We have all spent an afternoon at or in Green Lake. If you
haven’t, you must because a summer afternoon spent in the natural ambiance of
Green lake will be well worth the price of making my initial assertion true. We
know the trendy neighborhood which surrounds our beloved Emerald City’s Emerald
Oasis. As an act of omaĝe or attention deficit bloom, we named
that hipster neighborhood... “Green Lake”, as well. Let’s keep it simple for the
Climate Change Deniers, and guys like me who felt compelled to wear my SCUBA
gear from Woodlands Park Zoo until I safely crossed NW 85th Street in fear of getting the benz. Let’s keep that last part confidential, between you and I, and the thirteen hundred or
so other people that will read this and carry my, er… our secret to the grave. Speaking...er whispering of secrets, very quietly whispering of secrets...
Let's keep this one under wraps, too. I was so fucking close, another six feet and I would have made it. And it's my roommate's truck whom I told, "Wow! That's fucked up man. Who the fuck would do some dumb shit like that to a dude like you who usually pays his part of the rent within a reasonable time frame pretty much usually? Fucked up shit, it must have been stolen some time during the night, whilst* we slept."
* For those of you not incubated on this planet or within the last three centuries, the word "whilst" only makes an appearance in literature which can only be categorized as "Pure fucking fairy tales". Nowhere, else is it used in the modern English language, nor should it.
Anyways, we’ve all been totally ripped off ordering a coffee
and vegan Danish or maybe it was a sandwich thingy because we were in coffeeshop
poet turf way over our heads but thought we could fit in. They saw you and your
single color, non-architectural haircut coming since the Northgate Mall MasterCuts.
The coffee was really good. However, the vegan, whole something, ancient grain,
fair trade, ozone replenishing (their claim, not mine) stuff on a gluten free ciabatta was not, in my
estimation, a fair trade. Nevertheless, we still love Green Lake like a shining
beacon on a hill… strike that. Like a brilliant guiding light drawing the highest
concentration of acceptably tattered Che Guevara tee-shirts in the nation per
capita. Shocking, isn’t it? It Rekindles the heady days of the 1980 Winter Olympics’ “Miracle on Ice” USA Hockey team. Green Lake trounces West Seattle in both the Che tee-shirt
quantity and the exquisite dog-eared patina categories.
Viva Lago Verde! Shame on you, West Seattle. Where have you’re “So Left,
we’re gone” values gone? Is that redundant?
Who cares? We’ll cross that West Seattle bridge if and/or
when we need to, which isn’t now. We love Green Lake, because it’s cool and we’re
cool. At least, I am and you’re… working on it. Coolness always attracts
coolness, and Green Lake is no exception. It’s a textbook...nah, make that a Google Maps example!
To the South of Green Lake stands Freemont like a fucking gangster
keeping all that other Seattle weird shit outta’ our Seattle. Good looking out,
G!
To the West is Ballard, which has a long history of sticking
it to “the man”. Right on, Ballard! Ballard was an independent city until
Seattle surrounded Ballard, then cut its water lines and forced Ballard to bow
to “the man”. Boo, Seattle! Fremont’s gonna’ be running all up in your house
soon.
To the North, straight up, is Crown Hill! How fucking cool
is that shit? Green Lake wears a crown!
Ya’ know what? Fuck the neighbors. We love Green Lake
because it is everything that makes it Green Lake, and not the shit that makes stuck
up Mercer Island, or practically quarantined Magnolia, and most of all Green
Lake is definitely not, I think I’m gonna’ puke, Shoreline.
Granted, in Green Lake Bourgeois Capitalists still exploit
the poor, dumb proletarian who, through no fault of their own, mistakenly mis-order
a forty-dollar coffee and thingy, making wage slaves of us all for their decadent,
imperialist conquests. The rest of Green Lake is spot on, though. Look…
Check this shit out. From this angle, Green Lake represents
its street cred because…
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Need I say more?
Shut up! You’re not the boss of me…
I call it, “synergy” because almost no one ever
knows what that word means, even when it applies, which it does. So, I’m
calling it what it is, which is “synergy.” Big whoop!
Che would have taken a big Shoreline sized poop had he known
his image would be co-opted by some hipster wearing Hollister trust-fund baby
because daddy bought a hundred shares of MSFT in 1986.
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Mercifully, Che lost his head in 1967, the year of
my birth (Yup, it’s official,” synergy”), so El
Comandante wouldn’t take a big, smelly Magnolia over Vietnam sacrificing
a million Worker’s to spend their lives in Marxist-Leninist government sweatshops
making Levi’s for the West. Hey, a buck’s a buck, and that’s a day’s wage for
Ho Chi Min’s kids today.
Yeah, Communism is depressing because it’s like when
you find out that the presents under the Christmas Tree didn’t come from
Santa’s magical sweatshop elves, they were just made by non-magical sweatshop
Southeast Asians. Same stature, but way different accent… depressing.
Ah, well, pop a grip of Paxil and we’ll go to Green
Lake.
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Green Lake is multifaceted and unpredictable, see?
This is Green Lake without the lip. However, it has the rest of the human
features intact.
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The testicle dropping thing about Green Lake is
that it hides the visage of a real Working-Class hero…
One even Che would proudly sport upon his chest.
Si? I mean, See?
Viva Dilbert!
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Now, to seal the proverbial deal for the Grande
Macho Cajones, you’re getting a pony, kind of cool that Green Lake exudes…
Here they are exuding beautifully. Makes you just want to support that type
of lactationaly exuding firm, ripe coolness. You gotta’ reach out and gently
gather it all in your hand and squeeze.
Communism is depressing. This shit is not. Fuck Communism. On, first thought, just keep your Communism and I'll be entertaining them and the other thirteen hundred or so other people who read this... concurrently.
Like I said, I love Green Lake. In conclusion, Personally I don’t give a
phuoc if you do or not. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass and rice bowl lunch menu meal at the Fila factory in Vũng Tàu.
I fucking love Green lake.
Well, Love ya’, love your show, but I gotta’ go… to
Green Lake.
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