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?
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.