If you were to approach me on the street* and ask me to define the word "idiocy," I would be hard-pressed to come up with a better definition than DOMINIC HOLDEN prattling on for 6,000 words about why the waterfront tunnel is a bad idea. Mr. Holden does not understand any of the following subjects: city finance, state finance, heavy construction, deep-bore tunneling, or basic human hygiene. (In the sake of fairness, here is a list of topics that Mr. Holden does understand: sodomy, the cultivation and consumption of marijuana, and—most impressive of all—how to convincingly feign literacy for going on four years now.)

Still more outrageous than the idea of Mr. Holden pretending to have ever taken an engineering or accounting course in the kindergarten that he dropped out of is the idea that this article came from Mr. Holden at all. Clearly, this is a rewritten press release from the office of Mayor Not-Mallahan, the latest salvo in his crusade to lie to the public while simultaneously destroying downtown entirely. That Mr. Holden would eagerly be such a marketing tool for the mayor's office is disheartening but not in any way surprising.

And the hypocrisy knows no bounds: Of course, The Stranger is in favor of the tunnel that is currently being dug beneath under its precious Capitol Hill by pneumatic drilling machine, simply because it promises more public transportation. As a band of scribblers and "unpaid interns" (a clever way to label your slave labor—and they say that A. Birch Steen is a skinflint; at least I pay my caretakers and factory employees minimum wage!) who can never even hope to own a car, of course they are giddy about that particular hole in the earth. It will allow them to ride in relative comfort to the University of Washington, where they buy all their drugs and Communist propaganda. According to The Stranger, though, responsible adults who have real jobs and automobiles of their own—excuse my French—can go hang.

Speaking of Communist propaganda, the books section this week claims to suggest summer reading for its readers. Of course, CHARLES MUDEDE writes an adoring love letter to Karl Marx's Capital, as though that is a book that any right-thinking American would read, and morbidly obese he/she PAUL CONSTANT pretends to have read two books that near one thousand pages each. Elsewhere, BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT predictably maligns a sophisticated new restaurant (personal note to Miss Clement: In order to review a class act, one has to be classy—you should stick to the burger huts and chow-mein shacks) and DAN SAVAGE predictably slavers over naked bodies. I, predictably, fell asleep some 22 times while struggling through this monotonous excuse for "journalism."

* I would like to clarify that this is a figure of speech. Unless your name rhymes with "Benry Missinger," do not ever approach me on the street. I have guards who have been advised to treat anyone who dares to break my 12-foot security bubble as though they were a hobo. Which is to say, they will eliminate you with extreme prejudice.

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