Despite the unthinkable inauguration of a socialist Muslim as president of the United States of America (a travesty that The Stranger finally gives serious consideration to on page 9), 2009 is shaping up to be a wonderful year. I recently joined forces with a cabal of forward-thinking real-estate investors who have purchased a full 20 percent of Greenland, amazing property that helpfully gets less and less ice-covered all the time. When the global economy recovers, we will begin festooning that adorable little country with shopping malls and condominiums, reaping tremendous financial rewards. On top of that, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer is, by all accounts, about to fail, which means that my man at the Seattle Times, Frank Blethen, is about to make tremendous inroads in his battle against Mayor Nickels's nanny state and the insidious Washington death tax.
Of course, The Stranger, which has made merciless sport out of mocking the P-I for over a decade, fails to remain consistent (which, to help out the many of you on staff who don't know what "consistent" means, would involve offering approbation of your erstwhile foe's demise). Instead, ELI SANDERS pens a mawkish mash note to the radical leftist publication. To Mr. Sanders, I say: This caterwauling and shirt-rending won't help keep your precious P-I from collapsing, unless you can suddenly somehow cry miraculous tears of ink. But I think I understand the unspoken reasons behind your sadness: Wave good-bye to your exit strategy from this dying tabloid, Mr. Sanders! And say hello to eternity in your disgusting little Stranger cubbyhole.
Elsewhere in the news section, JONAH SPANGENTHAL-LEE scribbles an alarmist screed about a sex offender terrorizing the quiet streets of Lake Forest Park. I suspect that the only sex offender actually unleashed on Lake Forest Park in the last few weeks was Mr. Spangenthal-Lee himself, if he actually left the diesel-powered bong mounted on his desk to pursue this story. Which I doubt.
In various other sections of the fish wrapper, KELLY O, BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT, and DAN SAVAGE all remark on a pub crawl that was created to spite some sort of imaginary bogeyman. The results are, in order, incomprehensible, pretentious, and way too gay. Only The Stranger would try to elevate drunkenness and sodomy to the level of heroism.
In the section of the paper devoted to features, LINDY WEST, CHARLES MUDEDE, and BRENDAN KILEY all crow about Seattle filmmakers who are about to take films to the liberal-agenda propaganda mill that is the Sundance Film Festival in Utah. The results here are, in order, incomprehensible, incomprehensible, and latently gay. Two of the three filmmakers worshipped in this story have been acclaimed by the cretins behind this weekly train wreck as "geniuses," which instantly casts the quality of their films in doubt. That one of the films is a fictional story centered around the pornography competition that this very paper produces makes these stories even more questionable—but, somehow, more explainable. Incestuousness, like pederasty, is a hard habit to cure. 
