The Comet - December 2021

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

everything will be fine

THIS issue

editor: Ron Evans

contributors: Sarah Sims, Cory Calhoun, Lindsay Breidenthal, Holly Thorpe, Bill Griffith, Lance Reese, Christopher F. Hart - thecometmagazine@gmail.com

crossword..................................PAGE 7

december 2021

WRITE ON THE RIVER ....................PAGE 12

ska showers.............................. PAGE 18

gregory hergert......................PAGE 8 poems on winter.......................PAGE 14 coasters art show...................PAGE 20

everything is fine.....................PAGE 23

the gardner heist.... ................ PAGE 24

art beat...........................................PAGE 30

1967 Christmas catalog........... PAGE 32

the fucking holidays.................PAGE 34

FUNNY PAGES.................................PAGE 36

COMET HEADQUARTERS

Greetings,

Winter is here and the beauty of the Xmas season is in full swing. I have already been flipped off twice out in traffic so...it’s looking to be a good’n!

Cynicism aside, after the shit year (2? 1 1/2?) we have had, I find that there is some comfort in heading back into cozy town as we prep for the coming storm of family chaos, icy roads and $1.25 sales at the Dollar Tree.

Does anyone else miss watching holiday TV specials as they aired? I suppose some of you may still have TV proper, but do they even still show things like Charlie Brown’s Christmas? Rudolph? Frosty? The Grinch? According to a recent article by CBS News, less than 50% of Americans still watch over the air or cable/satellite TV. And that number is rapidly falling. Anyone that has cut the cable knows how much junk they were paying for that they never miss now that it’s gone. But there is something I do miss. The shared watching experience. It’s hard to explain, but there was something sort of cozy about knowing you were firing up the popcorn, spiking that hot cocoa and cuddling up on the couch to watch some holiday magic with a few million other people. They were events.

In the age of on-demand everything, we can choose our own TV timelinewhich is fabulous. And a little empty. The only real version of the ‘shared watching’ experience we still partake in is live sports. Everything else, we’ll see it when we see it. This somehow made a lot of things on TV seem a little less special. Who cares if I missed it? I can stream it anytime I want.

Growing up in the 80s meant impatiently waiting for the annual showing of Star Wars on TV. Or The Wizard Of Oz. Or It’s A Wonderful Life. You looked forward to it all year and if you missed it...you likely lost friends over it. Of course we can all make our own micro versions of this by starting annual screenings of our favorite holiday flicks. Die Hard’s Eve has become a popular event and there’s even a growing online community of streamers who have Zoom meetings where they can all see each other seeing the movie. I think we are trying to get back some of that old feeling of knowing that right now, in this moment, people all over the country are joining us in some fairly arbitrary but tranquil time together. I suppose losing that is just another part of the flip side of life in the modern world.

Well, anyway. There’s no real point here. Other than to offer a nostalgic sigh before heading back out to middle-finger land. To be fair, I did earn those middle fingers. But hey, you try driving well while you’re streaming The Office Christmas episodes on your phone and live-texting your pals about it.

Community is important.

Happy Trails, Ron Evans Editor of The Comet

One doesn’t really set out to become Cousin Eddie. It just sorta happens to you. Oh, and Ripley says hi.

Crosswords & more made exclusively for The Comet

THEMELESS CROSSWORD #9

ACROSS

1. Prejudice against people with larger bodies

10. Jambalaya ingredient

15. The Birds' and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' subgenre

16. Part of a TV feed

17. Parking lot worker

18. Surprise answer at the altar

19. Horse color

20. Egyptian fertility goddess

COMING IN 2022: A META

DOUBLE ANAGRAM CHALLENGE

Instructions at tinyurl.com/coryanagrams <

words: letters (1 per word)

BREATH

DANGLE VERILE BELLOW LINKS BINARY

__

word anagrammed from removed letters:

drink

project

protection org.

and Serena, e.g.

12. Worship

13. Shindigs (...or a series of symbol-based fonts)

14. "Stop right there!"

21. Zigged and zagged

24. Like parking meters with more than enough coins

25. Home of theGolden Knights of the NHL

27. Catch

29. PC program file extension

30. "Oh, for ___ sake!"

32. Some medical-exam garb

33. "Stop clowning around!"

34. Showbiz nominations

38. Smashes to smithereens

39. Criticize, slangily

48. Like4.7 billion people

49. Olympicskater Boitano

50. Prep a turkey, say

51. 8-bit units

53. Brewpub array

55. Frankenstein's monster : Boris :: Dracula : ___

56. Machu Picchu locale

58. ___ Moines

60. Unknown, on a sched.

61. Mercury, for one

WITH A GUEST STAR!

SOLUTIONS TO LAST EDITION'S META

TANG (Hint: Find a 1-word brand name).

Mixed Drinks, probably had you guessing this would involve anagrams. And you'd be right ... but with a twist, of course. The clues for 4 of the puzzle's answers ended with either [1] or [2]. This not only indicated that their answers (TEENAGER, PATCHING, BATHES IN, and WINTER COAT, in red in the grid at right) were to be anagrammed, but also how many words that each

phrase they'd anagram into would have.

Thus, we get GREEN TEA, NIGHTCAP, ABSINTHE, and TONIC WATER, which are all things you can drink. (Note that "Mixed" in the puzzle's title refers to anagramming, asnot all the drinks are mixed.)

From top to bottom, the first letter of each drink name spells GNAT

It, like each theme answer, is a word or phrase that anagrams into a drink in this case, TANG, a drink (that you mix! Ha!), a 1-word brand name, and the meta answer. No winner this month. Thanks and good luck next time January's meta will be something special!

HUR BOD

MADAM ECRU WASNT

ATE BATHESIN III

SOCK MAIDEN ONCE

SPOUSE FOCKER

WINTERCOAT

GROAN OAHU TALES

ANTIC ORES EVENT

LATTE KNAP SEEDY

SOLUTIONS TO LAST EDITION'SANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

ANSWERS: bongo drums, irate, lengthy, love, impress, ears, etched, inspect, law, "I want it!", sheep, hat.

QUOTE: In the public eye, girls and women with strong perspectives are hated. That's so lame

QUOTE'SAUTHOR: BILLIE EILISH (spelled out by the answers' first letters)

I CRAVE FEEDBACK! Thoughts? Suggestions? Lemme have it. CSCXWORDS@GMAIL.COM

FEATURING:@gregoryhergert

Fave Movie: Blade Runner. Every few years I’m compelled to watch it.

Fave Book: Journey To Ixtlan by Carlos Castaneda. I’m fascinated by magical desert experiences.

Fave Band: Radiohead has gotten the most listening time in the last decade.

Fave Artist: Picasso. I own 75 books about his work and life.

Fave Quote: “Inspiration is for amateurs, the rest of us just show up and get to work.” Chuck Close ITEM You CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: My cell phone. I even dream about misplacing it when I need to photograph an exotic dreamscape.

Dream ColLaboration: I would enjoy adding some gritty urban backgrounds to Mark Ryden paintings.

Fave DESTINATION: My studio. I love going there every morning and getting to work.

by holly thorpe

Matthew Sullivan

presents

“Let’s

Get Weird: Introduction to Experimental Writing”

Mark your calendars for the January Write on the River workshop. Author Matthew Sullivan will be presenting on experimental writing on Saturday, Jan. 22, 2022. Time to be announced. Register for the event at the Write on the River website, writeontheriver.org.

About the workshop

As writers, we are often encouraged to push our creative limits and strive for originality. One way we can do that is examine some of the ways that writers use experimentation to innovate and redefine this thing called Story — to make the familiar unfamiliar and, in the meantime, to energize our process.

In this generative, participatory workshop, we will look at (and play with) some approaches that writers use to upend traditional notions of Story, such as structure, form, and language. Plan to get weird.

About the presenter

Matthew Sullivan’s novel, “Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore,” won the 2018 Colorado Book Award and was an IndieNext pick, a Barnes & Noble Discover pick, and a GoodReads Choice Awards finalist. His writing has appeared in Sou’Wester, Fugue, The Spokesman Review, Spark, The New York Times, The Daily Beast, LitHub and many other places. He is currently part of the Humanities Washington Speakers Bureau and travels the state to present on the evolution of the mystery genre. In 2019, he relocated from central Washington to Anacortes, where he is teaching online and writing a crime novel set in Soap Lake.

of his January workshop and of his work in progress, a mystery novel set in Soap Lake, Washington.

In your class description you say, “plan to get weird.” How weird?

There is a long history of writers who have made it their purpose to push their creative limits, and to carry readers with them as they do. So we’re going to poke around that universe a bit and hopefully be surprised and inspired by it.

The word “weird” is often applied to things that we aren’t fully comfortable with. For example, when my kids were little, I noticed that a lot of their classmates used the word “weird” for anything that fell outside of the norms they were used to. Those are weird shoes. That’s a weird drawing. In other words, a lot of things that we aren’t accustomed to become “weird” by default, even something to mock or reject, rather than something that can show us a new way of seeing or being. As writers, gazing bravely into the “weird” can be fun, inspiring, and even cause major shifts in our approaches.

What advice do you have for someone trying to break into the mystery genre? The same advice that I would give to any other writer, which is to focus most of your efforts on telling a good story, but also to seek quality feedback, attend classes and conferences, and read as much as you can in and out of your genre.

What would you consider an essential mystery read?

I am a fan of mysteries that push readers into unconventional places, so Paul Auster’s “New York Trilogy,” or Patricia Highsmith’s “Tom Ripley” series have been favorites of mine.

What is your biggest weakness or greatest struggle as a writer?

We interviewed Matthew in anticipation

I tend to overwrite and to be a perfectionist, which is not a great combination: I end up with many hundreds of pages that

I have worked and polished and shaped, then end up deleting them. I don’t know if I’d call that a weakness… just the process.

What has been your proudest moment since publishing “Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore”?

I wrote a book about books that has unexpectedly found a lot of readers, here and abroad, so that whole cycle makes me proud.

Sometimes it’s hard to know when to put a project to bed — how do you know when you’ve finished something?

Of course nothing is ever done. But in a practical sense, I find that when I work on something for ages on a computer, then print it out in a standard format and read it with a pen in hand, I can see the areas that need more work almost immediately, as well as the areas that don’t. Shifting from screen to page is a good way to see things anew. One related thing I’ve learned from working with agents and editors is that there are no shortcuts. When it’s done, it’s done, and when it’s not, it’s time to get back to work.

How does the revision process work for you? Love it? Dread it? What is most effective for you?

I love everything about writing, even when I hate it. It’s like family!

My revision process lately is a bit like that idea that a sculptor is “finding” the sculpture within the block of marble or wood. Because I tend to overwrite, my job during revision is to whittle away until I find the “core” story. Then I write some more, smooth and sand, revise again. Ad infinitum.

Tell me about this crime novel you’re working on.

It’s set in Soap Lake, which is a funky little town where I used to live, and the central character is a woman who moves

there, knows no one, and is walking alone in the desert one day when she finds a terrified little boy in the middle of nowhere. Then she discovers the boy’s mother, dead. From there, the story alternates between the mother’s life in the past, from the time she was a child, and the present-day solving of her murder. Of course these two timelines converge at the end of the book, when the past becomes present and the crime is solved. Soap Lake has a rich history and a lot of personality, so it’s been fun to weave its mythology, biology, geology, and history into a murder mystery.

Anything else we should know about you and this workshop?

Hopefully people will walk away from it with some new ideas, prompted by experimental writers and their techniques.

To learn more about Write on the River, become a member, or register for events, visit writeontheriver.org. Membership is $35 per year, and offers free or discounted access to all WOTR events.

Questions?

Contact info@writeontheriver.org. C

Winter Magic

By Richard Le Gallienne

Winter that hath few friends yet numbers those Of spirit erect and delicate of eye; All may applaud sweet Summer, with her rose, And Autumn, with her banners in the sky; But when from the earth’s cheek the colour goes, Her old adorers from her presence fly.

So cold her bosom seems, such icy glare Is in her eyes, while on the frozen mere The shrill ice creaks in the congealing air; Where is the lover that shall call her dear, Or the devotion that shall find her fair? The white-robed widow of the vanished year.

Yet hath she loveliness and many flowers, Dreams hath she too and tender reveries, Tranced mid the rainbows of her gleaming bowers, Or the hushed temples of her pillared trees; Summer has scarce such soft and silent hours, Autumn has no such antic wizardries.

Yea! he that takes her to his bosom knows, Lost in the magic crystal of her eyes, Upon her vestal cheek a fairer rose, What rapture and what passionate surprise Awaits his kiss beneath her mask of snows, And what strange fire beneath her pallor lies.

Beauty is hers all unconfused of sense, Lustral, austere, and of the spirit fine; No cloudy fumes of myrrh and frankincense Drug in her arms the ecstasy divine; But stellar awe that kneels in high suspense, And hallowed glories of the inner shrine.

And, for the idle summer, in our blood Pleasures hath she of rapid tingling joy, With ruddy laughter ‘neath her frozen hood, Purging our mortal metal of alloy, Stern benefactress of beatitude, Turning our leaden age to girl and boy.

Winter

By Richard Le Gallienne

Winter, some call thee fair, Yea! flatter thy cold face

With vain compare Of all thy glittering ways And magic snows

With summer and the rose; Thy phantom flowers And fretted traceries

Of crystal breath, Thy frozen and fantastic art of death, With April as she showers

The violet on the leas, And bares her bosom

In the blossoming trees, And dances on her way

To laugh with MayWinter that hath no bird

To sing thee, and no bloom

To deck thy brow:

To me thou art an empty haunted room, Where once the music

Of the summer stirred, And all the dancers Fallen on silence now.

Winter Fancies

By James Whitcomb Riley

I Winter without And warmth within; The winds may shout And the storm begin; The snows may pack At the window pane, And the skies grow black, And the sun remain Hidden away The livelong dayBut here - in here is the warmth of May!

II

Swoop your spitefullest Up the flue, Wild Winds - do! What in the world do I care for you? O delightfullest Weather of all, Howl and squall, And shake the trees till the last leaves fall!

III

The joy one feels, In an easy chair, Cocking his heels In the dancing air

That wreathes the rim of a roaring stove

Whose heat loves better than hearts can love, Will not permit The coldest day To drive away

The fire in his blood, and the bliss of it!

IV

Then blow, Winds, blow! And rave and shriek, And snarl and snow

Till your breath grows weakWhile here in my room

I’m as snugly shut

As a glad little worm

In the heart of a nut!

An Iconic Line

Claude Mellan’s The Sudarium of Saint Veronica (1649)

Christ gazes out of the page dolefully, head canted and haloed. He seems to float, disembodied, between our world and the next. And, at first, we could step back in sympathy, shocked by the blood that drips like teardrops from those baleful thorns. But something else soon catches light. It might be the ringed texture of his eyeshine or that fingerprint whorl on the nose’s tip. Then we notice the print’s corners, where curves recede as waves do from a skipping stone. It can’t

be, we think — but it is. This image was made with a single line.

Born into a family of coppersmiths in northern France, Claude Mellan (1598-1688) trained in Rome with the painter Simon Vouet, before creating his pièce de résistance in 1649. To make this immaculate engraving, Mellan used a technique known as the “swelling line”, which takes advantage of the burin’s asymmetrical profile. Just as letters formed by a fountain pen will swell or shrink as the angle shifts between nib and page, by rotating his tool — or widening a preexisting groove — Mellan created visual depth and texture in an unbroken line, incised directly onto

a metal plate. While engraving emerged in Germany ca. 1430 as an offshoot of goldsmithing and metalwork, spurred by a newfound access to paper in Europe, swelling lines were not common before the 1560s. As curators at RISD write, the technique was particularly suited for “reproducing the dramatic light and tonal effects of paintings as well as the exaggerated, heroic forms of late Renaissance and Mannerist art”. In Mellan’s case, he used the technique to reproduce a different kind of dramatic light: the holy afterglow of relics.

The title of this engraving references the sudarium (a handkerchief, or, literally,

sweat cloth) of Saint Veronica, exemplary of the relic class known by the Greek term acheiropoieta — made without hand. Think, for instance, of the Turin shroud or the Manoppello image. Veronica’s veil was supposedly emblazoned with Christ’s image via impression, after she blotted the inky blood from his face on Calvary, a process that itself resembles a kind of printmaking. There is indeed an indexical quality to Mellan’s engraving, making it feel intimately connected to Christ, an effect that only intensifies when viewed closely. Even for secular viewers, this image might prompt reflections on the magical quality of mimesis. Writing on the astonishment he felt while looking at photographs, Ro-

NOTE: This article was written in Europe so different spellings and grammar rules apply. Probably.

-The Comet

land Barthes reached for Veronica’s veil: “Photography has something to do with resurrection: might we not say of it what the Byzantines said of the image of Christ which impregnated St. Veronica’s napkin: that it was not made by the hand of man, acheiropoietos?” While this engraving was made by a human hand, long before photography, the astonishing complexity and otherworldly beauty of Mellan’s image make it feel like a miracle. Built on the “mystic spiral”, this image becomes an arcane invitation for contemplation, whether aesthetic or spiritual. As the art historian Irving Lavin writes in an extensive study of his own obsession:

. anyone who begins to trace the convo

The First Ever “Selfie”

lutions of the single, continuous, undulating spiral line that evolves (or devolves, depending on the direction one follows) ultimately to fill the universal void of the paper sheet, cannot escape becoming, as I have been, entranced, enchanted, bedazzled, to the point of obsession with this profoundly moving image. Mellan’s inscription seems to knowingly trade on his engraving’s ambiguous status, how it flickers between artwork and icon: FORMATVR VNICVS VNA / NON ALTER

(the unique one made by one / [like] no other). Here “one” fractures into a trinity of interpretations, signifying, at once, the singularity of Christ, the veil’s irreproducible aura, and the unbroken aspect of a divine, spiraling line. C

In 2013, the Oxford Dictionaries announced their word of the year to be “selfie”, which they define as “a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website.” Although the rampant proliferation of the technique is quite recent, the “selfie” itself (if defined as being a photograph one takes of oneself) is far from being a strictly modern phenomenon. Indeed, the photographic self-portrait is surprisingly common in the very early days of photography exploration and invention, when it was often more convenient for the experimenting photographer to act as model as well. In fact, the picture considered by many to be the first photographic portrait ever taken was a “selfie”. The image in question was taken in 1839 by an amateur chemist and photography enthusiast from Philadelphia named Robert Cornelius. Setting up his camera at the back of the family store in Philadelphia, Cornelius took the image by removing the lens cap and then running into frame where he sat for a minute before covering up the lens again. On the back of the image he wrote “The first light Picture ever taken. 1839.”

Both articles were originally published in The Public Domain Review at publicdoaminreview.org. If you wish to reuse it please see: publicdomainreview.org/legal/

BY TERRENCE MCNALLY

Directed by Cynthia Brown

Image: Robert Cornelius/Library of Congress

BY LANCE REESE

When filming a band earlier this year a bass player yelled out “D-O-G G-O-D!” this is not the story of that band, but of why I know the reference that he called out, and the journey to get there.

It was late summer, mid 1990 something or other, and I found myself with a pocket full of cash. I’d spent a few weeks on a masonry crew sticking phony stone on a chimney in some rich fucker’s mansion in Chelan. It was a gaudy center piece, right up the middle of the house on all levels. But now the job was finished, I was flush and the trunk of the ’82 Merc was packed and ready for adventure. I could hear the ocean calling for a dharma bum, so down the 101 I went.

By the end of the week I’d tucked into a sweet little camp behind the dunes, hidden in the costal forest, a little stream next to it to throw a Rapala into and catch a trout now and again. Good things were not to last, soon rain comes in, sits right overhead for days. Not hard at first, just a now and then drizzle, eventually an over night tsunami. I put a tarp over the tent to keep the water away, but poor design led to it trapping the water and filling like a bathtub. With impeccable timing the support ropes holding the tarp snapped just as I was getting out of the tent in the morning. Water dumped all over me, flooding the inside of the tent, sleeping bag, gear and clothes, all soaked. Considering this a good sign to move on I tear down and cruise out of the woods to the highway to regroup. A strip of businesses along the roadside –I’m fortunate enough that there’s a coin operated laundromat. Even better than the washers and dryers... they’ve got a couple showers. I grab an extra handful of quarters from the change machine, I want all the hot water I can get.

The attendants got the radio on, it’s not

a big building so it doesn’t take a lot of volume, even under the water I can hear, not great reception, it’s crackly – station must not be close. So I’m listening to scratchy rock ‘n roll, toweling off and an ad comes over the airwaves- “TONIGHT! MEPHISKAPHELES AT THE WOW HALL!” My ears are at full attention now. The ad gives a number and address, but it happens fast and I don’t have a pencil and paper handy, but now I’m on a mission for live music. Gotta catch that ska. I wrap up in a towel, switch my clothes to the dryer, and chat up the clerk.

“Hey, that radio station, is it local?”

“Na, it’s over the mountains, 60 miles in.”

“Did you here that commercial for the show tonight at some hall?”

“The WOW Hall? Yeah, they advertise shows there all the time.”

“You been there?”

“No, I don’t go to the city much, just stay on the coast.”

“You have a phone book that might have their number?”

“Maybe, let me see…. Yeah here. Try this one…” She hands me a book, I flip through and find it.

“You have a phone I can use?” I ask.

“Long distance, there’s a payphone out front.” I grab a pen off the counter, give her a look and she hands me a scrap of paper, I jot down the number.

“Am I gonna get hassled for this?” I say, nodding down to the towel wrapped around my waist. She shrugs in a way that says “I don’t really give a shit, I’ve got other things I’d rather be worrying about.”

And if she doesn’t care, I certainly don’t. The mission is on, got to get to that show.

I reload on quarters and head outside. It’s early afternoon now and there’s a steady flow on the 101. No phone booth, just a blue box on the front of the laundry. I get right through when I dial. Dude’s super cool – “yeah, yeah, show’s

SKA

on for tonight….. yeah, yeah, tickets still available, 10 bucks…. yeah, yeah, understand you’re traveling, set a ticket aside…. Yeah, yeah, located on 8th and Lincoln….” And he gives me directions from I-5. I just have to find my own way over to the freeway.

I want back on the road but my clothes are still drying, so I drop some more quarters in the phone...maybe my buddy Kaz is home. He’s back in Iowa, haven’t talked to him in a month or two. He answers and I fill him in on my current mission. Turns out the band’s on a national tour and he saw the same show a month earlier in Iowa City. He gives me the run down on the lineup, and tells me I’m gonna love the opening band, the Blue Meanies. So I’m still in my towel on the side of the road, the traffic’s loud and I’m shouting my conversation into the phone, but I keep putting quarters in. Catching up on the old crew, plus my clothes aren’t dry yet – so I’m stuck for a minute.

“Have you seen Trainspotting yet,” he asks.

“No, What’s that?” I’ve been pretty much off grid, just working and bumming it.

“New movie, just saw it last night. You have to go see it.” And then that’s a wrap. Go through the “good to hear from you” and “probably catch up in a month or two or six. Or year.” then I’m off to finish my laundry, then back on the road. Once behind the wheel I’m all business. The needle’s long ago broken off the speedo, so there’s no reference for how fast I’m going, but my foots into the pedal, the injectors spraying gas into the 302, and the ocean’s disappeared in the rearview. Map, unfolded on the passenger seat is my navigator.

Super cool dude’s directions are spot on and I’m at the venue early, but I show up at the “box office” and they let me hang out in the lobby. So I’m not THAT early, just a little band, the opener, Ruder Than You is setting up their merch table.

There’s some old pews and I sit down and we’re talking, they’re asking about the local area which I admit I know nothing about, and that I’m from Iowa. My buddy caught their show but I missed it, so I drove out to see it here. A needless lie, but they ate it up, that some farm boy from Iowa drove half way cross country to catch their show.

A crowd starts filling in, the venue doors finally open to what was once probably the main room of an old church. Not fancy. A square box really. Not a super high ceiling, no fancy architecture or trim, but it does have what looks to be a 100 year old wood dance floor that takes the cake.

The crowd’s in, pretty healthy turn out for the opener. Ruder Than You does their thing, solid 90’s ska, nothing stand out special, but way more pure than that pop crossover shit that’s hitting the radio stations. With the exception of an ill conceived cover of Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid” they lay it down and the dance floor’s grooving.

After getting a personal endorsement I was looking forward to the Blue Meanies, but their set doesn’t do it for this crowd. The punkier, faster, harder sound isn’t the problem. No the issue is the singer’s sloshed and sloppy – slurring his words. The room starts to clear, he’s taking offense, jumps down from the stage swinging the mic around in a circle, clearing people further. He then grabs a water bottle and starts spraying anyone still sticking it out. I decide to follow the pack and wait outside till they finish. Way to read the room, band.

All is to be redeemed when Mephiskapheles finally kicks off with a “D-O-G G-O-D”, the stage lights devil horns on the singer bald head, slick pressed silver suits on the horn players – and the skank is on, thick and low, feet kicking off that floating wood dance floor, arms swinging with the back and forth, and everyone’s all in. With a shake your

SHOWERS

body line me girl, all shakeitup, shakeitup, shakeitup. No one gives a shit about the Satan schtick, just dancing away, all the way to the Bumble Bee Tuna finally. The audience serenading along with the chorus until it wraps.

The crowd filters out, I stick it out to shop the merch tables, the Ruder Than You guys are there and introduce me as the guy that drove out from Iowa to see the show, - and again everyone believes the lie and is all stoked on it. So I heap on the praise for an awesome show ( the Meanies don’t come out) then they’re ready to call it. I’m not one to overstay my welcome so I head out. Outside that damn coastal rain storm found me, light at first, but I’m parked a few blocks away and as I get close to the car the heavens open up and start dumping God’s fury. I’m clawing open the door for safety. There’s a girl from the show close by, moving fast but caught in it. She’s more hippy than two tone. I yell her over and she jumps in the passenger seat. Introductions – she’s in the middle of her own adventure, but right now the Grand Marquis provides safety from the weather. She’s got a fresh baggie of Oregon Blueberry, we pack it and pass it. More smooth than the Iowa Skunk or Washington Northern Lights I’ve been on for the last bit.

The rain quits like it started, turning off to a drizzle. I recently put new wiper blades on and when I hit the lever they slide silently across the windshield, no streaking, completely clean. After a while still watching in awe, counting 15….. 30….. 60 seconds before we can see drop appear again.

We decide to get out a go for a walk. I was too high to drive, plus I haven’t thought far enough ahead to have anywhere to go anyway. And it’s late, well past midnight and I have no clue where I’m at other than the directions I jotted down to get me to the venue, but no map of the city.

So we just walk, from what feels like the outside of a business district that becomes some houses. Then up ahead there’s

people grouped on a corner by an old church. We get closer; BIJOU Theatre lights the side of the building, and below it an old marquee lighted letter box. It read – TRAINSPOTTING 1:15am

Surely a mistake, an illusion at least, so we approach and inquire. Sure enough, in 15 minutes the movie’s playing inside. I buy tickets and make way through an iron gated courtyard, down some steps into what looks more like a crappy conference room than a theatre. The drop tile ceiling is low, individual folding chairs set in rows, but there’s a screen on the wall, and I have to assume a projector somewhere amidst a drunken hoard of college students.

A guy walks up front telling everyone to take their seats, he has some announcements. “Welcome to the Bijou Theatre. We’ve got a couple of rules: first, no talking during the show.” To which he was greated with a “FUCK YOU!!!” from the back of the room

“And second,” he continued “No drinking,” which was followed by another “FUCK YOU!!!” then a barrage of empty beer cans flying his direction.

“Okay, One last thing before we start. We have some free movie swag….. Actually we just have one Trainspotting movie poster…” He looks around the room for a second, then throws it into the audience. It goes over my head, I don’t even try to catch it, it lands a couple rows back. I turn to look, a couple guys are out of their seats jumping on it, they start tearing at it, then start tearing at each other The lights fade down, somewhere in the back. Someone’s found the projector and the movie’s on. There’s no previews.

-Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family…………

Although he looks like a disheveled homeless man, Lance owns and operates Bearded Monkey, a small music recording venue, guitar shop and bike shop in Yakima, Washington.

INTERNATIONAL COASTER ART

SHOW COMES TO COLLAPSE

THE WORLD’S LARGEST MURAL

THE EXISTENTIAL HEARTBREAK HOTEL [after Slavoj Žižek]

By Josie Meats

The pair met at midnight at a dim-lit hotel; the ideal location for such covert afterhours activities.

The Father checked in, room 205.

By Ron Evans

“Silo Super Graphic” sounds like a porn genre we may or may not wanna see, but that’s the title of this massive mural in South Korea. And in 2019 it was declared the largest mural on Planet Earth by the Guinness Book of World Records.

The incredible project sprawls across the gargantuan grain silos (each standing 160 feet tall) at the Port of Incheon. The mural came to be after the port authority initiated a program to try to make locals hate their big ass ugly industrial structures a little less. I wish for our local powers that be to find their way to this

brilliant mindset concerning useful but unattractive buildings.

The clever bookshelf design was thunk up by a collective of 22 artists and engineers and cost a staggering half a million buckaroos to pull off. That’s some serious street art fundage.

It took around 250,000 gallons of paint to cover the 55,000 square foot structure.

The project was a winner of the International Design Excellence Awards (IDEA) which is dedicated to fostering business and public understanding of the importance of industrial design excellence to the quality of life and economy. C

Not five minutes after his arrival, The Sister knocked at the door. “Do you have it?”

“Yeah,” she said rushing in, tearing off her habit.

The two stripped down to just their underwear—both of them very average people.

The Sister was well fed and knock-kneed.

The Father, aptly equipt with a spare tire, was unusually hairless for a man his age. “Ready?” she reached into her purse, pulling out a giant, ten-inch ‘just-like-the-realthing’ vibrating dildo (with ion batteries included). The Father shuffled to his duffle, searching for and finding his synthetic, electromagnetic thirty-three-speed pocket pussy.

“If you are...” he looked at her moronically; submissive. She walked towards him wielding the giant cock.

The Sister gently inserted her giant, ten-inch ‘just-like-the-real-thing’ vibrating dildo (with ion batteries included) into The Father’s synthetic, electromagnetic thirty-threespeed pocket pussy.

Click. Click.

Both devices rapidly hummed and humped rhythmically; placed at the foot of the bed, they squabbled and wobbled lube-less and loud.

The Father and Sister jumped under the covers and, with the physical act of love taken care of, they clicked on the television at a low volume.

“Life at the parish would be a living hell if it wasn’t for our visits, Sister.” “Oh Ernie, you’ll always know how to tickle my feathers.”

Photo by ADP

Photo by Incheon Port Authority

EVERYTHING IS FINE.

BY VERUCA SALTY

CW:

childhood trauma, abuse.

Iknow I need to get my thoughts down on paper so I don’t lose my mind or introspect myself to death. I’ve always journaled because I’ve always felt REALLY big feelings. I recently started audio journaling because I had too many thoughts and didn’t always have paper or the ability to sit down and write it out. They turned into solo therapy sessions and I realized I was coming out of them with a better understanding of what was going on in my life and more compassion for myself.

When Ron Evans asked me to share some of my introspective insights, my immediate response was “great! I’d love to!” But now that I’m here, showing up and trying to get my thoughts on paper... well, I’m feeling a bit terrified. I’m bad at relating to people. Honestly, I’d bet good money that I’m not of this world. I’m a trainwreck of a human, flailing through space trying to make sense of what I’m seeing and doing and feeling. This is probably a good time to tell you guys that I was recently diagnosed as autistic (Au-

tism Spectrum Disorder, level 1, formerly known as Asperger’s) at the age of 35.

That checks out.

My life has been a series of unfortunate events. Being undiagnosed autistic for my whole life (as well as undiagnosed adhd, ptsd, agoraphobia, dysthymia (fancy for super depressed a lot), general anxiety disorder, somatic symptom disorder (fancy for everything hurts all the time but apparently it’s all in my head), avoidant personality disorder, social anxiety disorder and panic disorder), had a pretty major impact. On top of all the mental health diagnoses, I was blessed with an above average IQ (all the better to overthink and drive myself mad with).

I grew up in the 80’s-90’s and autism wasn’t even really a thing. I was just a whiny, picky, overly sensitive little kid that needed to be beaten into submission. And I guess it worked. I’m real good at masking and pretending like everything is fine while simultaneously internal screaming and dying on the inside. My parents set me up to ignore my feelings and intuition by gaslighting me whenever I had a big emotional response. So that’s fun. Even now when I have a big

feeling, my gut reaction is shame and selfcriticism. That helped set me up for major trust issues.

You see, I had one mentally/emotionally/physically abusive parent and one neglectful and aloof parent. I learned really early on that my feelings didn’t matter. Everything I felt was either ignored or gaslit and I was left feeling invalidated and ashamed for simply existing. Eventually I decided that my feelings were wrong (and unimportant) because they were never properly acknowledged. I stopped trusting myself as a child. Only now, as a middle aged person, am I starting to do the work to undo all the dysfunction. But I can tell you this, it’s real hard to trust anyone else when you can’t even trust your own feelings, intuition or gut instincts. So I basically trust no one. Super healthy defense mechanism I picked up.

With the help of decades of therapy and good friends, I’m slowly learning to like myself and dare I say, even love myself. Easy does it, let’s not get carried away. I hate myself a lot less; I can say that honestly. I often find myself amazed at people living out their dreams or even just generally enjoying their life. I can’t relate to that very much. Don’t get me wrong, there has been joy and beauty in my life.

Maybe even more than most. That’s the trade off of having such low lows, you get to reach those high highs too. The problem is that my trauma prevents me from fully enjoying the beauty. I’m way too busy being hypervigilant to keep myself safe against any further threats to enjoy the moment. And yet, I still create art, I sing, I’m a parent raising two of the coolest kids I know, I do hard and scary things all the time.

I suppose I’m so used to feeling terrible that the threat of failing or looking like a fool doesn’t seem so bad. Either way, whether I fail or succeed, there’s a 99% chance I’ll be crying myself to sleep with my heating pad that I named Greg (who I also coincidentally call my boyfriend). It’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine. Life is a cruel and tricky mistress. But I’ve found enough reasons to keep waking up everyday. Even if it’s just to share my bleak story with you. Maybe you’ll relate? Maybe you’ll think I’m a pathetic loser and that will help you feel better about your own life. Maybe you’ll feel compelled to share how you’re really feeling, leaving the facade of perfection behind and showing up in a genuine and real way. Whatever you do, I’ll be here, just a sad little aspie trying to find their way in the world. C

Illustration by Ron Evans

thirteen ghosts the art of the gardner museum heist

By ROn Evans

In the wee hours of March 18, 1990, the biggest art heist in history went down at the Gardner Museum in Boston. Thirteen pieces were stolen — the haul is estimated to be worth over half a billion in modern moola. This insanely brazen crime set off an investigation that would lead through a dizzying list of shady characters and a sea of theories, suspects and ultimately... disappointments.

THE LOCATION:

Isabella Stewart Gardner is a fascinating character in her own right, and certainly one worthy of a biopic. In the interest of brevity I’ll try to sum up the bullet points, if you will.

Born as Isabella Stewart in New York in 1840, the future art dealer and philanthropist enjoyed the comforts and benefits of being born into a house of riches. Her parents, David and Adelia Stewart were highly successful linen merchants who wanted their daughter to be exposed to the fine arts so they enrolled her into classes for music and dance in New York and Paris.

While traveling through Europe as a young woman (specifically the galleries) Isabella was hit with a dream to curate her own collection of important works for a museum someday — if and when the finances would allow.

1858.

While Isabella was visiting her friend, Julia Gardner in Boston, she became intrigued with Julia’s older brother, Jack Gardner — a wealthy businessman with a similar passion for collecting art. Isabella and Jack were married in 1860 and they spent many years traveling the world together, purchasing art along the way and slowly building up an impres-

sive and eclectic treasure all their own. The pair also began brokering deals on individual works and collections for various galleries and museums.

In 1898, Jack died suddenly, leaving Isabella in charge of the estate. She used these means (along with her connections she had built up over the years) to realize her dream of opening her own art museum. She worked closely with architect Willard T. Sears on a building that resembled the palaces of Venice, a place near and dear to Isabella and Jack. Work soon began on the structure in the rural marsh lands of South Boston and in 1903, the dream was fully realized when the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum opened its doors to the public. It

quickly became one of the most important galleries in the world, hosting art by such prestigious names as Vermeer, Rembrandt and Raphael to name just a few.

Isabella Stewart Gardner was a well known socialite (100 years before the Kardashians) and her love for a good party or highbrow social event was only surpassed by her passion for growing and protecting her art collection. Even after her death in 1924 she was still having a say — in her will she had very specific instructions for maintaining the collection at her beloved museum.

Unfortunately, there was no mention of improving the security system.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day weekend in Boston. And that’s a big damn deal. The massive and famous event that is the Boston St. Patrick’s parade always takes place on a Sunday, and this year that meant March 18. But the entire weekend is alive with events that bring out hundreds of thousands of locals and out of towners. Amidst all the chaos, the sirens and the drunken tomfoolery happening under every bush on every street corner — it likely couldn’t be a more perfect time to commit a crime in Boston.

Around 7:00 am on Sunday morning two Gardner employees showed up for work as per usual. Typically pressing the buzzer on the front door was enough to alert the security guards (two worked each night shift) to hit the button and let them inside, but this morning nobody answered the buzz. The employees sensed something was wrong so they called the head of security who jumped out of bed and raced to the building to see what was up.

With master key in hand, he led them into a side entrance of the building and the three of them immediately discovered signs of a ruckus. Empty frames. Broken doors. Crowbars laying on the floor. The security guards were nowhere to be seen. One of the employees picked up a crowbar and held it up like a weapon as the group cautiously proceeded through the disheveled museum. The Gardner Museum is a three story building with separate rooms or themed galleries. The three all stopped in their tracks when they entered the Dutch Room. They called the police, and the director of the museum, Anne Hawley.

When the cops arrived the employees informed them about a tunnel under the

Photos by the Federal Bureau of Investigations

THE HEIST:

museum that they had not inspected yet. They all braced for the worst, clicked on their flashlights and crept toward the dark and musty tunnel. Relieved to find both security guards alive and well, albeit taped up and stressed out — the group made its way back upstairs to survey the damage and get the report straight from the guards.

What in the hell had happened?

Once they had been untaped and given a donut and some hot coffee by police (the cops brought their own to the scene) security guards Rick Abath, 23 and Randy Hestad, 25 told their tale.

Just around 1:20 AM, two men dressed in Boston Police Department uniforms approached the main entrance and told the men to let them in, they had questions. Even though it was against company protocol, Abath buzzed the two men into the museum. Once inside, the cops claimed to have an arrest warrant for Abath and the two men were handcuffed and shoved against a wall. “This is a robbery” one of the not-so-coppycops said. They wrapped duct tape over the heads of the guards, led them down to the basement and cuffed them to a metal water pipe. The thieves then made their way (each step logged by the infrared monitoring system) to the Dutch Room to begin claiming their loot.

THE PIECES:

While many of the pieces that were taken are some of the rarest works in the world, the overall ‘shopping list’ wasn’t exactly consistent. Or logical.

• The Concert oil painting by Johannes Vermeer (1664) - Appraised at over $300 million, this painting is the single most valuable item ever to be stolen in history.

• The Storm on the Sea of Galilee oil painting by Rembrandt (1633) - the only seascape ever painted by the celebrated artist.

• A Lady and Gentleman in Black oil painting by Rembrandt (1633).

• Landscape with Obelisk oil painting by Govaert Flinck (1638).

• Chez Tortoni oil painting by Édouard Manet (1875).

•Self-Portrait postage stamp etching by Rembrandt (1634)

• La Sortie de Pesage watercolor and pencil by Edgar Degas (late 1800s).

• Cortege aux Environs de Florence pencils by Edgar Degas (late 1800s).

• Program for an Artistic Soirée 1 pencils by Edgar Degas (1884).

• Program for an Artistic Soirée 2 pencils by Edgar Degas (1884).

• Three Mounted Jockeys oil on brown paper by Edgar Degas (late 1800s).

• An ancient Chinese gu (date unknown).

• French Imperial Eagle finial (late 1800s).

The larger paintings were literally cut out of the frames, in some cases leaving as much as half an inch of art still clinging to the edges of the ornate frames. The importance and staggering value of the oil paintings near the top of this list is oddly book-ended by the choice to steal the Chinese gu — the oldest item in the collection but not terribly valuable. Most confusing is the French Eagle flag topper. It was essentially worthless yet the robbers took the time to disassemble

it from its mount. Also curious was the Rembrandt postage stamp etching. Even in the frame this miniscule piece could have easily been shoved into a pocket but the thieves took the time to unscrew it and pull the etching out, leaving the tiny frame behind.

In fact, nothing about this heist seemed particularly rushed as the infrared recordings showed that it went on for

museum, that is) until Sotheby’s auction house fronted the money for a $1 million reward. Suddenly so many calls were coming in that it actually broke the museum’s phone system.

The guards: Of course the first people for cops to look into were the guards. Particularly Richard Abath who was working the main entrance at the time. Questions arose about why he broke protocol and let the men in. Why did he randomly open then close the door 20 minutes before the men showed up (as the security system showed). Was Richard stoned at work? Apparently that had been a problem in the past. Why was he taped up in such an odd way (not tightly, with loops around his whole head but mouth left open). All these questions ultimately led nowhere and police had no reason to charge the guards.

Myles Connor: As soon as police knew there was an art theft they’d begun to suspect Boston’s own Myles Connor, arguably America’s most famous art thief. In 1975 Connor had stolen a Rembrandt painting from Boston’s Museum of Fine Art with one purpose in mind — holding it as a bargaining chip for getting out of jail in the future. The bold trick worked. He avoided jail, and the painting was safely returned. And other criminals took notice. However, during the time of the robbery at the Gardner, Connor was in jail again. This time he had no collateral paintings up his sleeve. He was ruled out.

nearly 90 minutes. More than a lifetime when you are robbing a museum filled with priceless art. This has led many to believe there must have been an ‘inside guy’ taking care of the security alarms that were being triggered. The intruders also knew about a secret doorway that was hidden as part of the gallery wall and the whereabouts of the single VCR that was recording video of the outdated security cameras in the museum.

Eject. Grab. Let’s roll.

THE SUSPECTS:

The investigation was having little luck at first in terms of leads (outside the

Irish Mob: Famed Irish mobster Whitey Bulger and his crew were looked at briefly as suspects. They had already been involved with some other art thefts as a means to raise gun money to support the IRA back on the Emerald Isle. It was also well known that Bulger had strong ties with Boston Police, which could help explain the authentic cop outfits donned by the robbers. Bulger denied responsibility and in fact claimed that he too was looking for the culprits who dared pull off something like this on his turf. Again, no concrete evidence was found.

Italian Mob: Also dabbling in art theft by this point was La Cosa Nostra, inspired by Myles Connor’s successful bargaining story. This is where things get complicated but interesting. Al-

The Concert oil painting by Johannes Vermeer (1664)

though, no matter which trail you follow here...there are plot holes, missing links and a ton of conjecture.

Many mobbed-up names were popping up all over town concerning leads on the Gardner case, but the most compelling theories were all swirling around the Merlino Gang. Mob boss Carmello Merlino was a figure that the feds had been tailing for years by the time of the heist at the Gardner. When an FBI informant, who had been successfully implanted into the gang, caught wind of some possible info on the art theft, it was a bit of a serendipitous discovery. But that comes later...

Not long after the heist, Robert Guarente, a known associate of the crew, had also made comments openly that alluded he was in possession of the stolen works. Guarente died from cancer in 2004 so the lead went nowhere. Until 2010 when his widow Elene told the FBI that her late husband did in fact have the paintings for a few years but when he learned he was dying he gave them to Robert Gentile.

Who the fuck is Robert Gentile?

The cops asked that same question. After some looking around they found that Gentile was some lowbrow crook working on his own — but a close pal to Robert Guarente. With mostly blue collar petty crimes under his belt, Gentile seemed an unlikely player in this high stakes game. But that informant men-

tioned earlier? In 2012 he ended up at a meeting Gentile was hosting for a bunch of wise guys, thugs and lovers of Italian food alike. Over a feast of spaghetti and wine the informant heard Gentile tap dancing all around the paintings but never really coming out about the details. He tried to pull more information out of him but, nothing doing. So the informant convinced Gentile to sell him a bottle of his prescription pills that were on the table. Literally. Gentile sold the pills and that was the felony needed to bring him downtown. Gentile denied any knowledge of the paintings once in custody. But the feds eventually claimed they had enough reason to search his home. While tearing his place apart, they found a hole that was dug out under a shed in the backyard. Hearts pounded. Press conferences were planned. This must surely be it.

Clown horn. Empty, except for a couple guns and a little pot.

But then they found another hiding hole in the basement. Smaller, but maybe...no. Empty. Wait...what’s that down there?

It was a copy of The Boston Herald. The headline story? The Gardner art theft. Tucked inside was a page of yellow notebook paper. On the left side were all the names of the pieces that were stolen. On the right side, estimated street values of each piece. But...no paintings. Was this what it looked like? Or was it just a smartass criminal giving

The Storm on the Sea of Galilee oil painting by Rembrandt (1633)

An ancient Chinese gu (date unknown)

Chez Tortoni oil painting by Édouard Manet (1875

the finger to law enforcement? Gentile wouldn’t say. At least not until after he served his 30 month prison stint for selling those pills. Bonus time for the guns and pot. Upon release he claimed the list found in the newspaper was from a fellow criminal who was trying to broker a deal for the paintings.

Going back to the early 90s.

Another Merlino crony, David Turner was said to have given the implication he had access to the paintings and by 1992, he was being tailed by the feds which led to him being arrested on cocaine charges that same year. I know. I said this was complicated. Anyhoo, Turner claimed that he could get the paintings back for a deal out of jail. But ultimately he was unable to make with the goods. To jail he went.

While Turner was counting cockroaches in prison, law enforcement discovered that one of his associates, George Reissfelder, may have been involved with the paintings somehow. Family members claimed to have seen some of the art in Reissfelder’s possession, including the Chez Tortoni hanging on his bedroom wall. Reissfelder died from a cocaine overdose in 1992, but in 2006 Robert Beauchamp, a former cellmate of Reissfelder’s said that he was the one that put the idea of stealing the art in the group’s heads. And after the heist Reissfelder, explained to Beauchamp, in great detail, how the

theft went down. In the early 80s Reissfelder was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. When his conviction was overturned he still visited the pals he made in prison - this is when he relayed the tale to Beauchamp. I know. I said it was complicated!

David Turner was not out of jail for long when he and a few of his cohorts, including the boss Carmello Merlino were busted in an attempt to rob a Loomis Fargo vault in 1999. Once again, Turner was offered a deal if he could make with the art. As was Merlino. Attempts, if only for show, were made but no cigar. No Vermeer. No Rembrandt. Old man Merlino died in prison in 2005. Turner was originally slated for release in 2032. Then suddenly in 2012, without announcement or explanation, that date was knocked down to 2025. It didn’t take an exterminator to smell a rat. Turner was eventually released even earlier in 2019. What did he give the feds? The details have not been fully released but it’s worth noting that it happened around the same time Robert Gentile’s house was being searched by cops who were mighty confident they’d be finding the missing booty.

Today.

Turner is a free man. Gentile is a free man. The FBI now claims they have all the evidence (though much of it has not been publicly released)

Self-Portrait postage stamp etching by Rembrandt (1634)

A Lady and Gentleman in Black oil painting by Rembrandt (1633)

Cortege aux Environs de Florence pencils by Edgar Degas (late 1800s)

they need to point the finger at George Reissfelder and a fellow Merlino thug named Lenny Dimuzzio as the two robbers of the Gardner Museum. Both men are now dead. No art has been found.

So there’s the disappointment I promised. The current reward for the missing art stands at $10 million. Tips continue to come in and investigators have traveled all over the globe chasing possible leads with zero results. Law enforcement believes the pieces are likely now scattered all over the place, snatched up by rich collectors. Dire as that sounds it’s a better scenario than what many fear actually happened. Some low-level grunts stole some priceless art without thinking about how hard it would be

to safely sell it and when the heat was on...they tossed it. The likelihood of some Hollywood-imagined art collector keeping them in his super secret underground gallery and admiring them while petting a fluffy cat and swirling a glass of wine is...not really a likelihood at all.

Ironically, the heist has cemented the Gardner Museum as one of the most storied places in the world. The current owners have wisely kept certain things just as they were left after that fateful night in 1990. And to this day, some of the most popular and captivating works currently hanging on the walls of the Gardner Museum, are empty frames. C

La Sortie de Pesage watercolor and pencil by Edgar Degas (late 1800s)

Program for an Artistic Soirée 1 pencils by Edgar Degas (1884)

Program for an Artistic Soirée 2 pencils by Edgar Degas (1884)

Landscape with Obelisk oil painting by Govaert Flinck (1638)

Three Mounted Jockeys oil on brown paper by Edgar Degas (late 1800s).

French Imperial Eagle finial (late 1800s)

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 3 AT 12 PM – 10 PM Krampuslauf Leavenworth

2021 Leavenworth Front street park in Leavenworth

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, AT 5 PM Flannel Fur & Fizz at Hard Hat Winery

Featuring bluegrass music by Penstock

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11 AT 5 PM Jingle & Mingle with Live Music by Seth Garrido at Hard Hat Winery

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2021 AT 7 PM Holiday Dreams-A Spectacular

Cirque Show

TIX: towntoyotacenter.com

THURSDAY, JANUARY 20, 2022 AT 7:30 PM – 10 PM “It’s Only A Play “

Riverside Playhouse

TIX: numericapac.org or 663-ARTS

Wanna plug your kickass event? Send it our way at thecometmagazine@gmail.com

Hello! This is the second column from the newly formed NCW Arts Alliance - thinking of our creative comrades and hoping you are shining your lights brightly this time of year. Do you know that you are a messenger of the collective? You’re able to tune into frequencies no one can hear but that you feel, turning this into poetry, humor, and dance. A regular creative practice means that you make a habit of facing the unknown and turning mistakes into marmalade. This is brave, important work that can thrive in a supportive community, so the Arts Alliance has been busy applying for a grant, building a business plan, and talking with people who might want to be part of a board. Planning is necessary. Money is helpful. But YOU, beautiful beasties, are the muse.

DECEMBER

12/1 - Collapse Gallery : Life drawing session, pre registration req., 5:30-

7:30 12/2 - WVMCC : Environmental Film Series presents ‘Gather’

12/2 -12th Annual Holiday Gift Show, December 2nd, 4-7 pm , top floor of NCESD building at 430 Old Station Rd.

12/3 - FIRST FRIDAY

- MAC Gallery : Yellow House, 8 tiny films opening reception, 5:00-7:00 Henry Stinson’s paintings in the gallery through 12/17

- WVMCC : Link Exhibit opens, celebrating 30 years of service

- Collapse Gallery, Coaster Show opens 4-9pm

- Gallery One : Annual Gift Show runs all month 5-7pm

12/4 - Punch Gallery (Thorp, WA), Pop-Up Gift Show 12-4 pm

- Wenatchee High School: Holiday Bazaar, 9-4pm

- MAC Gallery Foyer: FREE Artistsled Improvisational Dance Workshop, 10:00—11:30am, contact sbailey@ wvc.edu to register.

12/9 - NCWRL: 14th Annual Indigenous Education Evening with Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass) register for Zoom talk on website, 6:30-7:30

- WRI (Leavenworth) : Red Barn Event, ‘The Approach’ ski film, 7-9

12/15 - Collapse Gallery : Life drawing session, pre registration req., 5:30-

7:30 - WRI : Red Barn Event, presentation, ‘Written in the Snows’, 7-8 pm

12/16 - WRI : Red Barn Event: Spirit of Giving - Stories of Connection to the Natural World, 7-8 pm

DEADLINES & OPPORTUNITIES

12/4 - Confluence Gallery (Twisp), Erotic Art Show, ‘Filthy Little Pictures’

2022

2/27 - Gallery One (Ellensburg), ‘Undomesticated’, Nat’l Juried Art Exhibit

UPCOMING EVENTS, JANUARY/ FEBRUARY

1/20-22 & 27-29 - Music Theater of Wenatchee : ‘It’s Only a Play’, 7:30 Matinees 1/22,29 - at 2 pm

LINKS TO VENUES AND RESOURCES

*MAC- Music and Arts Center on the campus of Wenatchee Valley Community College https://ad-wb-wvc01.wvc. edu/academics/art/macgallery.html

*Collapse- Gallery https://www. collapsegallery.com/ *Gallery Onehttps://www.gallery-one.org/

*WVMCC - Wenatchee Valley Museum and Cultural Center https://www.wenatcheevalleymuseum. org/events/

*Icicle Center For the Arts https:// icicle.org/find-events/

*Confluence Gallery - https://www. confluencegallery.org/ ,

*Methow Arts - http://www.methowarts.org/

*Cafe Mela- https://melacoffee.com/

*Mighty Tieton Warehouse - https:// www.tietonarts.org/events

*PAC- Numerica Performing Arts Center https://numericapac.org/about/ news/

*Two Rivers Art Galleryhttps://2riversgallery.org/

*Wenatchee Valley Symphony Orchestra- https://wenatcheesymphony. org/

*Wenatchee High School Bazaarhttps://www.wenatcheeschools.org/ whs/ C

Leah Crosby performing in Yellow House film at the MAC Gallery 12/3 ‘Solstice’ block print by Amber Zimmerman.

NEEDFUL THINGS...

pages from the 1967 jc penneys christmas catalog

The Fucking Holidays

By Skylar Hansford

When you say the words “Christmas” or “holidays season” there is no shortage of images that spring to mind: family, Christmas tree, menorahs, food, elves, stockings, Santa, Mariah Carey… but how many times has “sex” jumped to mind during that word association?

Statistically, there are more births between August and September than any other months. Now I’m not the greatest with math but that seems to put conception right around the holidays. In fact, according to a recent NY Post survey, nearly three in four Americans polled (70%) said they typically have sex on Christmas day. Almost half (44%) admitting it’s a planned activity for Christmas. With nearly 47% owning up to having sex in their old childhood bedroom while visiting their family with a partner and 39% have done the deed in a partner’s childhood bedroom while visiting their family. One in four begrudgingly admitting that they’ve walked in on their parents “jingling some bells” while they were home for the holidays.

Not even the internet is safe from the spike in holiday cheer. According to PornHub Insights (the conglomerate’s data department) Christmas related searches see a massive surge around the holidays. Traffic to their website increases drastically — with the top three categories being “Naughty Santa’s Helper” (search increased +2012% during the Christmas season), “Xmas present” (+1842%), and “Santa Anal” (+1547%).

But before you think we’re all just doing it to stay warm during the winter, research shows that it’s not just biological, it’s a social phenomenon. Researchers realized this because the spikes were not the same worldwide. While in many countries there was an increase in sexual searches around Christmas, in Muslim-majority countries there was a peak

around Eid-al-Fitr, the celebration that falls at the end of Ramadan. And with Christmas and Eid happening at totally different times of year, it seems as though it’s the atmosphere of celebration, more than a specific time period, that’s causing the boost.

So why are we like this? Most of the answers are speculative as there is not currently a lot of research done on the “why” of it as much as the “what”. But the strongest argument is the psychological need for connection. This need spans throughout our existence; we are at heart social creatures and crave connection. But during the holidays, which evoke feelings of closeness for many, a picture begins to form on why people crave even more of a connection during that time.

“The holiday season is [all] about memories and intimacy,” says Michele M. Paiva, a licensed Psychotherapist. With an emphasis on connection and emotions running high, it’s easy to see why people would be feeling more sexual.

“Sex during the holidays is a perfect reason to emphasize the cuddly coziness that can be achieved with you and your partner,” exclaims Dr. Megan Stubbs, a sexologist and relationship expert. “Find innocuous happenings during your holiday events to create a fun game with your partner. Count how many times someone makes a passive, or just plain aggressive comment about politics and make that number [how many times] you try to make your partner cum.”

And since sex or masturbation is a great way to blow off steam and make yourself less stressed…Just know, if you’re feeling the urge, it’s absolutely okay to take some time for yourself or you and your partner.

Now to the big question: how can you help spice up your holiday? Answer: a yes, no, maybe list and possible a trip to your local adult store. For The Love Of It (located in Wenatchee, WA.), known as NCWs premier

source for all things intimate, has a great solution! The YES, NO, MAYBE List.

“The YES, NO, MAYBE List gives people, especially couples, and easy and honest way to learn more about themselves and each other. The perfect conversation starter, The YES, NO, MAYBE List gives you the foundation to the sex life you both want.” Says Jake Purdom, one half of the husband and wife team that owns For The Love Of It.

The YES, NO, MAYBE List is a fun and unique way to explore new, intimate ideas for you and your partner. You and your partner each fill out your own list, marking down a yes, a no, or a maybe under each sexual or intimate act listed- as well as if you would like to “give” or “receive” said act (and half the fun is in looking up acts listed that you are unfamiliar with). Once completed you compare lists with your partner and let the good times roll. The YES, NO, MAYBE List can be found inside For The Love Of It’s Wenatchee based location, where there is also no shortage or adult products from lingerie to toys (some even having a specific Christmas theme) to utilize while you and your partner help keep each other warm. The list can also be found in PDF form on their website www.ftloi.net (both at no charge).

And if you’re worried you’ll be spotted while shopping for your extra… holiday spice, we’ll leave you with this from the stores other owner, Lalani Purdom: “If people knew how many people they know come in to adult stores to shop, it would no longer be considered taboo”.

So this holiday season, while you may be destined to become another sexual Christmas statistic, remember that it’s not only normal… sometimes it’s downright necessary.

Skylar Hansford: (sex and kink advice/education) from For The Love Of It in Wenatchee, WA.

Skylar Hansford and her lucky Santa, Jeffrey Hiatt

THE FUNNY PAGES COMICS

AND NOVELTIES

DAD JOKE OF THE MONTH

How much did Santa pay for his sleigh? Nothing. It was on the house.

1) We’ve all had a little road rage from time to time, am I right? But one Seattle man took it to a new level when dash cam footage caught a dude throwing THIS into a car’s windshield after a road rage incident:

A) A Taco Bell cup full of urine

B) An Axe

C) A bowling ball

D) A disarmed hand grenade

2) A Florida man was arrested earlier this year for abducting THIS, slapping it around a little and then attempting to throw it on top of the roof of a liquor store. He told authorities he did all this because he was trying to “Teach them a lesson”

What did he abduct, beat up and try to throw on top of the liquor store?

A) His mother’s collection of garden gnomes

B) An alligator

C) His high school’s mascot outfit

D) His father-in-law

3) Earlier this year a California man was arrested for being in the possession of Child Pornography. Police were able to determine the man in question had been downloading child pornography since 2004, and had accumulated thousands pictures and videos.

He was arrested after someone filed a tip with the police... Who filed the tip?

A) His mother, who stumbled on the porn when she cleaned

his home

B) A Best Buy Geek Squad team member who had come to help fix the man’s computer

C) A criminal who had actually broke into his house to rob him

D) The man himself, after calling the police to turn himself in while sleepwalking

4) THIS very famous actor gave an interview recently where he admitted that he contemplated killing his own dad to avenge the abuse their mother suffered during their childhood. “No one would ever believe I killed my father on purpose. I’m one of the best actors in the world. My 911 call would be Academy Award level”

Which actor said this?

A) Will Smith

B) Robert Redford

C) Christopher Walken

D) Anthony Hopkins

5) THIS famous person was on Jimmy Kimmel live recently and revealed that Jeff Bezos offered him a seat on his commercial space flight before he offered it to William Shatner. This person turned it down, citing the 28 million price tag it would have cost them... Who was it?

A) Tom Hanks

B) Patrick Stuart

C) Paul McCartney

D) Obama

ANSWERS: 1-B) An Axe. 2-B) An alligator (who was in a mini golf enclosure) 3-C) A criminal who had actually broke into his house to rob him. 4-A) Will Smith. )5-A Tom Hanks.

December Horoscopes

How is it even possible that this is the last month of 2021? I feel like Mercury retrograded so hard that I have permanent memory loss and am now stuck in a fugue state. Anyway, enough about me.

The holidays are quickly approaching and sometimes it’s hard to know what to get that special someone.

Here to help is your astrological gift guide:

Aries - Give ‘em the gift of adventure! Snowshoeing, camping, snowboarding, whatevs. They love nothing more than being outside and pissing in the woods.

Taurus - Food. Literally any food, from anywhere. Just feed the damn bull.

Gemini - A Fanny pack. Yeah, definitely a Fanny pack.

Cancer - A soft, cozy, fuzzy blanket that they can use to make a blanket fort to hide from their life and problems.

Leo - A karaoke machine. Great for parties and when they just want to hear themselves talk... louder than usual.

Virgo - Virgos are easy, just give them anything to keep their hands and minds busy so they don’t have to sit with themselves for too long. A planner for the new year, coffee, earbuds, etc.

Libra - Doesn’t matter what you get them, it won’t be right or good enough. Skip the hassle, go with a gift card.

Scorpio - Might I suggest a vibrator? Great for him or her or they/ them!

Sagittarius - A commemorative plaque honoring all of the selfless and humanitarian work they do on a daily basis that usually goes unnoticed.

Capricorn - Reusable shopping bags. Efficient, to the point, frugal.

Aquarius - A waterproof speaker that they can take paddleboarding in the summer, but can also bring into the shower when they need a good cry.

Pisces - A tarot deck. What a fun new way to avoid taking responsibility for your own life! Just pull a few cards and blame it on them.

1. Pink Floyd “Atom Heart Mother” 2. The Beatles “Abbey Road” 3. Led Zeppelin “I” 4. Guns ‘N Roses “Appetite For Destruction” 5. N.W.A. “Straight

Outta Compton” 6. Peter Frampton “Frampton Comes Alive” 7. Fleetwood Mac “Rumours” 8. Bruce Springsteen “Born To Run” 9. Sex Pistols “Nev-

ermind The Bollocks” 10. AC/DC “For Those About To Rock” 11. Captain Beefheart “Trout Mask Replica” 12. Carole King “Tapestry”