Seattle Space Needle Reflection at Night

Welcome to Seattle. Now Go Home.

Shattered Window on Pike St.

Mixed feelings.

On one hand, I don’t like to see people’s property vandalized.  I’m an empathetic human-being and I don’t enjoy seeing harm, or even disappointment, inflicted upon other people.  It makes me as sad as the next person, probably even more so.

On the other hand, especially in recent years, guests to Seattle have increasingly been made up of selfish assholes.  People who, with little regard for the natives, ignore any and all traffic laws, drive dangerously, and lay on their horns at 6am.

These are also the people who park in every, single, solitary crosswalk in town, and since the police refuse to ticket them, these crimes serve as our only retribution for their pathological me-me-meishness.  Worse still is the thanks we get for providing the town to them.  Oddly, they conduct themselves selfishly while filling up news website comment sections with one “I hate Seattle” screed after another.

Alright then, if you hate it so much, stay out.

I mean, imagine if I went out to the suburbs and began advocating for more sidewalks, bike lanes, cyclist rights, and so on.  The natives would be livid.  They’d tell me to go home to the city where that stuff is expected, and so I do.  The thing is, as is the case with most humans, they don’t take their own advice.  While telling us to mind our own business, they nonetheless think that we should bend to their every whim.

Why?

Because they’re them, duh!

And so, the next time our city proposes 3% for bike lanes, the drivers who don’t live here will groooan and bitch and moan and explain why we should subvert our own interests to theirs, even though it is they who are the guests.  It is with that in mind that I can’t help but smile, just a little, when I see the remnants of smash and grabs, and I’ve been seeing a lot of them lately. It’s a way of sending a message without anyone getting hurt, and it is my hope that the victims will go home and tell all of their friends and acquaintances how terrible and dangerous it is to drive in Seattle, and in turn, they will decide not to do so.

Smash and grabs also serve to give the mommies and daddies of gentrifiers pause when they come to town to scout apartments for their most special-of-the-special offspring:

“Oh no, this doesn’t look safe at all! Look at all of this glass laying around!  No, no, Brooklynne, I’m afraid you’re coming back home to the Faberge Egg where we can keep a close eye on you. That goes for you too Crenshaw and Southbronx, I know you two just graduated from college, but this is just too real, I’m sorry. We gave you authentic-sounding names so you won’t have to live it, now let’s go.  I said let’s go! Now!”

So, yeah, as much as I hate to say it, these crimes, somewhat paradoxically, serve the citizens of inner-Seattle rather well.

Such is life in the big-ish city.

Gentrifiers, is it really worth the trouble?

Certainly not.

Tell everybody what you saw here today.

 

 

 

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