Where Wolves?: Reclassifying wolves could have consequences

Posted inOutside

Where Wolves?: Reclassifying wolves could have consequences

Jim Anderson

This is the second installment in a two-part piece about the decision to remove gray wolves from the Endangered Species list in Montana and Idaho.
After the War, there was a lot of 1080 (known to the chemical industry as sodium fluoroacetate) stored in military installations around the US; it was too costly to destroy, so someone came up with the bright idea to give it to the rat-chokers to kill wildlife – and boy, did it ever! From mice to coyotes to eagles, 1080 did the job.
What no one knew at the time was that coyotes are not wolves, even though in some places in the U.S., like Texas, they're called, "wolves." Coyotes do not act, think, or behave like wolves.
If a male coyote (known as the "dog") pairs up with a female coyote, (known as a "bitch") produces 3 to 5 pups, and protects a territory, that's just fine and dandy, that's normal behavior. But if some menace, greater than family or territorial conflict, threatens the coyote, good old Darwin's ideas kick in. The dogs then run with up to three or four bitches, and instead of producing three or so pups, each bitch gives birth to up to eight young. Instead of one pair protecting a given territory, it's "every dog for itself and let's get what we can."

Posted inCulture

Something Close to the American Dream: My night of Bunco

Suzanne Burns

Call me the tumblin’ diceLast month I found myself the substitute player at a Bunco party where every one of the thirteen women was a former high school cheerleader. Me, the person who skipped any high school assembly remotely promoting "spirit" to drink coffee at Denny's, the classic dichotomy of Us vs. Them, the Jocks vs. the Goths, intense as gang warfare.

When I received the invitation to be a substitute player in the form of a cheery call from my sister-in-law, a twinge of post-angst nostalgia ground beneath my thirty-five-year-old bones. I was forced to cross a line no less important than a political or religious conviction, hanging out with my hometown's ex-cheerleaders. Still, I said yes, intrigued with the chance to observe my generation's version of something close to the American Dream.
I won't pretend to grasp why some girls want to be cheerleaders any more than I can understand why groups of women all over the country meet once a month to roll dice. And I hated to admit it, but I was nervous. As they say, I didn't want to throw away the "street cred" I had earned from years of calf-busting platform shoes and Morrissey concerts and too many bottles of black nail polish to count just to fit in - even for one night.

Posted inOutside

California Dreamin’: Soul Surfing and Riding Down Memory Lane

Pam Stevenson

Surfing Santa CruzThe Mamas and the Papas pop into my head about this time every year:
"All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray
I've been for a walk
On a winter's day.
I'd be safe and warm
If I was in L.A.
California dreamin'
On such a winter's day."
When Winter is clinging onto Central Oregon like gummy klister, I like to kick start spring with a sojourn south. So, last week, I piled my road bike, mountain bike, surfboard and dog into my van and roadtripped down to Santa Cruz for some surfing and then continued on to Palo Alto for some riding. Nothing was going to stop me from getting much-needed saltwater therapy and a Vitamin D infusion - not even the tire schrapnel on I-5 that ripped off my bumper grill and took out the air conditioning on the 92-degree day that began our journey.
SURFIN' SANTA CRUZ
Santa Cruz is a 10-hour drive from Bend and a surfing epicenter. Birthplace of O'Neil Wetsuits, board shops line the city streets and the Surfing Museum sits atop a pink and yellow iceplant-blanketed bluff overlooking reknowned Steamer Lane, a world-class point break. (Sadly, the city has shut down the the museum for economic reasons, and a local group is trying to raise $30,000 to keep it alive.) Once you're a surfer, places like this feel like home. For me, even more so, because the ashes of my dear, dear friend Dave Stevenson ride the waves at Steamer's.

Posted inCulture

Mafia Monopoloy: Latest Godfather has the goods

Mike Bookey

I started out with no respect for The Godfather II. In The Godfather: The Game, classic scenes from one of the world's greatest movies were fumblingly recreated with a videogame engine, and the gameplay never coalesced into a coherent experience. With things tending in that direction, I thought that a videogame sequel named after an even better film could only get worse.

But after the first few minutes, I realized that The Godfather II was leaving the movies far behind. Sure, there were a few characters that made the awkward transition into the game world. And the basic scenario takes its cues from The Godfather Part II. But for the most part, the videogame sequel concentrates on tweaking the core gameplay that the first game established.
The Godfather II is, at heart, a game of mobster Monopoly. Even though it affects a Grand Theft Auto III style, most of the game is about building and operating a mafia empire. There are occasional car chases and plenty of shootouts, but The Godfather II wisely limits the number of "drive around" missions, and concentrates on team-building and business operations. It's all about managing the turf and making money from whores, junk and dope.

Posted inCulture

Misinformed: Beautiful messed up people make ugly messed up movie

Mike Bookey

The Thriller video shoot is next door, guys. It's not until about three-quarters of the way through that you get to find out why this movie is called The Informers, and by then it's far too late to care. The opening scene starts out just fine, a party rife with '80s fashion and hairstyles, blaring "New Gold Dream" by Simple Minds. It was initially entertaining to see these circa-1983 dudes and chicks wearing Ray Bans, relentlessly looking like a take-themselves-way-too-seriously Breakfast Club, but it spiraled down fast from there. It takes a little under 10 minutes to figure out that The Informers is going to be one long dreary and tedious ride into the land of lame cinema.

The plot follows four or five different stories that barely interlock. There are LA cocktails, sushi and arugula salads. There's Billy Bob Thornton as a dazed-and-confused movie producer, his haggard, sex-addicted wife played by Kim Basinger, Wynona Ryder as a TV newscaster, Mickey Rourke as a sleazy kidnapper turned wimp, and Chris Isaak playing a drunken dad. But the lesser-knowns do most of the heavy lifting, Mel Raido plays drug-addled rock star Brian Metro; the late Brad Renfro (Ghost World) in his last role is Jack, a chubby and super nervous desk clerk, and Jon Foster (Windfall - What, you've never heard of it?) is Graham whom I guess one could say the story revolves around.

Posted inCulture

The Mind’s Ear: Outstanding cast boosts The Soloist

Mike Bookey

What's right with this picture?About two weeks ago, Los Angeles Times columnist Steve Lopez spoke on
Capitol Hill about issues related to homelessness in American cities.
Specifically, he discussed his personal and professional relationship
with mentally ill musician Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, played by Jamie
Foxx in The Soloist. It wasn't exactly the standard late-night talk
show type of appearance you expect in advance of a studio movie, but
then again The Soloist isn't your usual Hollywood rags-to-riches
redemption story.

With The Soloist, director Joe Wright scorches
the screen with the same mixture of fantasy and grungy reality that he
used in Atonement.This is probably the first film of 2009 that has
serious Oscar aspirations.
Robert Downey, Jr. plays Lopez, the
intrepid columnist who spies Ayers in a not-so-chance meeting by a
statue of Beethoven in downtown Los Angeles. From there, Lopez learns
that Ayers is a former Julliard student with tremendous promise whose
life was turned upside-down by voices in his head. An interesting
newspaper column idea evolves into something more personal and profound
that grows into friendship.

Posted inMusic

Nershi Gives Us a Little Slice of Cheese

The Source Staff

Nershi's been letting it grow long since SCI.One of the best things about the scheduled String Cheese Incident
reunion this July at the Rothbury Festival in Michigan is that we no
longer have to refer to Bill Nershi as the "former String Cheese
Incident front man." Well, of course there are some ancillary benefits
like, well, the fact that SCI is back together, albeit for one show,
but together nonetheless.

You'll have to fly out to Michigan to see
the real-deal SCI in 2009, but Nershi is bringing his fast-picking
guitar and trademark folksy vocal stylings to Bend when he teams up
with Portland's Piano Throwers, an all-star cross-genre Americana
troupe. The Piano Throwers are comprised of guitar hero Scott Law (who
plays guitar and mandolin in Nershi's other, other band Honkeytonk
Homeslice), former Leftover Salmon bassist Tye North and Carlton
Jackson, a revered Northwest drummer. So yeah, there's plenty of skill
to be had in that camp.

Posted inMusic

Comedy, Folk and Crayons

The Source Staff

Emma Hill. Not pictured: Her totally awesome Gentleman Callers.

Laughing and listening, we do both here at Sound Check. We also play checkers, draw crayon depictions of famous U.S. landmarks (we do a friggin’ awesome East St. Louis Public Library) and like to take our shoes off under our desks when no one is looking, but that’s all probably beside the point.
But anyway, we started this news cycle (that’s what we call a “week” when we’re trying to impress people like you) by getting the last couple seats at Randy Liedtke’s comedy show at the Summit Saloon and Stage. The packed room got its laugh on early with a set from loveably drunk comic Kyle Kinane who told jokes about suicide, drunken driving and leaving babies in hot cars, which was hilarious…but you kinda had to be there.

Posted inMusic

Making it Epic: Sitting in with Empty Space Orchestra

The Source Staff

Lindsey, you forgot your glasses.About a story underground and lounging amongst scattered drum cases and
other instruments, the entirety of Empty Space Orchestra is gathered in
silence while a surging whirlwind of an instrumental rock song thunders
through the room. Lindsey Elias is tapping her feet with the rapidity
of the last bounces of a ping-pong ball, matching the complex rhythms
booming from the computer speakers, which makes sense, because she's
the drummer.

Leaning back in a chair in front of a computer supplying
the aforementioned song, Shane Thomas unleashes a grin from the side of
his mouth as a heavily distorted guitar melts into the song, which
makes sense because he's the guitarist. Bassist, and the band's newest
member, Patrick Pearsall and keyboardist Keith O'Dell stare at the
floor, taking in the song, which they tell me is called "Clouds."
This
is a live recording of a recent rehearsal in the underground practice
space that they share with a number of other local bands, but the new
sound of Empty Space Orchestra comes through clear. It's a tougher,
bigger, beefier, faster sound than on the exclusively instrumental
debut disc, Big Bang, which it should be mentioned, won't hit the
streets until the band's McMenamins show on May 6. A band starkly
changing its sound after only a year in existence isn't typical, and
perhaps not particularly wise, but for Empty Space, a staggeringly
unique rock/jazz/everything else band that's achieved almost un-rivaled
popularity in Bend, it's all understandable.

Sign up for newsletters

Get the best of The Source - Bend, Oregon directly in your email inbox.

Sending to:

Gift this article