“I mean, it was sort of cool to see the
Onion in print, but drinking fresh Pabst was better”.
Eventually
a mob of hipsters and lonely 40-somethings had gathered around Mayor M. (as he
described himself to the hipsters) house. They began chanting:
“What
do we want? More Pabst! When do we want it?—When the Onion comes!”
We
reached Mayor M.'s for comment he said:
“We’ve
got the Stranger, go find an escort if you’re so bored. Better yet why not
search the ad’s for a loose medical cannabis dispensary: that’ll keep you
occupied—while we pepper spray occupiers.”
The
mob soon dispersed when Seattle drivers almost plowed into the crowd because
they didn’t have their head-lights on at dusk. We reached the initial driver,
with our Senior Mutilated Reporter (given the new title that evening), he had
this to say:
“No
one blinked their lights at me: how was I supposed to know to put my lights on.”
One
Eastside women who was at the scene had this to say (alone in her car with her
husband):
“Hahaha
I told you it was the right thing to do”—she then proceeded to eat brown rice
cakes she got at Trader Joes. The original hipster was present at the scene,
but could not be reached for comment because he was drinking generic corporate
products which definitely do not make him trendy.
Mayor
M. was later reached for comment on the incident, he had this to say:
“I
never should have created the tunnel—hey is this on tape?”
A
pragmatic progressive had this to say after Mayor M.'s comments:
“Well,
I guess he gets my vote, I mean, as long as ‘Goldy’ shuts up”.
Dan
Savage, Senior editor at the Stranger had this to say to the protestors:
“If
Seattle really wants to be like the Midwest then they should learn how to
shovel snow.”
Every
New Yorker had this to say after Dan Savages remarks:
“The
plows are better in New York —”.
Soon
the mob spread in message to mindless bull shit and communist slogans before
deciding it was trendier not to do anything about anything—leaving mindless
hippies to stay there for 8 months before retreating to SCCC. Eventually ironic
Eastside, amateur philosophers, decided to make signs saying: I am the
Stranger. L.A. then made fun of Seattle, re-establishing their smug little bull
shit lives, while then failing to function when two drops of rain fell.
The
bring-the-Onion movement spread to Issaquah, where teenagers decided they were satirists
instead of poor rappers. Eventually everyone went home to overcast skies and
contemplated hanging themselves while simultaneously building more roads so
they can drive their sad lives away. This all happened while life was normal in
the Central District with every poor minority having this to say:
“I
wish all these hipsters would stop fucking with the city, their all just
trust-fund bastards anyways.”
In
other news, the Oatmeal moves to Thailand, thus leaving the city behind—with these
last words:
“Portland,
go drown in the river Styx.”—The Oatmeal referring to the sadder lives of the
other Vancouver.
