Obviously, the Kansas City Police Department has had a long 24 hours. It held a press release at 3 this afternoon to talk about yesterday’s shootout at Ward Parkway Center and has been e-mailing updates to media outlets all day.
We’re thinking someone might need a nap. One of those e-mails, from KCPD spokesman Darin Snapp, which we received at 11:52 a.m., read simply:
It should be noted that Patricia Reed is a white female, Leslie Ballew
is a white female and Luke Nilges is a white male.
The KCPD just released the details on the suspect in Sunday's shooting. They say it's "51yr old David Logsdon from Kansas City, MO."
If you’ve had one conversation about yesterday’s shooting at the Ward Parkway Center, you probably talked about the last time you were there. For me, it was late Saturday, when I went to sign up last-minute for the Trolley Run.
A good friend of mine was volunteering, directing the other procrastinators where they needed to go to fill out paperwork and get their T-shirts. The store rented out by the Trolley Run was full of good-intentioned people giving up their Saturday to make sure other people who had put off signing up could still run. It’s goddamned frightening to imagine that, if that lunatic had started shooting 24 hours earlier, my friend and the other volunteers may have been among the victims. And it’s goddamned frightening to think that the victims were just as innocent, just as undeserving of someone’s fucked-in-the-head act.
Fred Phelps’ infamy is spreading across the pond. The anti-gay Topeka preacher and his faithful flock were recently documented by Louis Theroux, an English broadcaster with the British Broadcasting Company and a former correspondent with Michael Moore’s TV Nation. Theroux hosted the documentary The Most Hated Family in America, which debuted on BBC 2 to more than 4 million Brits. The BBC is in negotiations with cable channels in the states to air the show, although it’s already available via YouTube (the video above is a clip from the film). Theroux took time out to talk about butting heads with Fred, empathizing with the young women in the church and going to hell.
On a sunny Saturday like today, yard sale signs in Brookside make the place look like it's election time again, except there's crap being sold instead of crappy candidates. But there was one at Gregory and Edgevale this morning that caught my eye. Down at the bottom of the store-bought sign were stickers advertising "Oprah for President '08."
A couple blocks north, I found the home of Patrick Crowe. If you haven't heard of him, the former car wash owner has been trying to get his favorite talk show host to run for president for more than a year now.
And in almost every way, Crowe's campaign has been a rousing success. He’s gotten loads of publicity, appearing on a half-dozen TV shows, on 25 radio programs and in another 10 newspaper articles, from London to Palm Springs. There’s just one thing he hasn’t been able to do: convince Oprah to run.
Once you've been to all the shows we talked about (or at least the ones between now and Sunday) in the music section, regroup with some retail therapy at the Zebedee's-sponsored record sale, from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Westport-Roanoke Community Center (3601 Roanoke Road). In addition to LPs, 45s and 78s, there'll be CDs, posters, videos and other music junkie merch -- 30 tables of it, they claim. There will also be a lot of introverts shuffling around, dying for a nice, sensitive person like you to hit on them under the pretext of talking about a Richard & Linda Thompson album and take them home and listen to Radio Birdman, the legendary 70s Australian punk band whose latest release, Zeno Beach, broke a 25-year spell of studio silence. Why's that interesting?
Because Radio Birdman's coming to the Record Bar, on Friday, July 13. There aren't many shows happening anywhere, period, that earn music fans of my generation bragging rites. I think in a few decades, I'll be telling the old boys down at the pub where and when I saw Radio Birdman on a hot Friday the 13th in July in Kansas City.
Radio Birdman does "New Race" live in '77
Witch and Hare, Central Standard, The Ssion. Thursday, April 24, at the Brick
Concert Review by Megan Metzger
Thursday night I pulled up to a reasonably crowded Brick to check out art punk and danceparty sensation, the Ssion [this week's cover --Ed.]. I feared there would be too many younger kids sporting cut-offs and body odor, but I was lucky to find an even mix of “that type” and plain ol’ normalish people like me.
Now, I have nothing against the kids. They’re an integral part of the music scene. If it weren’t for them, acts like Glass Candy and Lightning Bolt would probably never show their faces in this town. But that unabashed vigor and devil-may-care attitude towards personal hygiene makes me feel like some unhip dissaproving grandma. It’s totally my L-7 square cross to bear.
But I digress.
The Ssion: Critcheloe (left) and Miller
At 3 p.m. on Saturday, the non-profit organization Invisible Children is hosting a nationwide event to demand talks with the United States to end the war in Northern Uganda. There are an estimated 1.5 million displaced Ugandans living in refugee camps. About 1,700 Kansas Citians have signed up to attend the event at Kaw Point Riverfront Park (1 River City Drive, Kansas City, Kansas).
Hello! My name is Samantha. I’m an orphan, and I live with my wealthy grandmother in a turn-of-the-century house. It’s a style called a “gingerbread house.” I attend Miss Crampton’s Academy, a school situated in a fine private home. Miss Crampton teaches us penmanship, geography, arithmetic and history. On special occasions, I enjoy visiting Tyson’s Ice Cream parlor, and trips to Grandmary’s summer house at Piney Point.
I would like to get to know you! You can meet me at the American Girl Doll Exhibit at Kansas City’s Toy and Miniature Museum (5235 Oak).
Recently, a friend of mine called me from his seat on the patio of P.F. Chang’s on the Plaza to report, somewhat hysterically, that the Seville-inspired architecture was decorated with swastikas.
I initially assumed he’d had a few too many lychee-and-green-tea-infused cocktails, so I filed his message under W for “Whatthefuckever.”
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