Culture Features

Gonna get all wacky on ya. The earliest traces of satire can be found on ancient Egyptian papyrus, poking fun at various trades in society. The roots of western political satire date to the works of Aristophanes in ancient Greece. A more modern foundation for satirical treatment of politicians can be traced to Swift's "Gulliver's Travels".
 
And there is no shortage of political satire in the United States, (who doesn't, these days, recognize Jon Stewart's face) Television personalities aren't the only ones mining this rich vein of material, thespians are getting into the act as well. Enter the Capitol Steps, a unique group that incorporates drama, music, and comedy in their send up of current American political figures and issues. The D.C.-based troupe has been creating active caricatures for the American public since 1981. The goal is simple, says troupe member Mark Eaton.
 

Brushing up on tile work. Bend artist Cristina Acosta is challenging the old truism that art imitates life. A painter, Acosta has learned to let her art into her everyday world.
"At one point I realized that I needed to take my art off of the canvas, and put it into my life," says Acosta
Acosta's vivid and joyful painting ranges from traditional Mexican influenced Madonnas and tri-paneled ex-votos to her "Paint Happy" series of flowing still lifes. They all explode with the color of an artist doing more than putting paint to canvas. Acosta has transformed her art in a business with her tile painting and color consultation services.
Originally trained at the university level in fine arts, Acosta has branched out dramatically - although this was not necessarily easy. The elite art world of the 1980's didn't necessarily encourage disciplines like tile painting and home decor. However, she says, "I realized that everything could start becoming art for me, and that was incredibly fun. It opened up a whole new world for me."

The open mic: where stage fright goes to die.It's one of the only places in the world where you can wash your laundry while toasting fine tequila over a game of pool as you tap your feet to the strumming rhythms of a singer/songwriter's acoustic guitar. The M&J Tavern is a proud host of a weekly open mic on Wednesday nights. If the tavern with its cement floor, pool tables, video poker machines and long rustic bar and old school juke box, could be personified it would be Bob Dylan during his country stint in the late 1960s.
 
It's been just over a year now since I first signed my name on the open mic performer's list. The sign-up sheet is sometimes full with visiting and local musicians. On other nights it's marked with just a few signatures. Initially, I was motivated to get a new music project, Kousefly, then a duo, out of the stuffy garage and in front of people; it was a nerve-racking, gut-wrenching and humbling experience. But I loved every second of it and was hooked immediately.

They descend from a patriarch who made a fortune in the wild west of early 20th century capitalism. Their family history is haunted by airplane crashes, illegitimate children, and the great expectations of a public life. Many of them were educated at elite preps schools and America's best universities. They are not the Kennedys, but another dynasty of sorts - the bin Ladens.
 
In this fascinating, well-told new book, Pulitzer Prize winner Steve Coll paints a vivid portrait of Saudia Arabia's most visible merchant class family. Americans became aware of them after one of Mohammed Bin Laden's 54 (legitimate) children, Osama, masterminded the terrorist attacks of September 11th. But their name would not be news to anyone around the Middle East.
In Saudia Arabia, the bin Laden name was synonymous with building. Mohammed left the desert wild of Yemen and came to Saudi Arabia and earned a fortune as a foreman, at first through sweat labor and talent, and later by skillfully manipulating his connections to the royal family.

A window onto the wall. You know David Kinker's work, even if you do not know David Kinker. You may have noticed the murals and sign paintings by this 19-year Central Oregon resident enlivening the likes of the Deschutes Brewery, McMenamins OId St. Francis School, and St. Charles Hospital, among many others. Or you may simply have noticed the way a seemingly unremarkable wall in a public place actually expanded the space, deepening its connection with the viewer.
 
Kinker grew up between Arizona and an area outside of Jackson, Wyoming. He has painted the Grand Canyon, but only on commission.
"Arizona is my history," he says, "but Bend is my home."

Mollie Hogan knows how to hoop it up with the best of them.A passing train blocks the sunset, momentarily dimming the Mountain
Comfort Warehouse, but the rhythm of the train can't compete with the
tribal beats emanating from a small stereo system. Twenty-eight bodies
fill the warehouse with spinning hoops gyrating around their waists.
Some of the Hoopers (don't call them HulaHoopers-that's patented by
Wham-O…think "disc golf" versus Frisbee) move with ballet grace, some
channel a funky hand jive, some are as sensual as belly dancers, and a
few are still looking for a groove. They've been hooping spontaneously
for the last five minutes, starting to shed layers, dewy faces grinning.

The cup never lies.It seems pretty simple: A pint equals 16 ounces. So when you go into a bar, pub or restaurant and order a pint of beer you'll get 16 ounces of beer, right?

Well, maybe. Or maybe you'll get only 14 ounces. Or 13, or even 12.
Like most naïve beer drinkers, I always assumed that when I paid for a pint I got a pint. It was only after stumbling across Portlander Jeff Alworth's "Beervana" blog that the hideous truth began to dawn on me.