A good number of them seem to be hanging out in and around Denny Park, Mr. and Mrs. Seattle, in the shadow of the Space Needle. Chipped up or gooned out, frying their brains with chemicals or electronics, trying to escape from what we laughingly call reality. Somebody once told me Denny Park was refurbished a few years back to be a kind of friendly family park, somewhere to take the kiddies of an afternoon or a lover of an evening. Doesn’t look like it worked worth a damn.