Advice from the Potted Pine in Front of Linda's Tavern

Like a lot of Seattleites, I've been feeling the Bern pretty hard for several months, and the rally at Safeco Field last weekend really cemented my belief in what Senator Sanders is all about. Still, I worry about when Trump and his thugs pull out their big guns and really start going after the guy. Do I vote my conscience or hedge my bets?

Truly,

Stalking Horse Whisperer

Oh, speaking of Bern: Before I answer your question, I'd like to begin by assuring you and everyone that I AM NOT A FUCKING ASHTRAY! I'm a TREE! A sad tree, yes, but a tree. That means I'm alive, you know? How would you like it if I just ditched my smoldering Camel Turkish Royal in the gap between your foot and your shoe, you fucking hipster garbage? Now then, sorry, what was the question? Oh, Bernie Sanders? Yeah, let's talk about it after the convention.

I have the weirdest thing where my foot has been falling asleep at random times, like even when I'm walking around or playing ultimate in Cal Anderson. I'm freaked by doctors, but this sounds like it could be Charcot-Marie-Tooth, no?

Nervously,

Needles & Pins

Not to change the subject, but all this talk about feet falling asleep reminds me of a question I've been meaning to ask the community: Do you suppose you could find something else to fall into and knock over when you're stumbling into or out of this tavern of an evening? And you wonder why I look so bust-ass. Maybe you'd think twice if I were a stinging nettle bush or a bed of roses, right? But apparently I need a fucking Lorax to stand in front of me to get a little respect from you overprivileged fake hippie motherfuckers. Now then, your letter: I don't even know what Charcot-Marie-Tooth is, man. Sounds like you should see a doctor. Duh.

Do you have a question for the Saddest Tree in Seattle? Write to sadtree@thestranger.com.