Seattle Space Needle Reflection at Night


With the exception of Las Vegas, I don’t know that I’ve spent a sunnier year anywhere, than in Seattle 2013. I include California in that comparison.

This year, summer started in February, and it doesn’t look like there’s an end in sight.

Does this mean that people won’t complain the next rainy day we have? That they won’t go on and on about what a dreary spring it was, and how it’s never sunny in Seattle?

Not on your life, folks. Not on your life.

For more information about this phenomenon, ask your local library for a copy

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I Hate You


“Gimme, gimme, me, me, it’s mine all mine!”

If the State of Washington had a moto, that’s what it would be.

I don’t think that any sane person would disagree that Seattleites set an unparalleled standard for self-centricity. A standard of self-centricity which is shocking. I don’t mean that lightly. The self-centered nature of the typical Seattleite shocks the conscious. I, on many occasions, stand and marvel, mouth agape, stunned by the complete and utter self-absorption that I see on a daily basis. In my mind, that the average person on the streets of Seattle feels that they are

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A Woman’s Prerogative

Women are indecisive creatures. Fickle beasts, unable to make up their minds. Emotional, untrustworthy people, unwilling and unable to take responsibility for anything.

These were (some of) the stereotypes prior to 1970. Thank goodness the feminist movement has dispelled such notions by showing everyone the errors of their ways. Or … barring that, has at least frightened and intimidated everyone into at least pretending that those stereotypes are the result of some evil sexist plot.

A couple of weeks ago, a woman named Danielle Campoamor wrote an op-ed in the Seattle Times complaining about the timid-ness of Seattle men. In

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Almost Heaven

Have you ever been riding along in a car, having a conversation with someone, when out of nowhere … your ears pop?

Suddenly, you can hear. You can hear in ways you’ve never heard before. You can hear leaves rustling and birds chirping. You can hear a fly in the back seat, smacking its head against the rear window, desperately trying to get out. You can hear your friend’s voice, and you can hear it in a detail that, until now, did not exist.

It’s as if, out of nowhere, some unseen entity peered through the clouds, saw your

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Overheard on Pike Street

Almost There!

I felt kind of bad about this one, until I remembered that they chose the middle of the fucking sidewalk to do whatever it was that they were doing.

Overheard in Westlake Park

Black Guy and a Cop

I’ll admit that I didn’t hear clearly, and am paraphrasing a little, but the gist is accurate.

Now THAT’s a Bad Motherfucker

Just sayin.

God of the Hillpeople

People of Capitol Hill

It’s getting too expensive to look poor. Upper-middle-class America’s fetishizing of working class culture has resulted in steep price increases for “vintage” (read “used”) stuff. I’ve actually seen thrift store clothing in Seattle sell for more than it would cost new.

It’s not just a Northwest thing, though.

This past weekend, I was browsing through the Sweetwater site, seeing if they had any good deals on instruments, when I encountered the following:

No, your eyes do not deceive you.

Yes, that is a brand new Telecaster selling for $5,200 because they pre-beat the shit out of it at

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This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Victor Steinbrueck Park

Victor Steinbrueck Park

Gee, folks, nice job taking a shit on the Victor Steinbrueck Park sign.

Don’t tell me, let me guess, “the city doesn’t spend enough on parks because” eh … just fuck you.

The Epiphany


We are only six months into it, but 2013 has already been a significant year for yours truly. It’s a landmark year.

It will always be recognized as the year that, at least for the most part, I stopped giving a damn. Giving a damn about you, that is. The year that I finally succumbed. Whether it was due to apathy, futility, or just plain exhaustion … it’s hard to say … but more than a couple of people have noticed a dramatic change in my demeanor this year.

Once upon a time, when I read about foreclosures, police

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