Clowns, superheroes disrupt Seattle “May Day” march: This year’s labor and immigration march in Seattle was relatively peaceful compared to last year’s violent riot between anarchists, local businesses and the police. KPLU reports Wednesday’s march was “relatively peaceful” according to police, with the exception of a “brief disturbance” between people dressed as superheroes and people dressed as clowns. [More from KPLU]
Things were better in Seattle back when everyone was just trendy and on heroin.
It’s like if A Christmas Story had been directed by Michael Haneke.
Mostly. Haneke would have taken it a step further and implicated all of us in the incident. Perhaps not unfairly.
When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
“Who dares?” he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him —“who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him —that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!”
It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly —for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple —through the purple to the green —through the green to the orange —through this again to the white —and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry —and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Woooooooooow. That was fun.
“Nancy Jo, This is Alexis Neiers calling. I’m calling to let you know how disappointed I am in your story. There’s many things that I read in here that were false, like you saying that I wore six-inch Louboutin heels to court with my tweed skirt when I wore 4-inch little brown Bebe shoes!”
Say what you will about Alexis Neiers, but she’s right about journalism’s Louboutin problem. #corrections
The Washington Post does need an ombudsman.