It seems to look a little sadder each time I drive by. Yet there’s something still intriguing about the ramshackle Spokane Street Motel at Second and Spokane. The classic, though now-broken sign, looks out of place in a commercial landscape of cheap neon and cookie-cutter plastic. As long as it exists, the landmark Spokane Street Motel will be a
Nobody knows who started Mexico’s legendary frog mummification industry. Or why so many tourists found these things appealing enough to plunk down a few pesos and bring them back home. But there is something odd and compelling about a frog band rocking out on their faux instruments...
Welcome to Clarksville, where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average. No, wait. That’s Lake Wobegon.
It’s a damn shame that my father died decades before TV’s hit show “Shark Tank” came along. There’s no telling what sort of deal he could have made by submitting his prototype for solving that age-old question, “Does a bear (bleep) in the woods?” Answer: The bear certainly can if it’s equipped with my old man’s bathroom breakthrough...
The packaging makes it all look so scrumptious. Succulent pieces of turkey, round and evenly cut. A dollop of amber gravy rests on a plump meaty slice. Snowy mashed potatoes adorned with melted golden cheddar and rosy bacon flecks. “Honey Roasted Turkey Breast,” declares the Marie Callender’s text. Mmm. Mmm...
Some men search for power. Others search for gold. Mike Fagan found both at City Hall. Power came from being elected to the Spokane City Council. Gold came in the form of a medallion honoring his status as a "Proud Member of the 'I've Been...
You wander through downtown Spokane. You look up and scream. That’s because the “King of Glory” is glaring down at you from the south side of the old Pioneer Pathway House building. “King of Zombies” is more like it. The cadaverous, crown-wearing figure looks like...
Haggis, the survival sausage of Scotland, is made from sheep livers, hearts, kidney parts, oats, motor oil, cobwebs and lord knows what else. It oozed darkly in a pot at the end of the banquet table last Saturday at Bruce Ridley’s annual party in honor...
Thoughts and ruminations from S-R columnist Doug Clark
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