Doug Clark

If you have no scruples and an itch to put the screws to an enemy, here's a dangerously easy way to do it. Pick up the telephone and dial 1-800-388-GROW. Make up a story that so-and-so is growing pot. You don't have to identify yourself. No calls to Washington's Marijuana Hotline are traced.

Some woman in Bangor, Maine, tries to track down a document. A reporter in Boise wants information on a City Council meeting. A guy in Boston needs to talk to a zoning official. These people haven't met. The only thing they have in common is that whatever they're after centers in the Spokane City Hall. So they dial 1-509-555-1212 and a phone company android gives them a number. That's when the weirdness sets in.

As spokesman for the alumni of Eastern Washington University, I have prepared a brief statement regarding the proposed takeover of our beloved alma mater by Washington State University: "Yahoo! We're going to the Roooose Bowl!" Letting WSU gobble Eastern is a terrific idea. Without paying a cent in tuition or attending another class we can - 1) Upgrade our unassuming diplomas, and 2) Jump onto the Pasadena-bound Cougar bandwagon. Being Cougs requires mastering some new social skills. Ex-Eagles must learn how to garble the WSU Fight Song while guzzling a six-pack of beer.

Rolling Stones' Keith Richards knocks out "Satisfaction" on Friday night in the Seattle Kingdome. Photo by Dan Pelle/The Spokesman-Review

Today is Thanksgiving, which means the yearly war over the drumsticks will be waged across America's dinner tables. But for two of Spokane's biggest turkeys, I mean attorneys, the drumstick tug-of-war is a year-round wishbone of contention. Meet Joe Esposito and Bill Tombari, lawyering delinquents who share a downtown practice in the ornate old Paulsen Center.

Forget the surgeon general's warnings. Forget suing Big Tobacco. Forget Joe Camel. If anti-nicotine fanatics really want to dump cold water on the rampant rise in young smokers, here's a sure-fire way to do it. Hand every high school kid a pipe and tobacco. Make them spend an hour a day fuming like chimneys.

Robert Cray Friday, Nov. 21, Masonic Temple Forget for a moment the clean, soul-piercing voice that has given Robert Cray his rightful place among the ranks of history's greatest bluesmen. Consider Cray's guitar playing. Sure, many of his peers can play faster. Sure, many pickers are blessed with a more complex command of the fingerboard.

Don't you miss Ice Storm? Don't you miss the bowls of pasta and deli sandwiches, cherry pie and hot spiced cider? Don't you miss the relaxed conversation of neighbors getting to know neighbors? Don't you miss the festive green napkins with little snowflake designs? Don't you miss ...? Wait a second. That wasn't Ice Storm. That was the scene at John and Nancy Janzen's Ice Storm block party Friday night in the Spokane couple's cozy South Hill home. To commemorate the first anniversary of the weather event that so thoroughly shivered our timbers, the Janzens boldly turned off their furnace and lights. They threw caution to the night wind and left open the front door. They fired up dozens of candles. Residents of the west 600 block of 17th crowded in to stand around the blazing fireplace and recount their frostbitten adventures of yesteryear. Survivors of the Titanic no doubt threw similar shindigs. SURVIVOR ONE: "So I told the band leader that although 'Nearer My God to Thee' is a highly inspirational tune, nobody was going to dance if they didn't start playing something with a beat."

Human skulls ... perfect for alternative religious practices. $600 each. Call 466- ... Time to check in on the further misadventures of my favorite eccentrics - those wacky Muellers. When we last visited the north Spokane couple, Herb Mueller was grousing about having to share his bed with Doo Dee, his wife Pam's pet chicken. The Rhode Island red watches "Geraldo Live" on the boob tube, eats off china at the dining room table and has the run of the Muellers' upscale roost, often leaving unholy deposits on the floor.

Flour Mill shoppers may find themselves on the lower level muttering: "What's the deal with this joint?" Not to worry. None of the cannabis-based merchandise at the new Hemp Store and More - from oven mitts to pretzels - will attract a dope-sniffing dog. There's no drug paraphernalia here either. "We've had a few kids come in and ask if they can smoke the shirts, but that would only make you sick," says Cassandra Thommen, proprietor of Spokane's first boutique devoted to the much-maligned wildwood weed.

Jimmie Dean, the WWP lineman who was electrocuted a year ago during the ice storm. Photo courtesy WWP

Think you've got it bad? Meet a man who was robbed at gunpoint in his own home. Twice in one night. K.C. Haight, 41, complains that he's being held up again, this time by the law. The north Spokane resident is spitting nails at a county prosecutor who won't return Haight's stolen cash because he says he needs it for evidence.

Poetry veteran. At Mootsy's Tavern, Vietnam veteran Ozzie Oswald recites some of his war-related poetry Sunday night. Photo by Colin Mulvany/The Spokesman-Review

We'll all sleep easier thanks to our stalwart county commissioners, who have cracked down on the biggest menace facing Eastern Washington since last year's Tickle Me Elmo shortage. I'm talking about the plague of lap dancing that threatens to unbuckle the Bible belt of the Inland Empire. Most good citizens I know were unaware lap dancing was such a pressing problem.

He took three bullets. He escaped a mountain prison farm. He survived a harrowing boat ride to freedom. Now this Vietnam War hero is attempting to overcome some truly formidable odds. He's trying to make a buck in Spokane's forgotten, schedule-crazed Intermodal Center. Peter Le, 53, opened his spotless, tastefully decorated Kochi Teriyaki grill last week on the second floor of the city's revamped train and bus station at First and Bernard.

Back for a return engagement behind bars, former celebrity felon-on-the-lam Fred "Strollin''' Nolan has written to ask me for a loan.

Back for a return engagement behind bars, former celebrity felon-on-the-lam Fred "Strollin"' Nolan has written to ask me for a loan. That's just a sample of the spaced-out mail I've received lately, including letters from a goodhumored proctologist, a troubled Mars explorer and a man going postal over our sluggish U.S. Postal Service. It's time for another edition of Reeeaaader's Windbaaag - the irregular forum that gives my fans a chance to air views only slightly more accurate than a Spokesman-Review poll.

Fish farmer Dan Gannon operates a private, hassle-free fishing pond where anyone can fish, so long as they pay for what they catch at $2.50 per pound. Photo by Doug Clark/The Spokesman-Review

Around here crime doesn't get much more cold-blooded. Fiends slithered into George Ellefsen's Peaceful Valley home the other day and snatched three of his babies. You won't see these faces on any milk carton. Thank God for tiny favors.

No beefy crowd-control goons were needed to keep fans from mobbing this music star. No one waited in line to see him play. A pitiful 125 tickets were sold for Sunday's Met appearance of Greg Cahill - one of the best banjo pickers on the planet. Cahill's Chicago-based band, Special Consensus, is nominated for three Grammys. Bringing world-class bluegrass talent to Spokane can make a guy so lonesome he could cry.

Militia-linked terrorists may be plotting to bomb government agencies in several cities, including Spokane, during the coming holiday season. You'll never guess how I became privy to such shocking news. Someone in an out-of-state FBI office dialed a wrong number and sent an 11-page classified report over the fax wires to a Spokane man who peddles movie posters.

Career burglar Fred "Strollin''' Nolan claims he was trying to be a good citizen, not a smart aleck, by mailing a pair of handcuffs back to the police captors he outwitted.

Career burglar Fred "Strollin"' Nolan claims he was trying to be a good citizen, not a smart aleck, by mailing a pair of handcuffs back to the police captors he outwitted. "I didn't mean it in a malicious way," says Nolan, 27, flashing a sheepish grin. "I guess I could have pitched the handcuffs over a bridge, but they (police) were just trying to do their job." Nolan enjoyed 10 days on the lam after pulling a Houdini-like disappearing act from a Spokane Public Safety Building interrogation room. The town erupted in guffaws after the brash felon returned the cuffs he wore via the U.S. Postal Service.

He certainly doesn't have the fastest wheels in town. The nickname "Flash" never will be embroidered on the seat of his running shorts. But like his inspiration - the Energizer bunny - Bill Misner, 57, has one undeniable edge: He keeps going and going and ... When marathoners sprint for the finish line, this flesh-and-blood machine in sneakers begins to warm up. A 50-mile race is more Misner's speed. Or a distance duel against a horse. Misner is so doggedly dedicated to the long haul that the New Balance company lets the north Spokane man test-pilot its latest running shoes. In the past 10 years, Misner has racked up a documented 24,800 miles - enough to use the equator as a track and race around the globe.