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(From the SunBreak Flickr pool.) Aurora's famous elephant is back, and Great Beyond has the shot.

Huzzah! The Elephant sign has been fully restored and now sits atop it's place of honor on Aurora once more

The back story on the elephant goes like this: Sometime in the 1920s or '30s, Giovanni "John" Braida decided to build the sculpture to keep his employees busy during the Great Depression. His idea was to create a one-of-a-kind, life-size piece to show off their craftsmanship skills.

Great Beyond has more to the story with his photo on Flickr.

There goes the neighborhood.

There is over-the-top, and then there is Roland Emmerich. The German action director has spent most of his career making disaster porn (The Day After Tomorrow, Independence Day, Godzilla), and his new movie, 2012 (in theaters today), is his magnum opus. Because this time, he's made apocalypse porn.

The two-and-a-half hour flick (ugh) kicks off with nearly an hour of backstory (double ugh). That is not what the audience is here for. We do not care about John Cusack or Amanda Peet or Chiwetel Ejiofor or Oliver Platt. We do not care about Thandie Newton being pretty or Woody Harrelson being crazy (neither of which requires acting ability). And we certainly do not care about Danny Glover starring as pseudo-Barack Obama, the first and last black President of the United States, even if he does get to say things like, "You don't know what it's like to be the last President, son." 

We are here to see THINGS BLOW UP. And truthfully, the moment that shit finally starts to go down (the beginning of the apocalypse, as it were) is the most fun part of the entire movie. But after the fourth time you watch people outrun waves of disaster--on foot, in a limo, by plane, in a camper--it all gets a little ridiculous. 

Emmerich has previously destroyed the White House, but he gets to do so again, as well as taking out the Washington Monument, the Sistine Chapel, Yellowstone National Park, Rio de Janeiro, and all of Las Vegas. C'est la vie. He gives you CGI up the wazoo (some of which is quite impressive), but the action gets bogged down with way too much time spent on character development. Look, I know you have kids and need to talk about the issues in your relationship, but seriously, the apocalypse is no time to work on a failed marriage. Thankfully, there isn't a long, drawn-out explanation of why exactly the world is coming to an end, besides neutrinos from the sun make the Earth's core GO CRAZY.

Obviously, there's very little in the film to take seriously, though of course, people have to be told: No, this isn't a documentary. Case in point, everything on the internets. I didn't stick around after the screening for the post-film Q&A with a representative from Pacific Science Center. No doubt she had to spend most of her time explaining that come 12/21/12, we are all gonna be just fine, relatively speaking.

Lord knows that when the apocalypse does happen (after the machines rise up), it will assuredly take less than 158 minutes and cost way less than $200 million.  But here's the real doomsday scenario: Emmerich is talking about a television spinoff of the movie, taking place in 2013. Really, Roland, after you've leveled the entire planet, what exactly is left to destroy?

(2012 is currently playing at Landmark Metro Cinemas, AMC Pacific Place 11, AMC Loews Uptown 3, and Regal Cinemas Thornton Place Stadium.)

Jamelle McMillan

The 1996 Sonics have spawned a new generation of college basketball players who are selfishly making me feel old.

We already knew about Jamelle "Son of Nate" McMillan, who is a junior guard at Arizona State. Joining McMillan at ASU next year will be the son of dad's former teammate on the '96 Sonics: Corey "Son of Hersey" Hawkins signed a letter of intent to play for the Sun Devils yesterday. Also in the Pac-10: Alex "Son of Detlef" Schrempf, a walk-on at UCLA.

And another '96 Sonics' son--perhaps the best of this bunch--will play down south next season. Shawn Kemp, Jr., ranked the 35th-best center in his high school class, has signed to play with Auburn. Shawn Sr. was the best of the '96 Sonics, stands to reason that Junior would be the best of the sons. Mendel was right!

Alex Schrempf

Looking to the future, Eric Snow's three sons haven't yet reached teenagehood yet (which you'd know if you watched Real Housewives of Atlanta, in which the Snow family was featured).

Frank Brickowski's son Jack--who I'm sure will someday enjoy reading that he was conceived on a one-night-stand after his parents were separated--has yet to reach double-digits in age.

Gary Payton's son Gary Jr. was playing at Spring Valley High in Las Vegas in 2008, but I can't find any information about him....

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While the music of one Franklin grad only inspires the need for more Valium, another has inspired a dance song. Dallas rapper Trilli Trill invites you to do the Jason Terry:

Terry, who led Franklin to back-to-back state hoops championships in 1994 and '95, was the NBA's Sixth Man of the Year winner last year as a Dallas Maverick.

I'm kind of a sucker for hot-mess rock star side-projects, so Julian Plenti is...Skyscraper, the pseudonymous fruit of Interpol lead singer Paul Banks' solo labors, is stroking some major pleasure nodes in this corner.

It does everything you want a solo album to do. You get the echoes of Banks' main gig ("Games for Days" plays like a great lost Interpol hit single), and just enough mutated experimentation with other genres to season the stew: "Girl on the Sporting News," with its almost Bryan Ferry jazz-funk groove percolating underneath a moaning guitar and Banks' wraithlike monotone, shouldn't work but somehow does. 

Granted, Julian Plenti is...Skyscraper also indulges in side-project things that some folks don't like. The perversity of taking a verse as hooky and affecting as the one in "Fun That We Have" and mussing up the bridge with an off-kilter slowdown and meandering computer bleeps could only happen on a solo album. And I gotta 'fess up that one or two of the ballads make for a tough-going ride.

But the album sports plenty of sublime moments that combine the familiar and the unexplored in equal measure, too. "Skyscraper" is as darkly gorgeous as anything you'll hear on a pop record this year; a haunting 3/4-time swirl of atmosphere guided by an acoustic guitar, elegant strings, plaintive piano, and some of Banks' most evocative vocals. And "Unwind" takes the black chrome exterior of Interpol's instrumental attack and throws a festive Sgt. Pepper's trumpet on top, to winning effect. It all should make for an interesting hot mess live at Chop Suey Monday night.  

 

• Julian Plenti plays Chop Suey this Monday, November 16th.  8 pm doors. Tickets are $16 adv, all ages.

Michael Specter's book Denialism (de rigueur subtitle-of-absurd-length: How irrational thinking hinders scientific progress, harms the planet, and threatens our lives) might look like it'd fit nicely on the bookshelf with Why People Believe Weird Things and Unscientific America, but it would likely jump the other two and scuff up their dust jackets. Specter has been writing for the New Yorker since 1998, and some of the Big Apple's pugnacity seems to have rubbed off on him. Or maybe he was always that way.

It's a curious book because while you might expect Holocaust (or other genocide) deniers, 9/11 conspiracy theorists, creationists, global warming skeptics, or other troublesome bands of misinformers to pop up, they don't. "I decided to focus on issues like food, vaccinations, and our politically correct approach to medicine," writes Specter in the introduction, "because in each of these arenas irrational thought and frank denialism have taken firm root."

Yet as Grist argues in a critique of the book, if a small group of global warming deniers delays action long enough that we reach a point of no return for the planet, that's a big deal. If a small group of people insist on paying more for Whole Foods organic produce because it makes them feel healthier, that's...part of their shopping budget. Yet, Grist notes, "The book’s index has no entry for 'climate change.' The entry for 'Global warming' cites just one page—a reference to genetically modified foods as a “solution” to global warming."

I can't speak for Specter, but his approach feels Freakonomics-y or Gladwellian: one of those "forget everything you thought you knew" come-ons, juiced up with the blood of a few hodgepodge sacred cows. In his introduction, Specter's language is fairly circumspect and even-keeled. But the chapters on the "irrational" response to Vioxx, hysteria around vaccines, the rise of the organic food fetish and natural supplement worship, and the role of genetics in medical treatment, contain what some call "provocative" and others might call "unsubstantiated" claims.

Even when I agreed with him, Specter managed to rub me the wrong way. Though he struggles to sound filled with empathy for the irrationalists, Specter comes off as an old-school anthropologist tolerant of a tribe's quaint superstitions. Of course it's natural for you to believe that god threw the lightning at you, he seems to say. (I kept wondering who he was writing for--I'll get the chance to ask him when he's town.)

Again and again, Specter presents what sounds like both sides of an argument, except that one's irrational, anti-science, and threatening all our lives. Specter takes the lesson of the Vioxx scandal to be primarily one of emotional overreaction. We don't understand pharmacological medicine, so we trust and fear it in equally overreaching amounts. If we rationally accepted its risks, Vioxx might be on the market today.

What he doesn't spend a lot of time considering is whether the overreaction is called for given the scope of our reliance on this medicine. That is, we can't really afford to have pharmaceutical companies lying to us about known problems with medicine prescribed to millions--it would set a troubling precedent.

There's an argument to make for Vioxx, and Specter makes it persuasively. But he also tells a story of practiced deceit, political pressure, and retributive firing and ends his chapter saying: "Most people don't walk out the door trying to hurt other people." No, they don't. But most people don't run pharmaceutical companies. That pool is tiny. And a few bad apples could potentially poison the apple cart. So we hold them to higher standards....

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When last we saw the chefs in Vegas--as last week, Bravo tried to stretch out this boring season as much as possible by throwing in a random Top Chef reunion trainwreck dinner special--Douchebag Mike was being told to pack his Ed Hardy knives. So now here we are with only six chefs remaining. The episode kicks off with a quickfire at the Venetian. That's a different kitchen! The phone rings and it is Padma calling from bed. Room service breakfast in bed challenge, bitches, with Nigella Lawson to boot.

Because of the size of the kitchen, the chefs have to stagger their cooking in pairs. Robin and Bacon Shirt are first. Eli's making a beef reuben with a fried egg and thousand island hollandaise. Breakfast much? Robin is rushing and almost doesn't get her food on the plate. But she's the first to serve the robe-clad judges, and she's got a goat cheese blintz with carmelized pineapple and blueberries. Next up are Michael and Kevin, and the kitchen is messy. Brother Michael cleans, and Beardo Kevin makes steak and eggs. Michael ends up with a Cuban-inspired breakfast with eggs, rice, and banana. Now Jennifer and Bryan are cooking. Jen's making cream chipped beef on toast, while Bryan has a soft-boiled egg with vanilla fondue, crab, asparagus, and corn polenta. As Tim Gunn would say, "That's a whole lotta look." Nigella doesn't like the vanilla. Bottom two are Bryan and Robin, and top two are Kevin and Eli. The winner is Eli. Old Bacon Shirt gets his second quickfire win. I am sooooo hungry for breakfast right now....

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Bands mining traditional Americana sounds come a dime a dozen nowadays, but you can count the number of 'em that actually capture the unbridled joy of their influences on Mickey Mouse's left hand.

In a world of whinging neo-folkies and over-studied No Depression mewlers, Indian Valley Line sound like the real, wonderfully unaffected deal: Three guys who'd be just as happy bashing away at their unadorned country-bluegrass tunes on a front porch under a restless night sky as in front of an audience. Which makes being in an audience for one of their shows a party, pure and simple.

The band's surging acoustic sound alternates chugging Johnny Cash old-school rockers with the sweet sting of Ryan Lynch's weepy electric guitar, and lead singer Kevin "Bubba" Sur belts out the tunes in a warm and keening Woody Guthrie wail that can't help but put a smile on your face. The band's packing an armada of great material, too: "Cleveland" bounces down the road like a great lost Chet Atkins track, and I triple-dog-dare...

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The SunBreak's arts desk has been unusually busy this week and not keeping up on what's going on around town. So here's my attempt at catch-up:

Photo of the P-I globe by SunBreak Flickr pool contributor Great Beyond.

First off, a note from the Intiman popped into the inbox on Tuesday: "I’m writing to let you know that Sheila [Daniels] has decided to leave Intiman in order to make her life as a fulltime artist and activist, rather than an artist/activist who has a concurrent fulltime job as an administrator. We’re all very sad about it, but it’s a decision everyone at Intiman supports. Kate [Whoriskey, the incoming artistic director] was really hoping that Sheila would be able to direct next year and had offered her our American Cycle play, but Sheila had to turn it down, unfortunately, for a variety of reasons."

Daniels, who directed the current production of Abe Lincoln in Illinois, has been a leading light in Seattle theatre since 1994. She did a lot of work with Theater Schmeater over the years, and in 2007, she produced the much-loved 90-minute, three-actor version of Crime and Punishment at the Capitol Hill Arts Center, which she brought to the Intiman earlier this year. Back in 2007, Daniels took a full-time position as assistant artistic director at Intiman, and her departure comes as Bartlett Sher is still transitioning the artistic director helm to Kate Whoriskey.

Second, Ballard's Live Girls! Theatre is apparently becoming homeless, and it's at least partly by choice. TPS Online reported on Monday that artistic director Meghan Arnette had decided not to renew the company's lease on their downstairs space on Market St. and would instead seek to produce their work at different venues around town.

"Having our own venue has been an amazing asset and we have used it to gain a national reputation for supporting women in theater," Arnette wrote in her press release, "while presenting a wide variety of exciting and challenging new works."

Moving around town may just be the tonic Live Girls! needs. I rarely get out to catch their shows in Ballard, where there's not much theatre, which is unfortunate because Live Girls! typically does an excellent job, as evidenced by their current production of Bone Portraits. Going mobile, though, should help the company expand their mission to create meaningful opportunities for women in theatre, and Arnette apparently mentioned a potential collaboration with the Seattle Girls' School.

And third, there's an interesting show organized by local playwright Paul Mullin up at North Seattle Community College. Mullin and five other playwrights--Dawson Nichols, Scot Augustson, Kelleen Conway Blanchard, Pam Carter, Bryan Willis--collaborated to create a "living newspaper," a form of agitprop theatre that started during the Bolshevik Revolution, called It's not in the P-I: A Living Newspaper About a Dying Newspaper (7:30 p.m., tickets $10).

The idea behind living newspaper theatre was to perform the news for audiences as a way of urging social action. In this case, the show is about the death of the Seattle P-I and the state of media. It's supposed to be quite good, and this weekend, after Friday and Saturday's shows, the producers have cobbled together an impressive panel of media folks old and new to discuss the issues raised, including The Stranger's Paul Constant and the Seattle Times's cartoonist Dave Horsey.

Interestingly, the Times's theatre critic Misha Berson has apparently backed out of her advertised appearance on the panel.

This weekend's Athletes in Action Classic at Hec Edmundson Pavilion would be worth checking out even if the #14-ranked Huskies weren't playing.

All four teams competing won 20 games last year. Washington, Portland State and Belmont all made postseason tournaments. Each team will play each other team in a round-robin format, with two games each night on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

The three non-Husky teams in Tweet-sized bits:

Wright State's Todd Brown

Wright St. Raiders (Dayton, OH): Slow-tempo WSU return four starters from team that took Horizon League winners Butler down to the wire in league championship game. 6'5" G Todd Brown shot 40% from three. Play Huskies Friday.

Belmont Bruins (Nashville, TN): Fast-tempo team missed NCAA tourney last season for first time in five years. Now they graduate four starters and look to be rebuilding. Young team with 11 frosh or sophomores. Play Huskies Saturday.

Portland St. Vikings (Portland, OR): New coach is Tyler Geving after Ken Bone left for Wazzu. Also gone:...

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Actually, the last time I was in Ivar's, I noticed the $0.75 cup of chowder, but settled on the bowl, thinking I'd pay full freight. When the bill came, it was $1.50. So, full disclosure, I'm not all that worked up about the billboard hoax/prank, even though I asked my waiter for the straight dope. An underwater billboard campaign aimed at nonexistent submarines strained credulity.

The Seattle Times sounds a little nettled though. Executive Editor David Boardman says they are reviewing their relationship with Paul Dorpat, the local historian who vouched for the authenticity of the underwater billboard campaign, saying "As far as I can tell, it's the real thing."

The Times took Dorpat at his word, it sounds like, and never checked to see if the price was correct for 1955 (it wasn't) or noticed that the "wrong governor was put on the letterhead from the Department of Fisheries." But maybe this is the attitude a very important newspaper must take. Public trust, and all.

The important news here is that the...

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Thanks to seadevi for sharing this dreamy black and white shot. (From the SunBreak Flickr pool.)

Last spring Phoenix released Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, the feel-good album of the year that felt like a poppy antidote so much of the seriousness and bearded heft overtaking so many iPods. In Seattle, we eagerly scoured tour schedules and festival programs hoping that if they didn't at least grace us with their presence they'd at least make a stop within roadtripping distance.

All of that waiting was starting to feel futile, but now, at last, it seems that we haven't been forsaken by the Parisian electro-pop act that infused so many summer days and inspired so many YouTube mixes and re-mixes. They were just waiting for our desperation to reach levels significant enough to draw us into a cavernous venue for a commercial rock station's holiday party.

Sure, a spot headlining a medium-sized headlining spot would have been ideal, but it's still feels like a great winter gift that they'll be in town at all. You'll find them in the warm-up portion of a startlingly good lineup for the End's annual Deck the Hall Ball on December 15th at the WaMu Theater (the name survived the bank, apparently).

Moody English alternative rockers Muse headline the event; Jared Leto's gift to guyliner, 30 Seconds to Mars, gets the second-highest billing. Emily Haines's live-wire rock act Metric and the poppy preppy guys from Vampire Weekend open the show....

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We're on the cusp of a New Moon (the film is in theaters next Friday), so that means that adolescent girls everywhere (along with sad, middle-aged housewives) have a bad case of Twilight fever.  And the only cure is more vampires and/or big hair and/or the occasional werewolf.  Or movie tie-ins at the mall!

Tweens should head to the Hot Topic (natch) at Southcenter tomorrow night for the "Twilight Saga: New Moon cast tour," which doesn't involve cast members like Kristen Stewart or Robert Pattinson or Taylor "Dating Someone with the Same First Name" Werewolf.  But it will have Charlie Bewley (Demetri) and Daniel Cudmore (Felix) in appearance, along with Anya Marina, who has a song (above, "Satellite Heart") on the surprisingly moody-awesome indie cred-tastic soundtrack.  Full details here and here.  Basically, if you buy a Twilight t-shirt from Hot Topic in advance, you can get a poster signed. Otherwise, just show up for the singer and the cast Q&A.

Sad, middle-aged housewives should head to the Eastside (double natch) for a Twilight-themed menu at the Redmond Town Center Gold Class Cinemas, starting midnight on the 20th. Keep in mind that these books and movies are MADE FOR CHILDREN, and then try ordering a drink called "Edward's Cold Touch" without skeeving yourself out. Full menu for your perusal below.

"NEW MOON” MENU:

“Vegetarian” Stakes ~ $14  Picatta Seared Chicken Satay over Parmesan Risotto and Sautéed Spinach

Lion’s Love ~ $14  Paprika Seared Lamb Chops with Roasted Vegetable Cous Cous

Bella’s Birthday Cake ~ $9  Red Velvet Cake with Sour Cream Frosting with Dark Chocolate Sauce

“NEW MOON” COCKTAILS:

Bella’s Papercut ~ $9  Absolut Mandarin, Countreau, Grenadine

Edward’s Cold Touch ~ $9  Blueberry Stoli, Poma, Sprite, Blue Curacao

Jacob’s Warmth ~ $9  Clover coffee with Bailey’s, Rumpleminze, and whipped cream

Bartenders come and go, it's in their often footloose nature, but you expect a physical bar (not the building, but where you belly up) to stay put. The back bar at Tini Bigs made its home in a seafaring city, though, and it is a voyager. 100 years old, it was built in 1909 by Brunswick-Balke-Collender (you pool sharks may know them more briefly as simply Brunswick) in Dubuque, Iowa.

The reclaimed-wood and mirror bar first took up residence at the Watertown Tavern (at First and Bell). Tini Bigs founder Keith Robbins rescued it when Watertown closed, stashing it away until 1990. After he opened The Romper Room, the adjacent space became available, and he finally had a place to install his treasure: Tini Bigs Lounge.

If you're not of a nostalgic or historical bent, you can still profit from the centenary. Tonight from 6 p.m. until close, Tini Bigs is celebrating with drink specials and hoopla: Tini Bigs "10-ounce" Finlandia martinis are $4.50, the West Village Manhattan cocktail is $5.50, and Stella beers are a...

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Trying to describe the performances of Queen Shmooquan demands a literary acuity far beyond my limited powers. This last June, I saw Shmooquan at On the Boards, as part of the Northwest New Works Festival. She closed out a program of four, following up a doze-inducing semi-improvised dance number, and it was sort of like the heavens split open and a choir of angels began vomiting unicorns down on us all.

Entering on a bicycle and dressed like Prince, Shmooquan proceeded to perform her own downward spiral from aspiring actress to coke-addicted burn-out in a 20-minute performance replete with a degrading producer's couch audition, frequent mispronunciation of the word "vagina" (as in, The Bagina Monologues), and fake male genitalia made from a dildo and two maracas stuffed into a bra and hung between her legs.

In a word, it was awesome, and tonight and tomorrow (9:30 p.m., tickets $15), Queen Shmooquan is performing the evening-length work she turned that show into, the greatest Amerikin Hero ALIVE, at ACT...

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First it was the Bailey Coy Books closure, which, it being book-loving Seattle, generated all sorts of sturm und drang. But fairly soon on the heels of that announcement comes the news that the War Room may close if a buyer isn't found by the end of November. Last night, CHS reported on the shuttering, this Sunday, of the Taco Time on Madison Street.

Now, each of these announcements have their own history. As CHS points out, there has been a fast food exodus off Capitol Hill: "Hill outlets of Taco Bell, Jack in the Box, and Kentucky Fried Chicken have all closed within the past three years."

And of course nightclubs come and go. The War Room opened in March 2005, and its owners say simply that they've had a good run. There was a similar tone to Michael Wells' "farewell to all that" interview--possibly he could have responded more to the competition of online retail, Wells admitted, but he just wanted to sell books to people.

On the other hand, it's been a long, hard recession, and it's troubling to see businesses...

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Bobby Galer (UW Special Collections)

What with it being Veterans' Day and all (thanks, Dad and Grandpa!) I thought I'd search about for a local sports star who was also a veteran. I'd never heard of Robert "Bobby" Galer until this morning, though I should have: He's a member of the Washington Sports Hall of Fame.

Galer, known as "Goose" in his player days, was a forward on the Washington basketball team from 1933-1935. He was the top offensive threat for a fast-paced team (by that day's standards) which sportswriters dubbed "The Greyhounds." 

In Galer's junior year, the 1934 Dawgs won the Pacific Coast Conference Championship. Galer made All-America as a senior 1935, he's one of only 16 Huskies to do so.

But his more valuable distinction is this: Galer won the Congressional Medal of Honor, this nation's highest military award, for his service as a pilot in World War II.

Galer is one of eight University of Washington alums to have won the Medal of Honor; a on-campus memorial to them was dedicated this morning.

Here is the citation for the award Galer received in 1943 from President Roosevelt:

 

For conspicuous heroism and courage above and beyond the call of duty as leader of a marine fighter squadron in aerial combat with enemy Japanese forces in the Solomon Islands area. Leading his squadron repeatedly in daring and aggressive raids against Japanese aerial forces, vastly superior in numbers, Maj. Galer availed himself of every favorable attack opportunity, individually shooting down 11 enemy bomber and fighter aircraft over a period of 29 days. Though suffering the extreme physical strain attendant upon protracted fighter operations at an altitude above 25,000 feet, the squadron under his zealous and inspiring leadership shot down a total of 27 Japanese planes. His superb airmanship, his outstanding skill and personal valor reflect great credit upon Maj. Galer's gallant fighting spirit and upon the U.S. Naval Service.

Bobby Galer flew in both WWII and the Korean War. In World War II he was shot down three times, once having to swim for 90 minutes to reach shore. In Korea, he was shot down again and barely survived after his foot caught in a cockpit strap and he couldn't parachute out until he was 150 feet off the ground.

Galer retired from the Marines in 1959, working in real estate and engineering. He died in 2005; here's an excellent obituary in the Seattle Times. 

When last I heard of Will Conroy, he was trying to win a job with the Houston Rockets. Unfortunately, Conroy was the Rockets' final cut. The ever-steady former UW walk-on told a reporter: "At least I’ll get some rest. I haven’t slept the last three days. It’s frustrating, but it’s a done deal, so turn the page."

Will Conroy

The next page in Conroy's career reads right-to-left, as he's signed with the DongGuan New Century Leopards of the Chinese Basketball Association.

The article announcing Conroy's signing on the DongGuan website says this about him (according to Google Translate): "Conroy is a speed type of shooting guard, has a very strong penetration capabilities."

"Strong penetration capabilities." Who's going to argue with that?

Conroy led the NBA's Development League in scoring last year, having turned down more lucrative overseas offers for a chance at an NBA callup. He likely passed up yet more offers this year in his attempt to make Houston's roster. Hopefully he's getting...

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Ken Griffey, Jr., 13-time All-Star, slugger of 630 home runs, former guest star on the Harry and the Hendersons TV show, will return for his 13th season as a Mariner, the Seattle Times' Larry Stone is reporting.

Griffey's return to Seattle last season caused much rejoicing: my own reaction was to cancel evening plans and enjoy celebratory drinks with a longtime friend and Mariners rooter. The Mariners sold 23,000 tickets in two days.

The joy will be more muted this time--I'm not canceling any plans, and I doubt the Mariners will see much of a spike in ticket sales.

But I still have a smile on my face. If a different regime had brought Griffey back, I might worry that they planned to use him in a role greater than he could handle at this stage in his career.

But I trust Jack Zduriencik and Don Wakamatsu to utilize Griffey appropriately--giving him the odd start as a sometime DH, rolling the dice with him as a pinch hitter when they need a home run (à la Matt Stairs of the Phillies), and letting him play the role of leader, elder statesman, and Ichiro-tickler he filled so well last season.

The Mariners' 2010 season begins on April 5, 144 days from now, in Oakland.

Josh found some lasers at Broadway & Denny—the Sound Transit art installation. (From the SunBreak Flickr pool. Join up and add your photos.)

"Touchdown" courtesy of The SunBreak Flickr pool member Nareshe

Leaf blowers, besides a racket, create law-breaking litterbugs. We already have teenagers who ably fulfill these two functions, so I don't see why we can't ban leaf blowers. 

Yesterday as I walked out of The SunBreak offices, I was greeted with an expanse of leaf-free sidewalk, which wasn't all that surprising as I'd been tormented by the piercing whine of a leaf blower the last hour or so. Looking closer, I realized that the leaves from the neighbor's lawn and sidewalk had been blown into the street's gutter, leaving a dirt-and-leaf mâché along the sides of cars parked there.

While the benefits of this method of leaf dispersal were clear, I couldn't help but wonder if it was legal. It's not, says the internet. Blowing leaves into the street is littering. Not only does it slow down street cleaners, but the leaves block up storm drains and create huge standing puddles. (If you're an upstanding citizen, you can Adopt-A-Drain and help keep it clear.) Here's a link for yard waste information, if you need a yard waste can, But-I-Have-an-Excuse Guy....

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Mayor Mike McGinn

When the Seattle mayoral election was finally decided last night, after King County Elections dutifully counted up the votes, Joe Mallahan graciously conceded, and Governor Gregoire announced she was looking forward to working with the new mayor.

It sounded like business as usual, but Mike McGinn’s election was the biggest upset victory in Seattle politics in more than three decades. This was the 1980 U.S. hockey team over the Soviets, Truman over Dewey, David versus Goliath. It was an epic long shot and it shakes Seattle politics to its very core.

Seattle is no Chicago, but we have our own version of the political machine. Business, plus labor, plus the Democratic Party equals victory.

Mallahan won endorsements from state Democrats, the Governor, the Seattle Chamber of Commerce and its political arm the Alki Foundation, big business and labor. McGinn won the election.

Mallahan outspent McGinn by a 3.5-to-1 margin. Mallahan loaned his own campaign about as much as McGinn received in total. McGinn won the election.

Now, Seattle’s traditional powers-that-be are scrambling to figure out just how it all happened. All the money, all the powerbrokers, and all the political muscle didn’t deliver the knockout punch. There are all sorts of theories.

McGinn was helped by Mallahan’s complete ineffectiveness in debates. Mallahan struggled to get two thoughts together in a coherent fashion. In nearly every debate, he bobbled the easiest questions and completely missed on the major issues. The fact that McGinn’s lead increased as the counting went on suggests that the late voters broke for him, not Mallahan. Seems the longer Joe talked, the less people liked what they heard.

McGinn won the election just the way he said he did, by talking to people and by listening to people. He won by energizing his supporters with a message of common sense and a determination to fight for change....

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Fresh from Pearl Jam's official YouTube channel, the band's guitarist (and friends, including drummer Josh Freese) lovingly and face-contortingly covers Rick Astley's classic, meme-spawning (and iPhone worming) hit.

 

How can you not love that? Only thing missing is Gossard standing up and shaking those hips and fists. And I'm glad that's missing. (Hat tip to Sound on the Sound.)

Hey, it's the digital leaked music age! Latest evidence: One week ahead of Them Crooked Vultures' (Dave Grohl, John Paul Jones, Josh Homme) eponymous debut release, the whole thing is available (and legally so) on YouTube.

 

Of course you can "preorder the future," too; the iTunes version includes two bonus live tracks. Which of these dirty, huge-riff tracks will we hear at the Paramount November 21? All of them, I expect. And perhaps some Foo Fighters, QOTSA, and Zeppelin covers? Hope so.

What the hell, people? Tickets are still available.