A Message from the Print Edition
You're reading this on your computer screen, so I'm not sure you love me anymore. But you should, because I'm beautiful, namely due to glorious photographs and the graphic design acumen of one Jane Sherman. I'm the print edition of Seattle Weekly, and here's (some of) what's in me this week:
A Bellingham-bred "bro-funk" band that crashes through indie-rock cliches on the low road to candor.
What's Eddie Bauer doing on Mount Everest?
The late slumlord's stove never worked, but he made a shitload of dough.
A crawfish restaurant in the ID? Not a fish out of water.
Plays: not just for gays.
Alcohol makes people quarrel, then kiss and make up.
Crappy white wine isn't all there is to drink with oysters.
Star Trek's not just for nerds no more.
If Joni Mitchell and Jeff Mangum had a kid, what would it look like? It'd look like Laura Gibson.
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