Posted inNews

Introducing: The Underground

First off, if you haven't noticed yet, there is finally some action on the north end of Third Street in the long vacant and almost-forgotten Club 97 location. Once the nucleus of Bend's nightlife scene, the expansive club has been sitting empty for several years now - until this week, when The Underground opens in that location.

Posted inOpinion

Got It Backwards

Could someone please explain why if we, the people, want
more education we have to vote to raise our property taxes, but if we want to
vote for more "lock up your neighbor laws," those are funded out of the general
fund. Why can't we vote for "educate your neighbor" laws to be enacted out of
the general fund? I wonder if measure 57 would have passed if voters would have
had to agree to pay for those estimated 3.

Posted inOpinion

Don’t Ignore Honduras

Central America is a blind spot in America's consciousness,
a region that can hardly be thought to matter much in the face of economic
meltdown and two wars in the Middle East. But few regions have as direct an
impact on the USA as Central America does.

Posted inCulture

A Peach at 40: A day at the Oregon Country Fair

Andre the Giant's basket weaving tutorial starts at noon. Twenty years ago, I attended my first Oregon Country Fair. It was a spontaneous adventure, unsanctioned by my parents, who believed me to be waterskiing. I've still never waterskied, but I've returned to the OCF numerous times over the past twenty years. I've escorted first-timers and have accompanied savvy fairsters, I've gone for multiple days and for just afternoons, have camped in some truly strange situations, and I have many memories - and some lost memories - from those past jaunts. This year was the 40th anniversary of the OCF and not a lot has changed.

It's true that you can wear whatever you want or as little as you want (best to paint those parts). Costumes, masks, and stilts abound. People-watching and shameless eavesdropping are de rigueur. This year, I saw a white-faced bozo-clown smack a loin-clothed, lovely and manly hippie-boy on his bare derriere. I saw whimsically painted pregnant bellies and naked parts I'd have preferred to have ignored. I love the loops of maze-like trails, the pockets of peacefulness along the stream, and the shady dragon-benches to take a respite from the shuffling, meandering masses, constant streams of dusty, compacted, variously scented fairsters searching for something special-a lantern, a massage, spiritual inspiration. Honestly, I was tempted to stop and talk to the shaman; what might he have advised?

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