BY AMY Z. QUINN Like time, news waits for no man. Keeping up with the funny papers has always been an all-day job, even in the pre-Internets era. These days, however, it’s a two-man job. That’s right — these days you need someone to do your reading for you, or risk falling hopelessly behind and, as a result, increasing your chances of dying lonely and somewhat bitter. Hey, we know how it is … so many words to read, so little time to surf for free porn. That’s why every week, PAPERBOY does your alt-weekly reading for you, freeing up valuable nanoseconds that can now be better spent roughing up the suspect over at Suicide Girls or what have you. Every week we pore over those time-consuming cover stories and give you the takeaway, suss out the cover art, warn you off the ink-wasters and steer you towards the gooey caramel center each edition. Why? Because we like you.
OUT FRONT
PHILADELPHIA WEEKLY: File this under Great Pickup Lines In History: “You guys ever have sex in an alley? It’s
awesome.” This comes from St. John Barned-Smith’s story on the beating death of a 215 crusty punk and the arrest of two crusty clowns for the crime, a piece that is impressive in its reporting, rife with chilling detail, telling quotes and — best of all — straight-ahead writing, save for a gorgeous closing section. It also reveals just how not “lost” is this generation of 21st Century neo-hobos:
One posting on a MySpace page where several members of the online crusty community discussed the murder said he was “a world-class hockey player” who once participated in the United States Olympic Elite Athlete program. According to their records, Bradly played on the U.S. Roller Hockey team when he was 15.
Seriously, this guy’s an intern? Do yourselves a favor and hire him with the quickness, because that story was definitely one for the resume clip file.
CITY PAPER: Look, we’ve all heard the police commissioner make his favorite comment, about how when kids are shot in the street, nobody sees anything, but let the cops shoot someone — in this case, a guy standing in the middle of a South Philadelphia intersection, probably stoned out of his gourd and definitely waving a gun around — and suddenly everybody’s a witness. Of course, there is a kind of logic in that statement, but as a community relations strategy, it doesn’t hold water. Not the drinkable kind, anyway. Steven “Butter” Miller died in a blizzard of hot cop lead, 85 shots in all, in the intersection of Taney and Tasker, a seemingly inexplicable end to a seemingly normal day revealed in detailed reporting by Tom Namako and Doron Taussig. It’s a complicated story about a complicated set of challenges facing the city, and reveals some uncomfortable details about the state of policing in the city of Philadelphia.
“Even someone who thinks Butter deserved what he got has to be worried when police miss their target 65 times, and let their bullets sail off into what residents say was a bustling neighborhood.”
INSIDE THE BOOK
PW: Over in Pop Rocks, the menfolk are acting up — tough-guy wallets, cheapass rum, Zombie Tag, and an almost incomprehensible ode to the dork superhero of a graphic novel! Will someone get these guys laid, please? Liz Spikol on Walking Broad, that new book about walking down Broad Street (of course, it’s much more than that). Trying to read PW online using the city’s EarthLink wireless? How’s that workin’ for ya?
CP: Bruce Shimmel bitchslaps Reading Terminal with some way-crisp salad greens he just bought at the Headhouse Farmer’s Market. The hard truth? That Reading Terminal is not in danger of turning “just a food court and tourist trap” — it’s already been that way for a while now. A CD review of some recently-discovered old-timey smut recordings — aww, and just a bit too late for my birthday. OK, sneaking into someone’s house to paw at their stuff is weird, but to steal the ashes of a beloved doggie now gone to his reward? That’s deep.
WINNER: CP, With 84 Shots Left Over