IN SAD NEWS, rock singer Ian Fisher of the Cowboys died in Thailand. Back in the early 1980s, local rock bands that sought commercial success played covers of big hits in big bars. Bands that insisted on writing their own material were stuck with far fewer, smaller venues, and catered to the "alternative" few. The Cowboys created their own image and their own music (albeit heavily influenced by the likes of the Knack and the reggae-era Clash). They aspired to, and got into, the big clubs. They didn't tour much, and never got a national record deal. But Fisher got to live the rock star image, and did so for nearly a decade.

IN OTHER SAD NEWS, Larry Nelson, KOMO Radio's morning host for 30 years, has stage four lung cancer. You can send him your well-wishes at larrybnelson.com, a Web site created by Nelson's longtime colleague Stan Orchard.

END OF THE RIDE: The Seattle Center Fun Forest's operators never recovered from losing a big chunk of their space to the Experience Music Project. They're way behind on their rent to the City. Everybody in city and county officialdom wants the arcades and rides outta there. They'd like to replace 'em with something more befitting of New Seattle world-class-osity, such as a big lawn peppered with public art, or a miniature "real" forest. Will nobody step forward in defense of this bastion of pre-Space Mountain carnivality?

ADVENTURES IN OVERPROTECTIVENESS: A new DVD release of the first few Sesame Street episodes from 1969 includes this disclaimer: "These early Sesame Street episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today's preschool child."

I was already a preteen when the show debuted, so don't blame the Street for how I turned out. But I certainly remember the show's original, pre-Elmo incarnation.

I remember identifying with Oscar (whose lucid if negative zeitgeist was treated with patronizing laughs by the human stars) and Bert (whose intelligence and earnestness only made him an easy target for Ernie's "friendly" harassments).

I remember a creeping sense of regimentation behind all the committee-written, consultant-contrived, lesson-planned "fun."

And, of course, my quickly dirtifying pubescent mind could think of new and innovative ways to play "Which of These Things Belong Together?"

In recent years, I've rediscovered the now un-PC Muppet song "I Want a Monster to Be My Friend." Heck, a lot of Sesame Street moments took on a whole new understanding the day I learned the Canadian slang meaning of the word "cookie."

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THIS TOWN STILL NEEDS many things. Not among them are cutesy-poo new neighborhood names. Unless we do it properly.

Herewith, some suggested new monikers for some micro-sections of our too-fair city: NorthSouth: The strip malls, office buildings, and Park n' Ride lot south of Northgate Mall. Squares to Curves: The strip of Fairview Avenue between the Seattle Times and Hooters. Yo! Town: The stretch of upper First Avenue populated at night by clubgoing frat boys spouting outdated "street" talk.

Forge Town: The blocks of the Industrial District and east Georgetown occupied by metal sculptors who only exhibit their work at Burning Man. Scent-ury Square: The blocks on Fourth and Fifth avenues where the air's corrupted by the clashing, overbearing aromas of designer perfumes.

Bored Walk: The sidewalks between LInda's and the new Cha Cha on Capitol Hill, where the young and prematurely jaded trudge along and moan about how everything sucks. Bel-Red West: The new condo towers stuffed with Microsofties. Soul Meets Body: The stretch of southern Broadway dividing Seattle U from the Swedish Hospital complex.

Brownsville: The stretch of Mercer Street near the Pacific Northwest Ballet school, patrolled by girls with hair dyed the exact same shade of tan.

Ditch-Me Land: The bar strip in west Fremont filled at night by newly jilted singles trawling for a little rebound sex.

Sanctimonia: The south Wallingford enclaves of the organic, the progressive, the macrobiotic, the clog wearers, and the bicycle-repair collectives.

420 to 520: The northern U District and Ravenna homes formerly occupied by gaggles of stoner housemates, now occupied by reverse commuters from the Eastside.

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DRIBBLES: With the Sonics' continued slide of ineptitude, some observers are wondering whether management's deliberately trying to lose, a la the movie Major League, to help smooth the road for a move out of town.

Of course, such a strategy would require Clay Bennett and co. to have some degree of intelligence and competence, neither of which they've evinced thus far.

Besides, a move is no sure thing, despite the fatalistic mumblings of some local fair-weather fans. There will be legal wrangling.

There will be local potential buyers.

And there are people who see the sport's changing economics.

The influx of cable TV rights money has peaked or will soon, as viewership declines and fractures. As the upward centralization of wealth in America continues, there will be only so many zillionaires to buy luxury boxes.

What's left to pay superstar salaries? Shoe endorsements? Team-logo mouse pads?

Pro b-ball needs to again be a sport of fan loyalty, of community outreach. The NBA needs to become more like the WNBA. For that, it must give up on the short-term fixes of subsidized arenas and threats to move.

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E-BOOKIES: Amazon.com's first in-house hardware product, the Kindle e-book reader, has led pundits and bloggers to place virtual bets on its viability. Danny Westneat's rave review with reservations in the Times, and my pal Paul Andrews's more scathing piece at HorsesAss.org, both refer to the tired meme of "The Book."

Andrews reiterates that chestnut I've been hearing my entire adult life, that nobody reads anymore (particularly those vidiot kids); thus, The Book, and all capacity for rational intelligence, has become the refuge of a small literate elite.

Both Andrews and Westneat claim there's something sacred about The Book, something that can never be equalled by any electronic device; and even if it could, hardcore "people of the book" (especially the older male ones) are proud Luddites, who'd rather be in some imagined pre-20th-century pastoral Eden.

Andrews cites a National Endowment for the Arts study claiming "reading for pleasure" has dropped since the mid-'90s. Actually, all "legacy media" have dropped in popularity-broadcast TV/radio, newspapers, magazines, theatrical movies. The culprits: DVDs, video/computer games, them danged Interwebs, and more active leisure pursuits such as gyms.

And if book buyers were such technophobes, Amazon wouldn't have made its first market niche from them.

Folks "read for pleasure" on screens all the time these days. The trick has been to devise an environment that encourages long-form reading.

That's what all the developers of specialized e-book reader machines have strived for this past decade. From what I've read about Kindle, they're still not there. But that doesn't mean it'll never happen.

NEXT TIME, it's the annual MISC In/Out list. Send YOUR suggestions about what will become hot/not-so-hot in oh-eight to editor@belltownmessenger.com.