Wednesday February 20top

Pussy Control  

There are many reasons to get a cat spayed or neutered. Some do it to control the population. Some do it so the ghostly spirit of Bob Barker will stop brooding over their bedside with a pair of tiny scissors. But we all know that the real reason for lopping off a kitty’s reproductive organs is the fact that cats are jerks, and given the opportunity they’d overpopulate the earth, leaving the planet covered in hairballs and clawmarks and reeking like ammonia. Every cute and cuddly kitten grows up to be a cat, and cats with reproductive organs will yelp, yowl and urinate until another cat mates with it, creating another litter of kittens who will, in turn, grow up to yelp, yowl and urinate until they, too, mate. Before you know it, the world is covered with more fur than—well, insert your own dirty joke here. Cats must be stopped from world domination, lest we all live in an Andrew Lloyd Webber nightmare. We simply can’t have leotard-clad animals singing about Heaviside lairs and Gumbie Cats—think of the rising suicide rate! But damn, can spaying and neutering be expensive! Luckily for low-income cat owners, a coalition of local vets is participating in the seventh annual Tom & Mom Cat Special, where you can give your cat the ultimate Valentine’s Day gift—a set of stitches where its testes or ovaries used to be—for a mere $10. The celebration of neuterization begins Feb. 14 and ends on St. Paddy’s Day (March 17), which means you can buy kitty a shot of whiskey after the surgery. Me-ouch! Multiple locations, n/a., For locations, call 292-6628, ext. 2, or visit spayoregon.org. All ages. $10. Map

Saturday February 23top

Drive the Lane

For the better part of the past century, the Harlem Globetrotters have taken their comedy-and-basketball circus show on the road, forging an empire, landing their images in history books and ensuring their catchy-as-all-hell theme song (“Sweet Georgia Brown”) is stuck in the heads of every man, woman and child who has ever heard it. And talk about an institution—the Globetrotters are ingrained in American pop culture, boasting film appearances, multiple Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, and honorary team members including Henry Kissinger. Hell, the team even washed up on Gilligan’s Island, a feat that places them among the gods in my book. But between all the showboating, clowning and good-spirited competition, you have to wonder why these guys are so hard to beat. Knock the friggin’ ball off that Globetrotter’s finger when he starts spinning it for extended periods of time. When a Globetrotter tries to pull your pants down, move around him and drive the lane. When the entire team leaves the court to solve the mystery of the haunted amusement park with Scooby and Shaggy, start draining buckets on the empty court. It’s not as though the team is just a bunch of court jesters (pun intended)—they’ve suffered only a few defeats in real competition at the hands of giants such as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and always wipe the floor with the stooge teams they’re pitted against. I’m just saying, if a Globetrotter tried to bounce a basketball off my head, I’d try to catch it. But who cares? It’s a legendary team, and their show—something like pro wrestling without the masked homoeroticism and fakeness—is the kind of act that can be enjoyed by people of all ages and walks of life. It’s theatrical, athletic, funny and exciting in a way that most sports-related shows aspire to—but always fall short of, if only because most sports entertainment isn’t blessed with “Sweet Georgia Brown.” Rose Garden, 1401 N Wheeler Ave., 235-8771. 2 and 7:30 pm. All ages. $18-$130. Map

Strike That Gutterball From the Record

Typically you don’t hear the words “lawyer” and “bowling alley” in the same sentence, unless it’s, “The lawyer is defending a man who was arrested for misusing the ball-polisher in the bowling alley." An exception to the rule is WinterSmash, the Multnomah County Bar Association’s annual bowling fundraiser. The event, held at Century Lanes, uses the magic of strikes, splits, turkey and beer (an item that’s been required since the precedent case of Bowling v. Sobriety) to raise funds for the CourtCare program, which provides free childcare services for kids whose parents are involved in court proceedings. The event also includes contests. Shoe rental is included in admission. It’s a good cause, and the perfect place to drunkenly try to coax free legal advice from lawyers between frames. 20th Century Lanes, 3550 SE 92nd Ave., (503) 774-8805. 6-9 pm. All ages. $10-$35. Map

Sunday February 24top

And the Oscar Goes To…

With this winter’s writers’ strike, casualties have mounted for movie fans and tube heads alike. We’ve already said goodbye to good TV, substituting great shows like The Office for retreads such as the testosterone-and-spandex of American Gladiators or “reality” and game shows. After the summer, movies are also going to take a hit, as new ideas haven’t only run out in Hollywood—they’ve been placed in a state of suspended animation. Among of the biggest casualties of the strike have been red-carpet awards shows. The Golden Globes were always a joke, but when Billy Bush, an Access Hollywood Barbie doll, and a gaggle of hammy film critics read the list of Globe winners this year like disaffected, collagen-filled zombies, it was blood-chilling. When the Oscars looked to be in danger of falling into the same fate—would Billy Bush have done a Billy Crystal-esque song-and-dance spoof while staring blankly at a teleprompter?—it appeared that hell could, in fact, freeze over. Every film person has some emotional investment in the Oscars, whether they’re art snobs who watch only to complain about how the latest Kurdish war drama was dissed for Scorcese, gamblers betting on Cate Blanchett’s inevitable win, gossip hounds looking to make fun of Renée Zellweger’s dress, or old ladies who watch so they know what they should rent at Blockbuster. So when the Academy said “Game On,” Jon Stewart sent his tux to the cleaner and film fans breathed a sigh of relief. Especially here in P-town, where the Hollywood Theatre goes all out with the Oscar Night America fundraiser, officially sponsored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The black-tie event includes a stroll up a red carpet, complete with non-invasive paparazzi (but no Joan Rivers banshee squeals), “heavy hors d’oeuvres” (mmm, heavy), raffles and a guess-the-winners contest, and ample social lubrication in the form of wine and cocktails. There’s even a Bette Midler impersonator. But the real draw, of course, is the awards show, which is broadcast onto the Hollywood’s massive screen and on smaller screens throughout the theater. It’s a posh and fancy night, and with a theater packed full of people, the conversations are priceless (There’s really nothing better than getting shushed for talking during a commercial by a man in a beret). Most importantly, though, it’s a perfect place to watch Daniel Day-Lewis drink Johnny Depp’s milkshake (mmm, Depp milkshake), or to participate in the tacky tradition of cheering more loudly for certain dead celebrities during the annual montage of death (I’d bet my soul that Heath Ledger gets a louder ovation than Roy Scheider). It’s also a chance to force your opinions about movies on others. That, my friends, is what the Oscars are really about. The event is preceded by a party at Mark Lindsay’s Rock & Roll Cafe. Hollywood Theatre, 4122 NE Sandy Blvd., 281-4215. 3 pm pre-party, 5 pm main event. All ages. $25 pre-party, $75 main event. Map