If the idea of slogging through a four-hour concert special that’s as confusing as it is boring to watch holds some appeal for you, then boy has HBO got your number.
Few things are quite as good as pie. Whiffies Fried Pies, a cart located at Southeast 12th Avenue and Hawthorne Boulevard, seems to understand this. Their brand of handheld deliciousness—both in dessert and dinner flavors—is some of the best cart eating our city has to offer.
It’s not hard to describe the formula behind the essay topics of Chuck Klosterman’s new book Eating the Dinosaur.
Attention deficit disorder is a weird phenomenon. It has the distinction of being both demonstrably true—people these days are addled with short attention spans and twitchy legs—and demonstrably constructed.
Every year, the Northwest Film Center presents the Northwest Film and Video Festival, designed as both a showcase and reminder of this essential fact: Our rainy region has a pretty damn good filmmaking scene.
“Celebrities are people too!”
There are many different reasons why we watch TV or like a certain show. I like to watch comedies because I’m interested in how jokes work.
We are living in a time of nightmares made real, where reality and non-reality are bending in the minds of the weak, creating a craven illusion in their twisted psyches. I am, of course, talking about reality TV.
It was a packed house at the Peter Stott Center last Saturday night, with all eyes watching the space just below the basketball hoop on the gym’s west side.
So what if my face is a little colder than yours? I’ll admit it: I’m a little jealous.
A serial killer is at his most honest when he’s doing his killing: when the knife blade glides through the flesh, when the hands work soft skin raw, and the flash and burn of a muzzle foretells destructive bloodletting.