… you thought they waited for the mp3 to throw a hissy fit? Consumers nationwide were surprised by the announcement, as they had all previously assumed that Sony had already made this decision years ago.

Sunday, 10/24

After a round of mostly yawns following their release of a trove of secret Afghan war documents in July, the anonymous online whistle blowing media organization Wikileaks has upped the ante with their release this weekend of nearly 400,000 mostly classified military field reports pertaining to the war in Iraq. The documents cover the range of nearly the entire conflict, shedding light on the chaos of Iraq’s Army-tested, Uncle Sam-approved government, and the epic clusterfuck that followed the March, 2003 invasion. The reports also detail the deaths of close to 110,000 people, 60% of whom were civilians and another 40,000 designated either enemy or Iraqi military casualties. The Pentagon is up in arms about the leaks, citing the fear that if the country actually knew what the hell was going on, then the chumps responsible for this mess might actually be held accountable (but who are we kidding here, Donald Rumsfeld’s gonna have himself a nice, quiet retirement). If only the military had taken the advice of Dick Cheney, who in 1991 (in reference to the just ended Gulf War) said that “the idea… of trying to topple the regime wasn’t anything I was enthusiastic about… I felt there was a real danger here that you would get bogged down in a long drawn-out conflict in a dangerous, difficult part of the world. We were all worried about the possibility of Iraq coming apart.” Instead, after 7 years, a trillion dollars, and a pile of bodies that would make Pol Pot blush, here we are. To give Mr. Cheney some more of his own advice: Go fuck yourself, Dick.

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KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR THE TRUTH! Contact us with news tips and classified briefings, local and international.editor@bangpaper.com OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

3

Y

The Political Voyeur

by MOTO

ears ago I watched a video about sex. Wish I could remember the title. Loved it. There were lots of animals. I mention this because of a particular segment on the mating competition of a species of octopi. You are likely imagining male octopi fighting it out for a chance to mate with female octopi, but as these cephalopods are each male and female, the contests occur within the act of mating itself. Both struggle to inseminate without being inseminated. Picture it.

I ask this not to expand your pornographic horizon, but to offer an image to summarize the in-some-circles-infamous exchange between MSNBC host Rachel Maddow and Art Robinson, Republican challenger for the congressional seat currently held by Pete DeFazio, dog-lover.

Art Robinson, or as you may know him, that crazy motherfucker Art Robinson. At least, I had read he’s a crazy motherfucker and I was ready to believe it when friends started posting his interview with Maddow to Facebook, incredulous at the sheer assholitude of the man. Fantastic, I thought. Nothing like a two-minute hate to get the vital force flowing.

Problem is, when I watched the exchange I found myself siding with the man in black. I don’t mean in a partisan sense. I’m voting for DeFazio. I mean in terms of this encounter. Robinson was pugnacious, but he was right: while professing only to want to “get to know” the first-time candidate, Maddow’s actions were calculated to smear him.

Space does not permit a full account of the exchange, so I’ll focus on Maddow’s fundamentally unfair setup of the interview and the line of questioning she based on it. At issue was a $150,000 ad buy in support of Robinson by a D.C. based Republican lobbyist, funded by at-the-time-unknown sources whom Maddow introduced as a shadowy third candidate in the congressional race. She titled the segment, “It’s Called ‘Money Laundering’,” and began as follows: Maddow: “It would be illegal for someone to try and give you a $150,000 campaign contribution... isn’t this essentially an

in-kind donation of that size?”

This would be a reasonable question if Art Robinson were on the Supreme Court, which decided in early 2010 (Citizens United v. FEC) that such ad buys were NOT equivalent to donations but rather free speech protected under the First Amendment. Whether this was a good decision or not, it’s nothing Robinson, or any candidate, is responsible for.

Maddow: "But does the fact that the donations are anonymous... does that bother you, just as an American... if you get elected in part because of this money and then you find out it’s from criminals, or foreign interests, or communists or something... wouldn’t that bother you?"

An idiotic question on multiple levels. First off, according to federal law, the identity of the sources of funding would become public information by October 15th, as indeed it has. So there never was any possibility of Robinson becoming elected and then discovering who had run ads in favor of his campaign.

More importantly, though, Maddow never gives any reasonable explanation why the source of the ads should bother Robinson—doubtless because there isn’t one. Robinson’s response that her “representation that this money could come from criminals is simply a way of trying to smear them and smear me by association” is spot on. The entire line of questioning is a dishonest attempt to locate Robinson within a negative emotional frame, first by holding him accountable for federal laws allowing unlimited money in politics and then by baselessly speculating he might be receiving support from evil aliens.

Shameless, I think, but then politics, being primarily a matter of manipulating emotional frames, is not for the delicate conscience. Truth, as Nazi mastermind Goebbels said, is the enemy of the State—the State being that emotional frame within which a people live. Hence the image of our politics as the mating combat of bisexual octopi, each fighting to selectively employ spermatic truth to disrupt the egg-frame of the other, while preserving their own virginal fantasy. 

RESTAURANT REVIEWS

by Sean Money

Izakaya Meiji Company

345 Van Buren St., Eugene

Mon-Sun, 5pm-2am, closed Tues

katie äaberg

izakaya meiji co. Japanese frisky & a wall o' whisky

4

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

345 Van Buren has been occupied by a shmillion foodoriented businesses since I moved into the neighborhood, but Izakaya Meiji Company feels like it has been there this whole time. The place is ludicrously comfortable, the lighting puts me at ease, the exposed wood detailing warms it up, the tables are very comfortable, I didn’t want to leave the bar with its enormous, amber wall of whiskey when our table was called.

Izakaya Meiji Company’s menu is oriented around Hors d'œuvres that are all fantastic. Their gyoza was the standout, with almost perfect flavor. The cucumber cups filled with wasabi mayonnaise and topped with salmon roe were almost mind-blowing as well, especially with sake. Everything is good on the menu, and it all begs to be eaten with accompanying drinks. Izakaya Meiji House ups the ante for the neighborhood, which is very important to keep doing.



FEED ME, EUGENE!

local eats

with Meg

an Hinkel

LOCAL LIQUOR IS ON THE RISE

by STEVEN "stinky" WEEKS

I

tim "reaper" sullivan

reality kitchen Coming soon, Mustang not included

sweet potato fries

AND A BROAD SOCIAL CONTEXT

I

thought I’d reverse things a little in this column and write about food you can’t even get. YET. Welcome to Reality Kitchen!—the Whiteaker’s newest 24-hour organic eatery/coffee house/free library/transition program/small theater/work-in-progress, where you can hang out and (after they are licensed to serve food) have some sweet potato fries or get something from the gluten-free, raw, organic, locallysourced salad bar.

Sounds like a good place for multi-taskers.

Created by Jim Evangelista, a mural and theatrical set artist, OCF Library creator, budding art therapist, and Lane ESD teacher, Reality Kitchen seeks to offer services to the Eugene community that, “support and lift us all up equally, imaginatively and personally.” And you can eat there too. Well not yet, but soon.

A large component of Jim’s Reality Vision is the Transition Graduate Program, which provides a supportive workplace experience to students with disabilities over the age of 21 through the “preparation for, servicing, staffing and management of ” parts of Reality Kitchen. The program is intended to help students develop their skills (both life and culinary), become confidant about their skills, and enable them to transition to independent employment.

Moreover, Reality Kitchen will be part of a “sustainable circle” which includes serving locally grown, organic fruits and vegetables— either from neighborhood gardens or from several of the excellent organic farms in the Willamette Valley—and made available for purchase with food stamps.

As soon as they serve food that is raw and/ or fried, I’ll be there and I’ll tell you all about it! For now, you can check out their drum circle every Sunday at 3pm or visit www.realitykitchen.com. They are located on Van Buren between 2nd and 3rd.

Three Local Food Events Worth Attending Eugene Local and Green, a conference organized by the Eugene Neighborhood Leaders Council. Join the discussion with dozens of local activists on issues including food preservation, neighborhood gardens, property conversion and working together to deal with Peak Everything! Saturday, October 30, 8:30am to 4:30pm, 1376 Olive St., sliding scale admission benefits the Lane County OSU Extension Service. www.eugenesustainability.org 29th Annual Mushroom Festival & Plant Sale at Mt. Pisgah Arboretum. Your encouraged donation gets you access to “incredible mushroom-inspired food”, fresh cider, local wine, crafts, kid’s activities, live music, and much more! Sunday, Oct 31, 10am-5pm. www.mountpisgaharboretum.org Night of Bliss. A small suggested donation buys you all the delicious coconut bliss and fine toppings you can eat and benefits three non-profits including the Eugene Coalition for Better School Food. Saturday, Nov 6, 5pm-9pm at the Eugene Waldorf School, 1350 McLean Blvd. www.coconutbliss.com/news/night-of-bliss  !!!BANG RECOMMENDED HAUNTS!!! *Haunted Corn Maize at Lone Pine Farm in Junction City

haunting starts 7:30pm, through Sunday, $15

*13 Stories Down Haunted Theme Park, 1650 Centennial, Springfield

5-11pm, through Sunday, $15, kids discounted

*Jack-o-lanterns on 5th, 5th Street Market

most of the day Saturday, cool at night when they are all lit up, free

*Dia de Los Muertos Exhibit at Maude Kerns Art Center

M-F 10-5:30, Sat 12-4

t could not have been a finer day for a stroll through small-town Monroe, OR, as I arrived at the unmarked warehouse that is home to Hard Times Distillery. It was a Sunday, and I just happened to be wearing a nice black suit as I approach co-owner Dudley Clark outside. He thinks I must be a Jehovah’s Witness. Nope—I’m here for the liquor.

Started about two years ago as a homegrown project of Clark and fellow booze entrepreneur James Stegall, Hard Times Distillery is maturing everyday, cranking out barrels of their craft liquor, but taking the learning process one step at a time. It’s not easy to start a distillery from scratch. A lot of their own personal funds, blood, sweat and tears are involved, but bless ‘em for trying—the results are promising.

I was invited to witness and investigate the running of their still, and, of course, to taste the fresh hooch. Upon arrival, I was not surprised to find Boozeweek’s Eliot Martinez already there, being the boozehound that he is.

I joined him and Stegall on a tour of the facilities—just one big room fitted with a couple of mid-sized stills surrounded by barrels, bottles and various instruments of uses unknown to me. Fascinating stuff, but I am here to report on what they have to offer.

Unfortunately, they have only one spirit for sale at the moment. It is their signature Sugar Momma Vodka, a cane sugar-based vodka created from “old moonshine recipes from Prohibition,” and I was quite impressed. Taken fresh from the still and shaken with ice, my

STEVEN WEEKS

little taster glass was full of a surprisingly complex, sweet flavor and a rich robustness that left a hearty lump in my chest. Even though I rarely drink vodka, I actually enjoyed their Sugar Momma—especially with the kind and generous hosting of the distillers themselves.

I would have liked another glass, but, alas, it was only noon, and I had to drive back to town.

What is amazing is the price—I can easily afford a bottle of my own at fifteen dollars— very cheap for local craft liquor. The surge of fantastic spirits created in this region is quite exciting, and Hard Times is well on their way to being a major player in this community.

Of course, they will need more than just vodka. The good news is that a whisky is on the horizon. Stegall surmised that near springtime 2011 they will have a raw rye whisky, precursor to a planned six-month aged, then fouryear aged rye. The business is expanding with more equipment on the way and more alcohol for us to drink. Despite the current hard times with the recession, small businesses can still thrive, and Clark and Stegall show no signs of backing down. According to Stegall, Oregon is actually a great place to start a business like theirs, with an easy licensing process and a consolidated OLCC distribution. Thanks, Hard Times, for another excuse to drink. 

*Said hillbilly is of the East coast variety (North Carolina, to be exact) and does not want to be mistaken for the West coast type. Which, for the sake of clarity, is nothing more than a redneck.

ON HIPPIES ACTING LIKE COPS "So, I went to see a show at the McDonald Theatre and they were friskin’ people. Why check pockets in a place like Eugene where hardly nobody gets killed? They weren’t patting the girls down neither, that’s sexist. They weren’t even gonna find my knife.

The WOW Hall doesn’t even pat people down, and that’s where someone got stabbed.

"I asked the girl why they was actin’ like prison guards, and she told me I was actin’ belligerent and got some other guy to come over. Dude was actin’ hard, lookin’ like a toothpick. He said it wasn’t personal, and I asked him how it’s not personal if you wanna put your hands all over me. He said they were just tryin’ to keep me safe. I told him I don’t need your help to keep me safe, I been in prison.

"He tried to tell me it was a private establishment and they could reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, but you ain’t no private business if you have a board of directors. And I ain’t payin’ thirty dollars to get treated like a criminal. How do you

deserve to be treated like gold just ‘cause you’re wearin’ a blue shirt? He started stutterin’ like a scared little girl. I just went in.

"Shit, where I’m from security guards get their ass whooped if they try to break up a crowd. All them old, fat dudes were shinin’ flashlights in people’s faces like they’re gonna do somethin’. The crowd was no better, a bunch of complacent dumbasses that think they’re rebels. How you gonna sing along to a song like “Break the Spell” and then drink and drink? That’s the spell. But it’s all good as long as you can get high, right?

"Seems like it’s only OK to voice your opinion here as long as you’re not telling anyone they’re wrong.

"The McDonald was founded by a bunch of fuckin’ hippies that act like a bunch of cops, like “we’re so important here.” It’s the worst place in town to see a show. Do they even give anything back to the community? Kesey was never that fuckin’ cool, even when he was a prankster. They all came up here because California didn’t want ‘em around anymore."  OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

5

AMELIA HART is going to be a rock'n'roll Medusa, a clown, and an undisclosed third costume this year. She is looking forward to doing some great hair and makeup for Halloween this year at Dawn Baby Salon, 1355 Willamette. Halloween is her favorite holiday, possibly because it is a week before her birthday, and she loves candy and outfits and makeup.

And pumpkin. missameliahart@gmail.com ALLIHALLA, AKA Alli Ditson, is going to be a clown, a gross, creepy mermaid, and possibly a unicorn out of the closet for this Halloween season. She loves the holiday for the chance to go all out making costumes. allihalla@gmail.com

the furby Janelle Keisha Derven

day 'o dead face Dawn Baby

We hope we gave you some inspiration to look great (duh!) and take it to the next level this Halloween, no matter how short on time you are. Send us your last minute ideas over at looksgreatduh.blogspot.com

—— Allihalla & Miss Amelia Hart's

guide to last-minute costumes

ALLOWEEN. It's really just a few short days away now. Do you have your costume ready? No? Didn't think so. We're here to help. So its really getting down to the wire for some of us, and even though you're in a rush, can we please advise against the "normal clothes, great tag line" style of last minute costume? Its just, if your entire costume is simply a great one liner, why should any of us bother to dress up? This is HALLOWEEN! You're supposed to get wild, be brash, and wear something you couldn't wear any other time of the year! If Halloween was just about being witty, well, we just don't think it'd be nearly as much fun. Don't you think it's preferable to put on something outrageous, LOOK GREAT, and get into whatever wild persona your outfit exemplifies? That's not to say we don't love puns, or witty jokes being part of a costume, we'd just rather you actually wear something great as well.

This year, there are three days (at least) of Halloween since it falls on a Sunday.

Friday, October 29th is the Last Friday Artwalk and we hear there are parties around town, so surely you'll have something fun to do.

The big BANG! haunted house/party is on October 30th. There will be record playing, the Latrines playing, the Blimp playing, and 6

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

the Soothesayers playing. All at The Gup— located at 690 Van Buren, all for the low, low price of $5! And it's all ages! The whole Bang Gang will be there, so come out and meet the face behind the print, if you can recognize us through all that face paint!

Now. What are you going to wear?

We talked to our homegirl Janelle Keisha Derven, and she had some great suggestions for getting around the "lame last-minute costume."

As a buyer at Buffalo Exchange, she's seen lots of great complete outfits as well as some awesome accessories. She suggested getting a pre-assembled outfit, but spicing it up with a few accessories and making it your own. For example, she's got an awesome Furby costume she likes to do a variation of each year since there are always a few days of Halloween. She's done "aerobics instructor Furby," pairing the suit with sweatbands and spandex, "Indian chief Furby" with a headdress and she mentioned something about a "Juggalo Furby" in the near future. Janelle knows adding a different twist to an old staple can keep it fresh and exciting (a ground rule for any fashionista). You can apply this same principle to any costume. Janelle says, "If you're going with a pre-made costume, customize it, enhance it,

double up like Usher and R. Kelly."

We love Janelle's idea of a "sexy Furby" costume, using a child's costume and a pair of fishnets as a fun mockery of the ever-popular "SEXY SO AND SO" costume that never seems to lose popularity. We propose taking a premade "sexy nurse" or "sexy cat" costume, and adding a megaphone. You get “LOUD CAT. LOUD NURSE.” Megaphone=mega fun. Plus, people get to see how ridiculous it is for girls to be freezing in the cold October nights for the sake of getting away with wearing something scandalous. And yelling is fun.

Speaking of pre-assembled costumes, we don't mean just the ones you find at the Spirit Store in a plastic bag. There are lots of local places you can get costumes that require little to no assembly or thought. If you know what you want to be and want every piece, head to toe, without running all over town, or want to get the most complete and historically accurate ensemble possible, you can rent a costume from Nobody's Baby at 365 E 13th Avenue. In addition to being a rockin' vintage store, Nobody's Baby houses Time Warp Costume Rentals, which has almost any costume you could dream up. Wanna be a gorilla? They can rent you that costume. We know for a fact they also have every costume from Alice in Wonderland since we saw them in the spring fashion show, should you so desire to be the White Rabbit or Red Queen.

Kitsch, 1016 Willamette, has a rather extensive costume supply at the moment, and we've been having fun assembling costumes

there and putting them in the windows to lure you in. They also have a vast amount of random filler pieces too, like the scarves you need to finish off your Steven Tyler costume, or the perfect old man sweater to be Mr. Rogers with.

Kitsch is your clown suit headquarters if you want to take our clowny advice from prior columns...

We heard the Redoux Parlour, 780 Blair Blvd., is packing some great costumes this year (complete cactus outfit with flower hat, anyone?) and the ladies over there would surely be willing to help you if your costume should need any last minute alterations! They carry local designers not available anywhere else should you want that quality costume piece you can hang on to and sneak into your daily wear.

How about masks? Don full-body spandex, add a cape, and a mask, and you're ready to have a super Halloween. Olive Juice, 543 Blair Blvd., has a large mask selection, and lots of wigs and hats, too!

Another good way to transform a basic look into a bitchin' costume is with some makeup.

Tattered clothes destined for a free box (or that you got from a free box) become perfect zombie wear if you add some fake blood and a full face full of dead makeup. Same goes for the prom dress you've had in the closet. Pour some fake blood all over that and you're Carrie. Wearing devil horns and some tight black clothes is way more impressive if you have on some red face paint and black eyeliner. Girls love Halloween because they love to see guys in makeup. Just a tip.



The Interval a tasteful and mild ghost story by Vincent O'Sullivan

M

rs. Wilton passed through a little alley leading from one of the gates which are around Regent’s Park, and came out on the wide and quiet street. She walked along slowly, peering anxiously from side to side so as not to overlook the number. She pulled her furs closer round her; after her years in India this London damp seemed very harsh. Still, it was not a fog to-day. A dense haze, gray and tinged ruddy, lay between the houses, sometimes blowing with a little wet kiss against the face. Mrs. Wilton’s hair and eyelashes and her furs were powdered with tiny drops. But there was nothing in the weather to blur the sight; she could see the faces of people some distance off and read the signs on the shops.

Before the door of a dealer in antiques and second-hand furniture she paused and looked through the shabby uncleaned window at an unassorted heap of things, many of them of great value. She read the Polish name fastened on the pane in white letters.

“Yes; this is the place.”

She opened the door, which met her entrance with an ill-tempered jangle. From somewhere in the black depths of the shop the dealer came forward. He had a clammy white face, with a sparse black beard, and wore a skull cap and spectacles. Mrs. Wilton spoke to him in a low voice.

A look of complicity, of cunning, perhaps of irony, passed through the dealer’s cynical and sad eyes. But he bowed gravely and respectfully.

“Yes, she is here, madam. Whether she will see you or not I do not know. She is not always well; she has her moods. And then, we have to be so careful. The police—Not that they would touch a lady like you. But the poor alien has not much chance these days.”

Mrs. Wilton followed him to the back of the shop, where there was a winding staircase. She knocked over a few things in her passage and stooped to pick them up, but the dealer kept muttering, “It does not matter—surely it does not matter.” He lit a candle.

“You must go up these stairs. They are very dark; be careful. When you come to a door, open it and go straight in.”

He stood at the foot of the stairs holding the light high above his head and she ascended.

The room was not very large, and it seemed very ordinary. There were some flimsy, uncomfortable chairs in gilt and red. Two large palms were in corners. Under a glass cover on the table was a view of Rome. The room had not a business-like look, thought Mrs. Wilton; there was no suggestion of the office or waiting-room where people came and went all day; yet you would not say that it was a private room which was lived in. There were no books or papers about; every chair was in the place it had been placed when the room was last swept; there was no fire and it was very cold.

To the right of the window was a door covered with a plush curtain. Mrs. Wilton sat down near the table and watched this door. She thought it must be through it that the soothsayer would come forth. She laid her hands listlessly one on top of the other on the table. This must be the tenth seer she had consulted since Hugh had been killed. She thought them over. No, this must be the eleventh. She had forgotten that frightening man in Paris who said he had been a priest. Yet of them all it was only he who had told her anything definite. But even he could do no more than tell the past. He told of her marriage; he even had the duration of it right—twenty-one months. He told too of their time in India—at least, he knew that her husband had been a soldier, and said he had been on service in the “colonies.” On the whole, though, he had been as unsatisfactory as the others. None of them had given her the consolation she sought. She did not want to be told of the past. If Hugh was gone forever, then with him had gone all her love of living, her courage, all her better self. She wanted to be lifted out of the despair, the dazed aimless drifting from day to day, longing at night for the morning, and in the morning for the fall of night, which had been her life since his death. If somebody could assure her that it was not all over, that he was somewhere, not too far away, unchanged from what he had been here, with his crisp hair and rather slow smile and lean brown face, that he saw her sometimes, that he had not forgotten her...

“Oh, Hugh, darling!”

When she looked up again the woman was sitting there before her. Mrs. Wilton had not heard her come in.

With her experience, wide enough now, of seers and fortune-tellers of all kinds, she saw at once that this woman was different from the others. She was used to the quick appraising look, the attempts, sometimes clumsy, but often cleverly disguised, to collect some fragments of information whereupon to erect a plausible vision. But this woman looked as if she took it out of herself.

Not that her appearance suggested intercourse with the spiritual world more than the others had done; it suggested that, in fact, considerably less. Some of the others were frail, yearning, evaporated creatures, and the expriest in Paris had something terrible and condemned in his look. He might well sup with the devil, that man, and probably did in some way or other.

But this was a little fat, weary-faced woman about fifty, who only did not look like a cook because she looked more like a sempstress. Her black dress was all covered with white threads. Mrs. Wilton looked at her with some embarrassment. It seemed more reasonable to be asking a woman like this about altering a gown than about intercourse with the dead. That seemed even absurd in such a very commonplace presence. The woman seemed timid and oppressed: she breathed heavily and kept rubbing her dingy hands, which looked moist, one over the other; she was always wetting her lips, and coughed with a little dry cough. But in her these signs of nervous exhaustion suggested overwork in a close atmosphere, bending too close over the sewing-machine. Her uninteresting hair, like a rat’s pelt, was eked out with a false addition of another color. Some threads had got into her hair too.

Her harried, uneasy look caused Mrs. Wilton to ask compassionately: “Are you much worried by the police?”

“Oh, the police! Why don’t they leave us alone? You never know who comes to see you. Why don’t they leave me alone? I’m a good woman. I only think. What I do is no harm to any one.” . . .

"The Interval" was originally published in The Boston Evening Transcript, September 8, 1917

She continued in an uneven querulous voice, always rubbing her hands together nervously. She seemed to the visitor to be talking at random, just gabbling, like children do sometimes before they fall asleep.

“I wanted to explain—” hesitated Mrs. Wilton.

But the woman, with her head pressed close against the back of the chair, was staring beyond her at the wall.

Her face had lost whatever little expression it had; it was blank and stupid. When she spoke it was very slowly and her voice was guttural.

“Can’t you see him? It seems strange to me that you can’t see him. He is so near you. He is passing his arm round your shoulders.”

This was a frequent gesture of Hugh’s. And indeed at that moment she felt that somebody was very near her, bending over her. She was enveloped in tenderness. Only a very thin veil, she felt, prevented her from seeing. But the woman saw. She was describing Hugh minutely, even the little things like the burn on his right hand.

“Is he happy? Oh, ask him does he love me?”

The result was so far beyond anything she had hoped for that she was stunned. She could only stammer the first thing that came into her head. “Does he love me?”

“He loves you. He won’t answer, but he loves you. He wants me to make you see him; he is disappointed, I think, because I can’t. But I can’t unless you do it yourself.”

After a while she said: “I think you will see him again. You think of nothing else. He is very close to us now.”

Then she collapsed, and fell into a heavy sleep and lay there motionless, hardly breathing. Mrs. Wilton put some notes on the table and stole out on tip-toe.

She seemed to remember that downstairs in the dark shop the dealer with the waxen face detained her to show some old silver and jewelry and such like. But she did not come to herself, she had no precise recollection of anything, till she found herself entering a church near Portland Place. It was an unlikely act in her normal moments.

Why did she go in there? She acted like one walking in her sleep.

The church was old and dim, with high black pews. There was nobody there. Mrs. Wilton sat down in one of the pews and bent forward with her face in her hands.

After a few minutes she saw that a soldier had come in noiselessly and placed himself about half-a-dozen rows ahead of her. He never turned round; but presently she was struck by something familiar in the figure. First she thought vaguely that the soldier looked like her Hugh. Then, when he put up his hand, she saw who it was.

She hurried out of the pew and ran towards him. “Oh, Hugh, Hugh, have you come back?”

He looked round with a smile. He had not been killed. It was all a mistake. He was going to speak...

Footsteps sounded hollow in the empty church. She turned and glanced down the dim aisle.

It was an old sexton or verger who approached. “I thought I heard you call,” he said.

“I was speaking to my husband.” But Hugh was nowhere to be seen.

“He was here a moment ago.” She looked about in anguish. “He must have gone to the door.”

“There’s nobody here,” said the old man gently. “Only you and me. Ladies are often taken funny since the war.

There was one in here yesterday afternoon said she was married in this church and her husband had promised to meet her here. Perhaps you were married here?”

“No,” said Mrs. Wilton, desolately. “I was married in India.”

It might have been two or three days after that, when she went into a small Italian restaurant in the Bayswater district. She often went out for her meals now: she had developed an exhausting cough, and she found that it somehow became less troublesome when she was in a public place looking at strange faces. In her flat there were all the things that Hugh had used; the trunks and bags still had his name on them with the labels of places where they had been together. They were like stabs. In the restaurant, people came and went, many soldiers too among them, just glancing at her in her corner.

This day, as it chanced, she was rather late and there was nobody there. She was very tired. She nibbled at the food they brought her. She could almost have cried from tiredness and loneliness and the ache in her heart.

Then suddenly he was before her, sitting there opposite at the table. It was as it was in the days of their engagement, when they used sometimes to lunch at restaurants. He was not in uniform. He smiled at her and urged her to eat, just as he used in those days...

I met her that afternoon as she was crossing Kensington Gardens, and she told me about it.

“I have been with Hugh.” She seemed most happy.

“Did he say anything?”

“N-no. Yes. I think he did, but I could not quite hear. My head was so very tired. The next time—” I did not see her for some time after that. She found, I think, that by going to places where she had once seen him—the old church, the little restaurant—she was more certain to see him again. She never saw him at home. But in the street or the park he would often walk along beside her. Once he saved her from being run over. She said she actually felt his hand grabbing her arm, suddenly, when the car was nearly upon her.

She had given me the address of the clairvoyant; and it is through that strange woman that I know—or seem to know—what followed.

Mrs. Wilton was not exactly ill last winter, not so ill, at least, as to keep to her bedroom. But she was very thin, and her great handsome eyes always seemed to be staring at some point beyond, searching. There was a look in them that seamen’s eyes sometimes have when they are drawing on a coast of which they are not very certain. She lived almost in solitude: she hardly ever saw anybody except when they sought her out. To those who were anxious about her she laughed and said she was very well.

One sunny morning she was lying awake, waiting for the maid to bring her tea. The shy London sunlight peeped through the blinds. The room had a fresh and happy look.

When she heard the door open she thought that the maid had come in. Then she saw that Hugh was standing at the foot of the bed. He was in uniform this time, and looked as he had looked the day he went away.

“Oh, Hugh, speak to me! Will you not say just one word?”

He smiled and threw back his head, just as he used to in the old days at her mother’s house when he wanted to call her out of the room without attracting the attention of the others. He moved towards the door, still signing to her to follow him. He picked up her slippers on his way and held them out to her as if he wanted her to put them on. She slipped out of bed hastily...

It is strange that when they came to look through her things after her death the slippers could never be found.

OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

7

The Real Halloween I guess you think you know this story.

You don’t. The real one’s much more gory.

The phoney one, the one you know, Was cooked up years and years ago, And made to sound all soft and sappy Just to keep the children happy. –Roald Dahl

M

ost people just don’t get Halloween.

Costumes and candy begging is all Americans are ever shown in the commercial realm. I know parents who can’t justify sending their kids to ask complete strangers for sweets when the other 364 days a year they are told not to talk to strangers and that sugar is to be had in moderation. So why spend a bunch of money and time on costumes to wear for one night and walk around in the cold and the dark to beg bags of candy that will probably end up getting thrown away?

Why? An ancient tradition that many folks have never really investigated. Doing something just because everyone else has done it for as long as you can remember is never a good idea. Find out why.

Maybe that knowledge will reinforce the action and your place in culture, or maybe you will learn that a tradition you have been following blindly is completely bastardized from its original intention.

Halloween, or All Hallow’s Eve’ning, originated with the Celts over two thousand years ago in the British Isles and France. The true name for this time of year is Samhain, (pronounced SOW-wen) mean8

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

by

Bronwynn "Black M ass" M anaois

ing the summer’s end. In agricultural society, the end of summer meant the end of the cycle, or year.

Therefore, Samhain marked the new year for Pagan people, and it was celebrated as such.

Association with ancestors passed came from the Pagan belief that the spirit world was the closest it got to the living world at this time. This later coincided with Mexico’s Dia de los Muertos and the Christian All Soul’s Day. Country folks would carve and light root crops, such as turnips, to chase away the darkness. Costumes came from simple disguises people wore to “keep away” any unruly spirits. The Celts were a very superstitious people, and believed every conscious action they made had a direct effect on their livelihood.

In the 4th century A.D., the Roman Emperor Constantine declared a holy war on Paganism. The most effective way to eradicate the old religion was to Christianize it, giving new meanings to the old rites and symbols.

American colonists brought their puritanical beliefs with them, and Halloween was largely for-

bidden. Harvest festivals cropped up again in the 1800s, and the Irish Potato Famine of the 1840s brought thousands of Irish to American shores with their ancient customs.

Trick-or-treating followed them from the British Isles where folks went “souling” or “guising”, going door-to-door offering prayers for the family’s departed loved ones in exchange for soul cakes, fruits and coins. Divinatory games, such as bobbing for apples, were also a contribution of the Irish.

It is important to look beyond the plastic costumes and candy wrappers to unmask the symbolism that holds important clues to ancient history.

The ever-present black and orange are not a Hallmark fabrication, but a nod to old ways. Black symbolizes death, and the dark time of the year. Orange highlights the connection to agriculture, harvest festivals and bonfire flames. Each contemporary Halloween image originated from Pagan beliefs.

The macabre stirs up our subconscious fears of the dead and the unknown and helps us face them.

Ancient traditions were never about “black magic” and “Satanism” but instead a celebration of the natural world. Any misconceptions we have now are the result of other religions claiming Paganism was wrong. The good that religion was designed to teach and cultivate turns bad when one group claims superiority.

So, if you really want to celebrate Halloween, go ahead and do all of the dressing up, and the celebrating, even trick-or-treating. It’s a new year! But remember the real Halloween is a profound and spiritual event. Give reverence to the people who have died this year and reflect on how their lives influenced others. Spend time considering your own life and ways you can grow to be a better person.

Plant the seeds for the new year. Be thankful, for better or worse, that your life doesn’t depend on how much you have put away for winter and the severity of the weather. And perhaps most important, if this spiritual “mumbo-jumbo” doesn’t cut it for you, respect those of us for whom it does.  Happy souling!

THE DARK ARTS

by Sean "severed arm" Äaberg

“Ye shall not surely die: for God knows that in the day you eat thereof, your eyes will be opened & you will be as gods, knowing good & evil. To a new world of Gods & Monsters!”

—Dr. Pretorius to Dr. Frankenstein

here is a general discomfort with asserting your creative will in this world.

When i first began dropping my critical view of reality & instead started to articulate what i wanted, i was met with all sorts of warnings about “power corrupts” & general cautionary advice about achieving things in life. Petty moralism is a cop-out for chickens that are afraid of having an effect on reality. I see the artist as a conduit for things that do not yet exist in the here & now, a gateway between worlds, a sorcerer. Everything an artist does in life will develop this mystical connection between our material reality & through this gelatinous wall of the unknown. As a conduit & ultimately as the translator for what comes out of this place, one must train vigorously & be incredibly intentional. It is the artist’s sensitivity that allows them to pierce this wall, but it also the artist’s sensitivity that makes them prone to the distortions of that place, possible victims of the enormous clouds of energy locked away. Chasing the fire of inspiration, digging up the hidden knowledge is dangerous! This is why art & madness, art & drug addiction, art & self-destructive behavior go together. You

must work to keep your mind stable as this much larger, more powerful area is accessed.

You must be totally disciplined, yet at the same time, working almost subconsciously in order to not let the mechanical complexities of your mind taint what is being pulled through. It is a tremendous responsibility, you are the village witch doctor & most people, quite often not even the artists themselves, realize it. In Richard Cavendish’s, “The Black Arts,” he states that all magic is in essence, BLACK, because it concerns the desire of man to raise himself above his apparent station & gain larger, godly power. I do not see this as any different from what drives the artist or anyone concerned with imposing his/her will on the world. The relationship between the creative force in humanity & our simple, animalistic nature & the higher nature of the spirit has been examined & symbolized extensively in mythology, active religion, & all traditions of thought. But in the big, monotheistic religions, the dualism oversimplifies & casts the human desire for creative power as evil. This concept of evil seems to be the priest’s way of keeping the flock under control & not messing about with things

that could actually gain them power. There is also the presentation of some sort of jealousy, which seems very out of character coming from the all-powerful. In polytheistic traditions, the god who gives life or knowledge or fire to man is not unlike the Christian Devil, except that they are not associated with “evil”, hell & eternal damnation. In Greek mythology, Zeus withholds fire & the “means of life” from man, but Prometheus steals fire & gives it to man. Man is punished by having woman intro-

duced into his world. Maybe man will get wine with the next indiscretion. Then cigarettes.

“Others praise ceremonial Magic, & are supposed to suffer much Ecstasy! Our asylums are crowded, the stage is over-run! Is it by symbolising we become the symbolised? Were I to crown myself King, should I be King? Rather should I be an object of disgust or pity. These Magicians, whose insincerity is their safety, are but the unemployed dandies of the Broth els.” —Austin Osman Spare

 with Sean

Aaron Sullivan

(pictured above)

Aaron Sullivan is one of Eugene’s TOP 5 Artists. His work feels like it already exists upon viewing it.

SEAN: I’m getting an acid feeling, tell me about it.

AARON: Once there was a bunch of old batteries I found as a kid and I decided that whatever was inside was what made Ninja Turtles super heroes.. there was really just a bunch of bad smelling stuff.

SEAN: I would describe your style as the Ultimate Warrior meets early ‘90s Nintendo Power.

AARON: The first time I went to see a wrestling match was with my father when I was two years old and I probably caught a glimpse of the Ultimate Warrior giving some pile drives to Jake the Snake Roberts. I still remember the first game I got on the Nintendo was Super Mario/Duck Hunt and I played it till I puked. I would say that they are and at the same time aren’t related.

SEAN: Have you ever been a lifeguard?

AARON: I have not as of yet been a lifeguard. Although, I did make it to Killer Whale in swim lessons as a young lad. I do love a good shorty short and a sunny perch.

SULLY WORLD: mushisama.blogspot.com spandexdude.tumblr.com Make sure to find Aaron Sullivan’s new art comic “Tectonic Jelly.”

HOT TIP: Hey art appreciators & culture vultures, TUMBLR is the place where it’s happening. Check out my junk at mastertronic.tumblr.com

He Can Fix Anything... Almost, painting, original in color OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

9

446 E 13th Ave

Nacho's

1190 City View St., Eugene

(inside Rock Ja

va)

Mon-Sun, 11am-9:30pm

I

first noticed Nachos because of their Mascot; a stereotypical “Mexican” that looks like it was taken straight from the old Porky Pig cartoon “The Timid Toreador”. In these times of political correctness & obsession with authenticity & inoffensiveness, such a mascot can undoubtedly generate crocodile tears & derisive sneers from large numbers of ethnic studies majors. I however, found “Nacho” to be a breath of fresh air, a brazen YES in a sea of NO. —Sean

URBAN TOYS AND GIFTS

RESTAURANT REVIEW (continued)

KATIe Äaberg

STUPID JOKE JUST FOR YOU

Q: What do ghosts use to clean their hair?

A: ShamBoo. 10

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

Nacho’s is the kind of place I recommend with lots of weird caveats. It is a complicated sort of recommendation. If you’re not cultured, I would not recommend going there. You will be eating enormous piles of nachos and ordering giant margaritas in a cave of stereotypical “Mexican” imagery. You will not gain from this experience. If you have kids, this is a great place to go if you are cultured or not.

I would recommend becoming cultured first, but either way, nachos are great food for children, and they even have a candy crane in the lobby that is incredibly generous, plus a mechanical horse to ride. If you are cultured, the pure camp and kitsch value of Nacho's will be completely obvious, and you will fall in love with it. The velvet paintings, the statues of old school “Mexicans,” the “Mission” internal facade, the fake parrots, the heavy duty, clear-coated wood tables will evoke all of the pleasures of artifice. You will remember all of the old theme restaurants of years past, and you will want to go have “Mexican” theme nights immediately. The food is good enough, the nachos are enormous and never-ending, the waitress kept on pressing up against me. I recommend... the nachos.



WANDERING — GOAT —

READY STEADY SOUL CLUB

Interview with Collin "murder" gerber

I

f you’re looking for something fun to mix up the evening with, beyond the trite and standard lingering of bass heavy bar compilations and sequined club “dance” parties, come check out Eugene’s own Ready Steady Soul Club spinning all vinyl mixes of ‘60s early ska, soul, reggae and Motown. The soul club, which has been in town for about a year and a half, regularly presents dance parties which veer from the pretension of contemporary dance nights and plays music harking back to fun times, unity and innocence. Set on the palette of ‘60s mod culture, the dance parties, known as Scorchers, attract vintage Vespa and scooter enthusiasts and fans of traditional R&B danceable beats. The Scorchers are great for people who are unfamiliar with artists of these types of music because it will still ring a familiar and nostalgic bell. I sat down with two members of the four-man club, Aaron Carlson and Joe Barthlow, to discuss their passion.

How and why did you all come together?

JB: Basically to combine our resources to be able to put on DJ events. To allow us to showcase ‘60s rare soul and ‘60s and ‘70s early reggae.

What do you mean by rare soul?

AC: There’s, you know, the popular soul. Everybody knows Stevie Wonder and Supremes and all that. In the ‘60s, in the dance scene, it kind of revolved around stuff that was more upbeat, it didn’t really matter who sang the song, just that it sounded good. So in a way, I guess we kind of give credit to the artists who might not have gotten personal recognition at the time, people just knew that they made a good song.

Any artists we might know now that didn’t get proper recognition at the time?

AC: Yeah, I mean everybody had good, upbeat Northern soul tracks then. Jackie Wilson had some good ones, Martha and the Vandellas. Joe is more the soul guy; I’m more the reggae guy (laughs).

Northern soul?

AC: It refers to Northern England and the soul scene there and what they were into. It was more faster paced, danceable soul. Not, you know, the slower R&B. JB: Rare soul is kind of a generic term. It’s sort of more of a popular term in the United States. With Northern soul, what I really mean is a brand of danceable soul popular with the mods in the mid-‘60s in England. Essentially, it was American artists who couldn’t get airplay in the United States, and in the UK

they found labels that were sympathetic to their music. It’s one of those genres of music that the mods sort of grabbed on to.

Along with that was the early ska and reggae that was coming out of Jamaica. There was a lot of Jamaican immigration into England in the early ‘60s, and they were bringing a lot of that influence there, along with the American and British musical influences that were there. Essentially, the music that we’re providing is the music that the British mods in the early ‘60s to ‘70s were listening to.

What is the real crux of mod culture?

JB: It’s a British subculture that evolved in the early ‘60s. Essentially it’s about style, it’s about music, and it’s about scooters, and clothes, and the attachments to that culture.

And this is the vibe that you guys try and recreate with your regular Scorcher dance parties?

AC: Right. It’s a different side of the ‘60s. In Eugene there’s a lot of, you know, hippies, and when people think ‘60s they think of that, but there’s a whole other side to it that we try to show people. Seattle has a soul club, so does Portland. They’re all over the world, and Eugene didn’t have one, so we thought we’d start one here.

Cool. Well, when’s the next show?

Wednesday, October 27 at the Wandering Goat. And Tues day, November 9 at Cowfish. www.readysteadysoulclub.com & Facebook, MySpace and Twitter

— 268 MADISON — wanderinggoat.com —

EVENTS CALENDAR w e dn e sday OCTOBER 27

READY STEADY SOCIAL CLUB 8pm, 21+ after 9, free

thursday OCTOBER 28

THE TRUMPIST Eleanor Murray 8pm, 21+ after 9, free,

fr i day OCTOBER 29

Voodoun Moi Fjords

stuff to do with your kids.

9pm, 21+, free

by bronwynn manaois

O

k, so I took the kids to the pumpkin patch, which IS a great thing to do, especially when you can use the giant plastic wheelbarrows to stow all of the kids AND your pumpkins AND whatever harvest décor chotskies you find while waiting in the super long and unorganized weigh-in line.

But, that is not what this is about, because after the bumpy squash options were played out, what was most exciting about the pumpkin patch to my little dearies was not the feed-a-goat, nor the mining for semi-precious stones in the mini-me panning station. It was the caramel apples the size of a baby’s head. After examining said monstrosities and finding each one cost a small fortune, I decided we would make our own damn apples.

After a relatively short mourning/ whining period, each child searched the apple bins for the perfect (i.e. largest, shiniest, roundest) apple. This is about

the same time I realized buying the kit that made 5 apples for $2.99 was going to suit us way better than spending the entire afternoon deliberating over a homemade pot of gooey, burnt sugar.

When we made it home, the children bounded in the house, neglecting to haul their heavy pumpkins inside. There was only one thing on their sugar-craving minds. Well, I guess two things, if you count pushing each other through the door to be the first one to the kitchen.

After a brief scan of the box, (who needs instructions, anyway?) we had apples coated with their caramel coats in the oven and on their way to apple-vana.

I had to coax the kids not to plow into some hot caramel with their ready choppers. A few minutes later, when we ascertained the lip-burning phase was past, there was a collective sigh as they took their first bites. The first silence of the day filled the next few moments as the children bit and chewed and wiped dripping caramel from their chins. The silence was soon gone when loose teeth started getting yanked and gobs of sticky got wedged between others.

No one made it even halfway through their apple before they started feeling sick. With glazed-over eyes, they reluctantly let go of those prized wooden sticks and were ready for a sugar-fueled adventure.

Oh, wait. We have pumpkins?? 

sat ur day OCTOBER 30

UNICRON 9pm, 21+, free

fr i day NOVEMBER 5

The Malloy Family Album Tara Stonecipher Band 9pm

sat ur day NOVEMBER 6

JACKIE & JASON 9pm

OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

11

show REVIEWS



BANG!'s family guide to live music HOW MUCH BANG? (ratings explained)



RICE CRISPIES



POPPED BALLOON



CHERRY BOMB

  DYNAMITE

 UNICRON Some house party on Blair October 22, 2010

 When i entered this house party it smelled like a couple of skunks had been murdered. I was concerned that this might have a mellowing effect on the audience & i was not in the mood for mellow.

On the big flat-screen TV above the fireplace “The Last Unicorn” was playing to get everyone in the mood. Something about combining the corniness of unicorns with sleaze-rock makes Unicron more palatable for the ladies. I’m on a hunt for bands to play with in this town who play Rock & Roll, bring the crazy, believe in showmanship & aren’t old. Unicron fit the bill. High energy rock & roll, the threat of danger, the absurdity of unicorns, getting the girls dancing, the audience moving, vulgar lyrics, quick, intense sets. That’s what i want. —SEAN

ATOMIC WAR

SOME PUNK SHOW Wandering Goat Last week

Last week I went to The Wandering Goat to see three bands play and realised halfway through that I had walked into what could have been a film based on what your mom thinks a punk band performance is. Every single element of your mom's imaginary idiot punk band performance was represented flawlessly, as if she and her friends had scripted, composed and choreographed “Punk: The Musical,” complete with hostile, shirtless boys, crabby girls, curses on "authority," stomping, spitting, smoking, A GUY WITH AN ACTUAL MOHAWK, and tattoos up the yin-yang. Each component of this punk scene was perfectly executed on cue.

While I stood there surveying the scene, it struck me how predictable, common, and conservative the whole thing seemed. When the second punk band demanded that we "Kill Dick Cheney,” I began to fall asleep. Literally. Maybe it's time for contemporary "Punk" to stop. Perhaps the era is over when the blade is as dull as a fart. I believe this type of shock-to-agitate stuff was once an important part of our AMERICAN history, but times change and so should the delivery... particularly for youth-aimed music. I won't attempt to explain what counter-popculture is supposed to be, or dictate what messages are important or not, but I'll declare this to all cranky youngsters: Out with the old, in with the new.

Stomp the past. It is dead. —LANE KAGAY

MONOTONIX WOW Hall October 15, 2010



A

s the summer disappears & fall rears its decomposing head, one must ramp up the YES mode in order to cut through the rotten, entropic NO of nature. I was already passing out when i got home the first time that night, but i managed to push all the dead leaves & spider webs out of my brain & enter back into the action to see what was going on. Monotonix are a three-piece from Israel. They look like young Moses’ coming straight out the desert; small, wiry, hairy, wild, wearing athletic shorts. The band set up on the dance floor & immediately set into a relentless hour-long set of rhythm based rock noise. The audience surrounded the band, vibrating with excitement, bouncing all

around. The energy level was ridiculous, the band gave & the audience gave back. Immediately some kid was being pulled out of the crowd by the WOW Hall security guards. No one could figure out what he did, except resist being pinned on the ground by the security. Featured BANG! artist Aaron Sullivan said he was being watched by security, profiled for his acid washed jeans. As the audience returned their attention to Monotonix, the band was carried over to another part of the dance floor & ripped into a new song. PURE MAYHEM surrounded the band constantly, but i was forced to up the ante, no one was moving enough, shit had to move around more.

I was filled with the spirit. —SEAN

Digging through the crates in search of dusty grooves. Unearthing gems from the musical past. Celebrating certified classics that have stood the test of time Breathing new life into long lost tracks of the past—lost, but not forgotten.

ALBUM

ORBITAL Halcyon Radiccio EP

DATE

1992

O

http://bit.ly/9OSQD0

ARTIST SONG

LINK

rbital's “Halcyon” has earned the distinguished honor of becoming the first song reviewed for Blast from the Past for good reason. The first track off their 1992 Radiccio EP, is as soothing now as when it was released. Drawing from Opus III's It's a Fine Day (http://bit. ly/93SI9e), Halcyon's influence is heard in electronic music produced thereafter. The song begins building with a layered vocal sample breathing in and out of itself. Subtle tonalities slowly drift into the arrangement as a simple piano riff rolls in. Pitch blends lift the sweet melody and a quiet bass line sets a steady rhythm. The layers begin to crescendo in unison, and the kick drum solidifies it all. It's right at that point that things get interesting. Even if you don't think of yourself as into “techno” music, give it a listen. At some point before its eleven minutes are up, you just might find yourself happily entranced by it's soothing sounds.

Local DJ Jon 'Supa J' Smith says, “This song will always stand the test of time. Its gradual build begins a journey that transcends you with intelligence, beauty, and tranquility. A true classic. In fact, if you were to send a small list of songs into outer space, this should be one of them.”  12

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

with Richard D. Owens

BLAST FROM THE PAST

DJ JON 'SUPA J' SMITH spins classic dance tracks like this one, Sunday nights at COWFISH. Catch the '90'S VS. HALLOWEEN set, 10/31, with spooky club hits and electroindustrial cuts.

EVEN SHADOWS HAVE SHADOWS

by Dante "inferno" Zúñiga-West

O

n October 16th, Michael Larcen, the hip-hop emcee known as Eyedea was found dead in his mother’s home at the age of 28. No cause of death has been released.

His mother, Kathy Averill, claims he died in his sleep and that she is awaiting autopsy results.

The Internet is alive with theories and postulations as to what occurred. The signature benefit concert is in place with more details to be announced. His band mate and fellow record label associates have made or declined to make statements. I’m sure that soon his albums will enjoy resurgence in circulation.

Eyedea is best known for his work with the project Eyedea and Abilities, as well as his decisive victories at freestyle battles, such as HBO's "Blaze Battle" and Ohio's "Scribble Jam." While the notion of young musicians dying prematurely is certainly nothing novel, given the specific artistic medium, the death of Michael Larson marks a milestone of sorts.

Eyedea is perhaps the first high profile indie hip-hop artist to meet such a seemingly bizarre and tragic end; while the universe of corporate rap has become almost accustomed to the untimely death of its brightest talents, the realm of so-called conscious hip-hop has remained relatively unscathed by such heartrending tales. One could perhaps attribute this difference to lifestyles, socio-economics, gang-violence, upbringing and/or some very bad decisions. Say what you want but as a direct result of their lyrical content, had it been Del the Funky Homosapien, Sage Francis, or Aceyalone who passed away the other Saturday, you’d have received it a bit different than if Ice Cube, Snoop Dogg, or Jay Z had kicked the bucket. What is significant about the passing of Eyedea, however, is the way it has exposed the ripple effect that his chosen me-

dium of underground hip-hop had, and then eventually stopped having upon people over the last decade.

I grew up in Los Angeles. As a kid in high school, I watched the phenomenon of underground hip-hop grow and blossom. The rise of Project Blowed, The Basement, and other venues that vehemently dedicated themselves to a renaissance of hip-hop culture. I remember when Living Legends did their first instore in LA. I remember watching one of the first shows where Phife from A Tribe Called Quest went solo. I remember meeting 2Mex, the Visionaries, Phoenix Orion, Aesop Rock, Pigeon John, Styles of Beyond, Eligh, Grouch, and Sunspot Jones. I played chess with some of them at a little record shop off of Ventura and Van Nuys Blvd. I looked up to all of them.

Later on, I even had the pleasure of sharing the stage with most of them, as I embarked upon what has now been a ten-year journey of making and performing hip-hop as a nationally touring artist. I remember Eyedea on his first west coast tour. But that was years ago, and underground hip-hop was very strong.

It is the infamous Dr. Octagon and his album, Dr. Octagonecologyst, that is usually credited with being the first piece of underground conscious hip-hop to emerge and define the genre; the year was 1996. Most in the know would say that the surreal, abstract, humorous and pseudo-academic language of this album paved the way for emcees like Eyedea to flourish in their respective regions in the coming years. The notion that hip-hop was changing back into something other than glorified commercials for SUV vehicles and McMansions was a statement stood behind by many a young, show-going patron. A market was developed, (nationally and then internationally) and pro-

ian "careful with that" axe

moters and booking agents began a fast-paced race against each other to push this art form. It got bigger, and then somewhere around 2002 or 2003, the market started to dry up. Groups like Hieroglyphics, Jedi Mind Tricks, The Arsonists, and even the more mainstream Wu Tang Clan, were forced to split into smaller duo or solo acts to make a decent living off of the art form. The fans that came out to the hip-hop shows slowly started dissipating for reasons that can only be speculated upon. Promoters began to stop throwing hip-hop shows because the audience simply wasn’t there. The money dried up, the groups got smaller. During this period of decline, there were still those who continued to tour and produce hip-hop.

Eyedea was among these artists who rode the wave until his very end, and perhaps what could be perceived as the end of an era for his beloved art form.

It may be that the underground hip-hop scene is now merely a shadow in the light of the now more popular glitch-hop and dubstep genres. Rapping itself now seems to be used more as an aesthetic audio-sweetener to other

conglomerate forms of music, rather than the headstrong and cultish genre it once was on its own. One of my associates, former front man for the group Heavy Weight Dub Champion who goes by the name Apostle, once made a statement that was not entirely too far from the truth when he said, “Man, I love doing this and I don’t wanna ever stop. But as far as money goes—unless you’re like, Atmosphere- you ain’t gonna be seeing any dollars in this game.

The fans just aren’t there anymore.” For the record, Eyedea and Abilities often toured with Atmosphere. The former alliance was short lived, as a result of the funding simply not being there to sustain both groups on the road.

We can only speculate as to how it would have been if Eyedea had died in the heyday of underground hip-hop. Would the ripple effect of his passing been larger, would more people have listened? Who is still listening? Those of us who’ve heard, will miss the talented young Michael Larcen. It is said that true artisans never die, but rather live on in their work forever.  Long live Eyedea.

by Steven Weeks

I spend too many hours on the roads of Eugene, driving in endless circles for a living, working two jobs—one in food service and another in the newspaper business. A lot happens out there.

Let me tell you: The night was setting on much earlier than desired as the season changed. The wind was in motion, but the rain had subsided. I was in possession of one medium barbeque chicken pizza to be delivered to a seedy motel downtown (I cannot say which), room 102. I arrive with ease. A quick knock on the door, and a man appears, dressed in shorts and t-shirt, about to light a large marijuana cigarette. His gray hair is rustled, his face needs a shave, and he’s talking my ear off about something.

He wanted brisket, goddammit, not a pizza, but there ain’t no goddamn barbeque in this town. He’s old. He’s alone in this horrible motel room. He tells me he ain’t safe, but, fuck it, he’ll be dead soon, anyway. HS is on his trail. That’s Homeland Security—they’re out to wipe out his existence. He knows he can’t hide, so he might as well order some pizza.

Good God, why is he telling me this? Can I leave now? He says to me, “if you ever see one of those HS agents, you better cut his fucking head off!” I smile. I listen. I take my two-dollar tip, and away I go.  OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

13

Poetry is Dangerous

by Jasun “Plaedo” Wellman

C

hances are, you won’t see any poetry in today’s newspaper. Nor yesterday’s, or even tomorrow’s newspaper. You won’t see poetry in the magazines that clutter your space in grocery store lines. And poetry hardly ever makes the New York Times Best Sellers list. Why? Maybe it is because poetry is difficult. Poetic language is packed with meaning and images. Poetry demands attention. It says, “look at me, remember the first time you got naked in front of the one you loved.” Or it asks us “to see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour.”

All that imagining, thinking and feeling is hard work. It burns calories. We are a busy people, a tired nation of peoples juggling work and family responsibilities. Therefore, poetry is difficult. I’m a poet and I shudder at the thought of sitting down and reading a whole book of poetry from cover to cover. Reading poem after poem is exhausting. The mind eventually wanders, disengages, and poetry is really boring to the distracted mind.

Reading one poem at a time, however, can be like “holding a shotgun to the head.” Yes, poetry is dangerous to daily routines and

scheduled thought patterns. roes and corporate miracles.

Poetry poses questions that But rather a history of what cannot be answered by the The culture industry does it’s like to be alive. There is a status quo of our minds. The difference between chroninot want poetry structure of society can be cling the cold casualties of ruptured by such thoughts. war and Maybe this is why we keep our poets poor.

I saw the debris and debris of all the slain solWe keep our poets behind counters making diers of war, sandwiches and selling pamphlets on the But I saw they were not as was thought, street so that they may speak for the nobodies.

They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer’d Which is to say the everybodies. The lot of us not, whose stories aren’t pictured in celebrity gosThe living remain’d and suffer’d, the mothers suffer’d sip magazines or depicted on reality television.

The wife and child and musing comrade The culture industry does not want poetry. It’s suffer’d... not profitable to an economy fueled by fear.

Poetry asks us to love. “Even after all these years, the sun never says to the earth, ‘You owe The difference is passion, life lived, by peome.’ See what happens with a love like that: It ple who breathe, breed, and bleed. lights up the whole sky.”

By facing the dark depths of death and dePoets ask us to look at that sky. These poets spair, poetry can help us remember what it’s are often, “expelled from the academies for belike to be alive. ing crazy and publishing obscene odes on the Langston Hughes once wrote, windows of the skull.” But the people do look The rent was due. up at the sky, they tell their friends and famiThe lights were out. lies about these visions.

I said, ‘tell me, mama Poetry preserves the history of the people.

What’s it all about?’

Not the history we read from books in high ‘We’re waiting on Roosevelt Son. school. Not the history of wars, political heRoosevelt. Roosevelt...’

FILM REVIEWS

by Ryan Nyburg

NEW FILMS!

HEREAFTER

Clint Eastwood directs a ghost thing. Unlike the above, this one has a story but no one cares about it. The thing has gone over at festivals and with advanced audiences like an abortion at prom. Apparently, Eastwood is doing that marketing strategy of his where he releases some bland crap to make his good projects look better in comparison. Tell me, what do you think when you hear the term "supernatural thriller"? Are you still awake? 'Cause I'm not.

PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 2

This is kind of like when someone discovers they can market nails as coat hangers on television or when you try to cash one of those fake checks you get with your junk mail and it actually puts money in your account. Really high return for a pretty low initial investment. I don't know how I feel about going to see something when I can hear the producers laughing stupidly in the background, "oh my god, they're buying it, they're actually buying it." Anyway, this is a sequel to that one thing with the ghosts or some shit. People getting yanked by wires while we watch on security cameras. No budget, no acting, no story. Just a bunch of stuff happening. Sounds fun.

14

BANG! • OCTOBER 27, 2010

Sound Familiar? What if we replaced Roosevelt with Obama?

By describing the particulars, the unique artifacts of culture, the spoons, bruises, spider webs, first kisses, paychecks, underwear, and sheet stains of a people, poetry becomes universal.

Poetry asks us to face our fears and embrace our dreams. We forget that Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream" speech was a poem.

Yes, reading a poem can be difficult. It’s also difficult to live with the one you love, or make a meaningful and positive change to society.

Difficult challenges create deeply satisfying rewards. It is ironic that every city has a Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. And most of these boulevards are ghettos. Yet, poetry realizes this irony and asks forgiveness for its limitations. Poetry will not save the world. But poetry just might inspire you to save yourself.

As it was said in the movie Dead Poets Society, “We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But Poetry beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” 

T OP T E N AT T HE BOX OF F IC E

1

. Jackass 3-D Now you can see Johnny Knoxville get beaten in the crotch by a drunken midget dressed as a clown as if it were right there in front of you.

2

. Red It's kind of like Old People: The Movie. So let's round this out: It's based on a comic book, directed by a man who's never done a serious action movie and written by the folks who brought us Whiteout (you remember that one? Thriller? Antarctica? Kind of like The Thing only without the Thing?) Albeit, Helen Mirren as an assassin sounds pretty cool. Or, at least it sounds better than watching Bruce Willis still doing action movies. These days he doesn't so much have that look of grim stoicism as the expression of a man just waiting for his Ensure to do its magic.

3

. The Social Network The movie about the creation of Facebook. Everyone seems to be talking about Aaron Sorkin's script or Jesse Eisenberg's performance rather than David Fincher's direction. Hell, the spooky choral version of "Creep" in the trailer has been mentioned in more of the reviews I've read than Fincher. Maybe people will start to notice that he seems to have blown his idea wad on his first few movies and has been on autopilot ever since. Certain Oscar fodder, but my interest is only at about a medium cool on this one.

4 5

. Secretariat Another goddamned, sonofabitch horse movie, Jesus fuckin' CHRIST!

. Life as We Know It People unprepared to raise a kid raising a kid. This movie is sitting on my soul and crushing it slowly.

6. Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole Zack Snyder has the film making talent of a plank of cedar. Any

quality in his films is in spite of his direction, rather than because of it. Hopefully, this series of children's stories will occupy his time for the next few years so all our comic books can rest easy for awhile.

7. The Town Bank robber thing in Boston, which apparently is one of the nation's hotbeds of criminal activity. Or just an atmospheric place to shoot crime films. Lest you forget, this was directed by Ben Affleck. If you see this movie, you will be directly supporting the career of Ben Affleck.

8. My Soul to Keep The latest film from Wes Craven, which excites about as much interests in me as saying "the latest film from security camera at the lobby of a Akron, Ohio, Ramada Inn." Has an iconic horror director ever directed so many crappy films? Remember, this is the man who gave us Cursed, a movie where a werewolf flipped off the camera. That is Wes Craven's career: a werewolf giving you the finger.

9. Easy A A woman discovers fake promiscuity leads to popularity in a school where all the male students are apparently gay virgins. Actually looks like a decent take on the high school comedy, but I still get the sense no one involved in its creation has ever even driven past a high school, so much as attended one.

10. Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps I refuse to believe that Shia LeBeouf is a famous actor. It's all an elaborate prank that's being played on him by the world with only him and me not being in on it. The man's range goes from naive innocence to panic without hitting any other point in between. That Oliver Stone's track record of late (say, the past 20 years) has been fairly poor also does not exactly put this in a positive light. 

horrorsCoPes by Steven Jellybean Honeysuckle

ARIES Mar. 21-Apr. 19: There isn’t a true north for

October 27, 2010

your neurological navigator to reference in calm or calamitous times, but that doesn’t make you a moral vagrant, a boxcar believer. your inner articulator does the number crunching for you and if those numbers have been coming up in the red recently, get a good-sized mirror, morally undress yourself and scrub those scruples clean.

your feet for reliance on their products—building up your arches and sensitizing your soles. It’s modern-day foot binding. Rebel! Go barefoot in the streets… watch out for broken glass, tacks, rusted syringes, loogies, cracks, angular rocks, dropped lunches, barbed wire, discarded lit cigarettes butts, acid, curbs, car tires, etc. But it’s worth it to free your feet.

TAURUS Apr. 20-May 20: Grab your bear traps, Taurus, and be quick about it. Those furry feral beasts have banded together as a confederated nation and are invading cities across the globe as you read this. A pillaging before they hibernate. No more pilfering picnic baskets and marauding garbage bins. yogi, Ben, Winnie, Smokey, Paddington, Baloo, even Pooky. They’re leading a global bear coup. It’s an ursus uprising! It’s up to you to protect us, Taurus.

SCORPIO Oct. 23-Nov. 21: Bucket lists have suddenly become quite popular recently. All the rage, so to speak. Make a Fuck It list instead. It could be a compendium of people/ things you’d like to have coitus with, a collection of conundrums you’d enjoy forgetting, even a series of situations you’d take pleasure in pushing aside. Whatever you choose, be sure you get it down on paper and carry it with you wherever you go so as not to miss an opportunity to cross one off.

gEMINI

May 21-June 20: The economy has been hard on just about everyone over the past year and a half, costing jobs, boats, vacations, etc. If you were a casualty of the War On Employment and have hit the streets with signage to cadge coins from those still with paid work, you’ve probably had at least one person yell at you: “Get a job, sir!”

Well, the next time that happens just reply, “I’ve got a job: Telling you to fuck off! Now pay up.”

CANCER June 21-July 22: Be sure to carry a couple

quarters with you for the next few weeks, and keep an eye alert for toy vending machines – the ones with playthings inside little plastic bubbles.

Largely, those things are filled with cheap trinkets but you could make a nice return on your investment if the tides are with you. Maybe someone’s soul is crammed inside. you could always use a spare when yours is at the cleaners.

lEO July 23-Aug. 22:you’re remarkably receptive to new information at present. As impressionable as silly putty on newsprint. Words will slip smoothly into the recesses of your psyche and it’s hard to rinse that shit out once it gets back there and starts rubbing elbows with your personal mores, values and principles. Be careful what you read.

Now is no time to start Atlas Shrugged or Why Globalization Works.

VIRgO Aug. 23-Sep. 22: you’ve been pretty fastidious about your daily sustenance, being sure to eat plenty of fruits and vegetables. Well, you’re missing a key element of every good diet: Rocks.

They’re good in everything. There’s nothing like some sand over the top of a salad or some poached pebbles on rye with hollandaise. Or, if you are too busy to cook, pour some milk over a bowl of boulders. Rocks, they do the body good.

lIBRA Sep. 23-Oct. 22: It’s time to revolt against op-

pression. For years, shoe companies have fixed

SAgITTARIUS Nov. 22-Dec. 21: you shouldn’t take

the blame or have to say you’re sorry for what happens in your dreams. A wo/man cannot be expected to control every corner of her/his kingdom, cannot possibly rule over R.E.M. sleep and the fanciful farces embarked upon therein.

Dream big. Dream boldly. Dream maniacal, saturated, meandering, salacious, polymorphic, fantastical tails. Be the hero, the villain, the god…

Dream big.

CAPRICORN Dec. 22-Jan. 19: you can buy the naming rights to just about anything these days, and nothing says “I love you” like naming something after your flame. Obviously, the most desirable thing to name is a star. Just think, in a million years when we’re all living on different planets, that star may be your descendants’ sun and instead of calling it a sun, they’ll call it Shirley or Thomas or Alex or whatever her/his name is.

They’ll get Sarah-burns or make Chris-tea. S/he’ll be remembered forever.

AQUARIUS Jan. 20-Feb. 18: There’s a new dooms-

day around every bend and in every corner these days, or haven’t you been keeping up with the 24-hour media outlets? There’s a steady series of thorough threats shaking their meaty fists at us 6.9 billion earth citizens—everything from global warming to the impending planetary rejection of 2012. Be alive while you’re still astride your spark, while your peephole is still open.

CrossWorD PUzzLe OCTOBER 27, 2010 18, bestcrosswords.com BestCrosswords.com - Puzzle #2 for October 2010 Across

1

1. Italian wine city 5. Pass into disuse 10. Upper limbs, weapons 14. Boxer Spinks 15. Floored 16. Tidy, without fault 17. Novelist Waugh 18. Credibly 20. "Peter and the Wolf" bird 22. 13th letter of the Hebrew alphabet 23. Angry 24. Broadcasting 26. Brief instant 27. Plain of E Africa 30. Fair-haired kid 34. Gave a speech 35. Dulls 36. Vane dir.

37. Harp relative 38. Home ______; Culkin movie 40. Mine entrance 41. Skater Babilonia 42. Hang-up 43. Dull 45. Silliness 47. Meddling person 48. Hydrocarbon suffix 49. Fuming sulphuric acid 50. Dispute 53. Land in la mer 54. Wave-related 58. Talking at tedious length 61. Tubular pasta 62. D-Day beach 63. Sift 64. Ages 65. Trading center 66. ___ Grows in Brooklyn 67. 1996 Tony-winning musical

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13. Eye sore 55. Calamitous 19. Scenes 56. ___ impasse 21. Actress Heche 25. Moderately slow, musically 57. Catalog 59. This ___ stickup!

26. Anybody 60.

27. Conductor Georg BestCrosswords.com - Puzzle #6 forActress October 07, 2010 Ruby S A S S D E G A S P S S T 28. Of Nordic stock Across O R E O E V E N T E A S E 29. Miscellany A M A S C A N T Y N O N E K O M O D O D R A G O N 30. Like some ears E R A A L E E I T A L I C D Y N A M O M A O I O U 31. Eventually become U N R E G E N E R A T E 1

Copyright Pyromod Software Inc. For personal use only. Not for publication.

1. Back talk 5. Impressionist Edgar 10. Attention-getter 14. Hydrox rival 15. Happening 16. Alleviate 17. Latin I word 18. Cheerful 19. Nada 20. The largest lizard in the world 23. Baseball stat 24. "Hard ___!" (sailor's yell) 25. Sloping letter 29. Electric generator 31. Long March leader 32. Acknowledgment of debt 33. Unrepentant 37. Nourishment 40. "You've got mail" co.

41. Some nest eggs 42. Tending to exhilarate 47. 1980's movie starring Bo Derek and Dudley Moore 48. Directional ending 49. Blend 53. Apply chrism 55. Easy stride 57. Latin king 58. Loose breeches 61. Like some history 64. Histological stain 65. Network of nerves 66. Dynamic beginning 67. Find the answer 68. Above 69. Edible corm 70. Alloy of iron and carbon 71. 1/100 of a monetary unit

p r e v i o u s s o l u t i o n -------------->>

PISCES Feb. 19-Mar. 20: keep the devil in your pock-

et for the next week or so. Even in your PJs, even in the shower, even while tomato skinning. It’s not clear when you’ll need him or what for, but there’ll come a time and you wouldn’t want to be without him then. He’s handier than a Swiss Army knife and a jelly donut combined. Make sure it’s comfortable in there, though. you wouldn’t want the devil uncomfortable and upset.

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43. Actress Olin 44. Without affect 45. Choose for jury duty 46. Competes 50. Feel deep sadness 51. Pre-Easter 52. Thrust out 54. Inuit dwelling 55. Cotton thread used for hosiery 56. Pointed arch 59. Spoils 60. McDonald's founder Ray 61. Bran source 62. Actor Stephen 63. Sheet music abbr.

Nothing

feels like the

First Time...

1. Soggy 2. Storage place for weapons 3. Sailor

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$5 Off for First Timers with

Amelia Hart 541.870.0345 at

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A BIg THANKS TO OUR ADVERTISERS!

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SCARIN' AARON SuLLIVAN

OCTOBER 27, 2010 • BANG!

15

!!!POP QUIZ!!!

How many times did we print the word "HALLOWEEN" in this issue?

The reader with the correct answer gets a prize.

We're not joking. editor@bangpaper.com