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Who: The Shebeen Club, Vancouver's monthly literary gathering
What: Edgar Allan Poe's 170th Wedding Anniversary!
When: 7-9pm Tuesday, May 16th, 2006 (3rd Tuesday ea month)
Where: The Shebeen, behind the Irish Heather, 217 Carrall
Why: To honour the master of horrors, on this, the day of his ultimate horror. Although I'm sure the bride could say the same.
How (much)? $20 before May 12th, $25 thereafter; reservations and media inquiries: lorraine DOT murphy AT gmail DOT com.
Admission includes a Poe-tastic dinner/drink combo specially selected for appropriate thrills, plus door prizes embodying the grandeur of fallen gentility, a Poe-themed presentation, and a horribly good time!
Dress: Anything antique, anything Goth, anything shabby-genteel.
Bonus prize for anyone who turns up with an actual raven, dead or alive. That is to say that one or more of "the raven and the guest" must be alive.
Background: The Shebeen Club, a History in Press Releases
Come with us, our clothes all tatty, we're Vancouver's literati,
Writing many a quaint and curious volume of best-selling(?) lore,
As we celebrate Poe's wedding, you can join us; they're both deading,
As they both croaked long ago, long ago, in days of yore.
"Bride and Groom, long dead," Sean mutters, "long ago, in days of yore;
Missed the party, ever more."
And two ravens, never flitting, still are sitting, still are sitting
On the old Blood Alley railings just beyond the Shebeen's door;
And their eyes have all the seeming of some ghostlings that are dreaming.
And the streetlamp o'er them streaming shows their shadows on the floor;
And the Shebeen Club, under their gaze that steals in from outdoors
Shall be uplifted—evermore!
Meet & Mingle 7-7:30
Listen & Learn 7:30-8
Whispered tales of undying madness and horror, like the mortifying time you confused August Derleth with Lord Dunsany 8-whenever Berenice comes for us.


Tiananmen Square to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the 1919 "May Fourth Movement," which also took place in the square. They pledge to return to classes the next day but intend to keep pressing for reforms.
existed? But, knowing that as you now do, is it any surprise it's written by a raving Xeniac?
There are some few things in this world that remind me of the late Hunter S. Thompson. There are very few things indeed in this world that remind me both of Hunter S. Thompson and Homer's Odyssey. There is only ONE thing in this world that reminds me of Hunter S. Thompson, Homer's Odyssey, and that 300-pound bundle of muscle, fat, tattoos and leather who got on the bus and sat his wide, Harley-ridin' ass down beside my English professor, who happened to be reading The Iliad at the time and expecting the worst from his new seatmate, poked a chubby, dirty finger into my prof's Penguin paperback and chuckled, "Da Iliad! I love dat book! Rumble in Troy! Ah, man, war's all about chicks, eh? Fuckin' chicks, man."