Seattle Space Needle Reflection at Night

Blackened Hands

Remember when you could park your car in Seattle and come back to find that some passive-aggressive estroman had NOT left a note on your windshield because you parked 2 millimeters over the white line?

Remember when Seattle bands didn’t have tambourines or violins?

Remember when King 5 news anchor Jean Enersen still had her menses?

Those days are long gone, my friends, but I still remember them fondly. Seattle’s final days before being fully, totally, and completely bastardized.

Today, I descended into the filthy, stinking, mold-infested pit that is my friend’s Ballard basement, stumbled over a damp box, opened it, and what did I find?

The Rocket

The Rocket

Stacks upon stacks of old Stranger and Rocket issues from the late 80’s through the mid-90’s. Cultural porn for an aging grungie.

Now if you will excuse me, it’s time to let 20 year-old lead seep through my skin and kill off the few remaining brain cells I have left.

3 comments to Blackened Hands

  • Chuckreis

    Queensryche needs a smaller font, I can almost read it

  • Scooby

    Nice find!

    1994, flew down to San Diego to see Metallica with Suicidal Tendencies, Fight and Candlebox. Candlebox literally was booed off the stage. How the fuck they were number one that year was a joke. They played to the heartbroken girls that lost their boys to true grunge and to the weak fucks that tried to score those sloppy seconds. They still play some of that shit here in town. But then again, they still play Live’s Lightning Crashes… what the fuck is up with that? If the Dj’s can’t call Rosie O’donnell a fat cunt on air, then they sure as hell should be banned from playing that shit.

  • trentmc

    Those bring back the memories. I thought the best thing that ever happened to me was when I got a job at Cellophane Square in the University District. I had access to some of the greatest vinyl ever recorded.

    My employee bin of albums I wanted to purchase was always full. When I got my paychecks they barely covered the music in my bin so nothing left for rent. I didn’t care. My life was all music.

    Rent money came from donating plasma on The Ave. I lined up at the various food banks so I would not starve. I’ve since made regular donations to those food banks that kept me alive. It was a fantastic time to live in Seattle.

    Scott McCaughey of The Young Fresh Fellows was my Manager at Cellophane Square. Scott was a great guy and it wasn’t like work putting all that vinyl away. Friday nights that place packed with people buying records.

    Here’s a photo of the store and a sad story. You’ll have to cut and paste the link to your browser.

    And Then There Were None…

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