The other day I sat down to a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a big glass of milk and turned on the TV to watch the sexiest woman in all of broadcasting, Jim Forman. What I wouldn't do to have him interview morning DJs around town. Anyway, there he was on the TV, standing in front of my mother's house in Spokane! I cranked the volume and concentrated not on the chiseled physique of that redhead, but on the words he spoke about my hometown. The Spokane police had captured a suspected serial killer accused of murdering at least 18 women, and he lived just up the street from my old house. Apparently his white Corvette gave him away. In a town where four out of five cars are a truck, I can see how this clue tipped off the cops. The sad part of this story is that I wasn't shocked to find out that a monster could be living on my street. Even though we lived in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in the suburbs, it didn't surprise me at all. That town is pure backward evil, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. There is no culture, no history, no teriyaki restaurants, and not a single building downtown that isn't the color of dirt. Besides the 1974 World's Fair, Utah Jazz guard John Stockton, and the movie Vision Quest being filmed there, not a damn thing can be said in its defense. The only musicians to ever come out of Spokane were Bing Crosby and the Makers. And if you hear the new Makers release Rock Star God (Sub Pop), you'll agree with me that some things should just never venture out of the Inland Empire.
John Richards hates Spokane every weekday morning from 6-10am on KCMU 90.3 FM and live on the Web at www.kcmu.org, even in Moses Lake.