If you can’t beat the devil, D.C. resident Anoki P. Sultan hoped, at least you can sue to get the Dark One out of your body. Convinced he has had a devil lodged in his soul for 14 years, Sultan filed a civil suit in late September against James Hickey, the Archbishop of Washington. In exchange for his years of suffering, Sultan demanded either $100 million or an exorcism from the church. Sultan, 37, says the devil entered his body circa 1983 while he was watching TV. Makes sense so far. Since then, Sultan says Lucifer has made him drop out of college twice, enter an outpatient program at St. Elizabeths, take up a two-pack-a-day habit, give men blowjobs, speak in tongues, and has kept him out of work. Kevin T. Baine, Hickey’s attorney, calls the case “absolutely goofy.” He adds, “I have no idea who this guy is.” After calling 50 lawyers and receiving no takers, Sultan decided to represent himself. Alas, he never got the chance, since the case was dismissed on Oct. 30. “I’m just [going to] let the spirit keep on tormenting me and wait ’til death comes,” says a resigned Sultan.

For Every Corner, CVS If there is, in fact, a saturation point for chain drugstores—and there’s no indication that such a thing exists—Washington has yet to reach it. The latest institution to fall before the discount toothbrushes of the mighty CVS is the Townhouse Safeway at 21st and L Streets NW. Although the grocery store isn’t as cherished as the MacArthur Theater, the most recent corpse in CVS’s wake, the impending closure has kicked up quite a storm of protest in the usually acquiescent neighborhood. “There’s no place to get groceries,” claims Foggy Bottom resident Brent Budowsky. “For all of us, that is a serious imposition. But for older folks, it’s catastrophic,” he adds. While there are at least four CVS’s in the area, there will be no supermarkets as of next year. And the closure was not for want of shoppers. Unlike the struggling MacArthur Theater, the Safeway was bustling with customers, says Safeway spokesperson Greg Teneyck. And, he adds, the company was willing to pony up a much higher rent to hold onto the location. But Safeway’s bid simply could not match CVS’s big guns. “It was a profitable, successful store,” says Teneyck. “This is not by Safeway’s choice.”

King of Porn 1, Greaseman 0 In his typically risqué “Lovefest Friday” routine last week, famously unflappable WARW-FM rock jock Doug “Greaseman” Tracht finally met his match. The Greaseman was interviewing Ralph Whittington, a Library of Congress archivist who has amassed one of the largest private collections of pornography since the days of Caligula. (See “The Library of Sexual Congress,” 1/24.) Whittington’s on-air show-and-tell included the video Sorority Sex Kittens and an ad for an inflatable rubber dog, among other items of erotic esoterica. But just before the commercial break, Whittington flashed a truly one-of-a-kind item, and it was a knockout. Gasping, “Oh, God—What is this?” the Greaseman was rendered uncharacteristically quipless, his well of crude euphemisms bone dry. So what exactly was the smut that proved offensive enough to slay the mighty Grease? “It was a photo of a woman giving a pig a blowjob,” Whittington gleefully recalls. “It really shocked him. It was so fun to see him turn red—I really got him.”

Barbie Goes to College Last month, two Georgetown University students calling themselves the Georgetown Guild for Conservative Women distributed The Guide: A Little Beige Book for Today’s Miss G to 800 freshmen. Its straight-out-of-the-1950s layout features whimsical articles pooh-poohing the seriousness of eating disorders and rape statistics. The way to a man’s heart, it advises, is not with “aggressive come-ons” but with “delightful charm [and] alluring femininity.” The $4,000 publication was funded by the Independent Women’s Forum (IWF), a national organization of rich Republican women who bash feminists for sport. The Guide marks IWF’s first foray into college propaganda and presumably not the last, since the tome has created quite a frenzy on campus, provoking the university to disclaim any official connection to the book. An overreaction, it would seem, since, as the Guide points out, “The fight for equality is largely a thing of the past—after all, two Supreme Court Justices, the Secretary of State, and the Attorney General all wear heels.”

Reporting by Jason Cherkis, Eddie Dean, and Michael Schaffer

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