Knock, knock, you dumbshits. I'm fuckin' tired of this goddammned Stranger worship is this ass-backwards podunk hamlet. The Stranger is a free weekly in a small, third-tier city, whose star attraction is some fussy schmuck who's known nationally as someone who disperses debatable sex advice, and locally as someone who tips like shit. But from the way people around here regard its pages, you'd think it was the fuckin' Washington Post. I'm tired of it, man. I'm tired of my friends getting down on themselves for not getting into your rag with their music and art. I'm fine with gold standards, but I'll be damned if I stand for the stinking pile of conceit that's passing for one is this tiny burg. Fuck your high-minded pseudo-intellectual contrarian political BS; fuck your defending of those art-stealing jack-offs; fuck your mafia-like art reviews that reward your friends; fuck your scenester-making music culture; fuck your awful food reviews; fuck that pretentious dick that reviews the show posters; fuck your weird, transparent potshots at the Weekly, and fuck your Pike/Pine mafia, gold-brickin', hipster sucking, Capitol Hill-centric, effete, conformist BS attitude that mostly reminds me of the Popular Crowd in high school, only with more Clash T-shirts and pink triangles. I'm getting off this ass-lickin' train, and I urge the rest of your readers to join me, if you have the balls to print this, which of course you won't.

--Anonymous