I've learned Seattle's secret essence--what makes it seem like a huge formless pile of cold, overcooked oatmeal.

This is a city full of bloated, pasty human jellyfish.

This is a city where neurosis is actually treasured. Where people take the time to one-up each other with claims to the latest perversely trendy mental disorders. This city could have single-handedly immaculately conceived passive-aggression, but it wasn't God who fucked us, it was pop psychology.

This is a city where people seem blissfully unaware they aren't alone in overusing nauseating, hybrid New Age phrases like "eclectic soul"; "vibrational essence"; "healing harmony"; "intuitive chakra."

Here's a word: PRETENTIOUS.

Here's another: SPINE.

Is this city so well-cocooned, no one's had their bubble burst?

Relatively speaking, this city is SAFE. (Drop into South Chicago. Complain that your latte isn't foamy enough.) Maybe that's why it's easy to whine about totally insignificant shit, to harbor neuroses like rare orchids... maybe that's why there's no evolutionary need to grow a spine.

I don't think enough people here have been told to get over themselves. Seattle is safe. Safe enough to wallow in. Possibly the worst it's going to do is make you PUKE.

--Anonymous