As I was leaving the gym on a rainy, windy Saturday afternoon, I came across tens of black-clad, bandanna-wearing anarchists marching down Pike Street to register their dissatisfaction with SPD over the shooting of John T. Williams.

Making their usual constructive contribution to the conversation, their protest consisted of screaming "Fuck the police!" at their police escorts. (Apparently, they went on to vandalize a cop car. Uh, way to stick it to the man?)



Once the rain had died down, I headed out to Golden Gardens, where a friend was hosting an annual post-Christmas bonfire. Because everybody likes fire:



Later on in the weekend, I slogged over to Twice Sold Tales ("Thanks for shopping here," the owner told me balefully, glancing at my bag from Half Price Books, where I'd just bought a pile of history books) and picked up a pile of Val McDermid mysteries. The basis of the terrific (and sadly short-lived) British TV series "Wire in the Blood," McDermid's Britain-based paperbacks are sordid, graphic, often stomach-turning---and absolutely impossible to put down.