We are on the cusp of yet another Independence Day weekend, and even as all good Americans prepare to celebrate our great nation's birthday in the traditional manner—a cool, delicious rye cocktail; a heaping helping of barbecued squab; and a rousing game of "Smack-the-Red-Injun" with the grandchildren—I shuddered in anticipation of seeing what the moral degenerates of The Stranger would do to mock the gravity of the occasion. Now that they have managed to shoehorn limp-wristed anti-American hippies into office at the local, state, and national levels through lies, voter fraud, and boundless inveigling, one reflexively fears the Soviet-style panegyrics The Stranger might thrill at unleashing upon the streets of Seattle to mark the anniversary of the birth of their "fascist government oppressors" and the "death" of the Native American Dream.

I should have known better than to fear their July 4 issue, however, because the editors at this filthy sex manual apparently cannot plan anything a week in advance. To my eternal relief, Independence Day is nowhere to be found in these pages. Instead, we get a bloated feature demonstrating BRENDAN KILEY's continuing love affair with ecdysiasts and other gutter entertainers. Mr. Kiley, who last stained these pages with an overlong tribute to a financially failed masturbatorium, waxes philosophic—in his traditional, bargain-basement-Joseph-Mitchell-with-a-brain-injury way—about a stripper with the unlikely pseudo- nym of "Rainbow Fletcher" and the rectums of imaginary beasts. The story is overlong, self-indulgent, and hyperbolic. Par for the course for Mr. Kiley, then.

Speaking of "par for the course," in the news section, "Stranger Staff" writes yet another stultifying "hit piece" about the proposed Chihuly museum at Seattle Center. This marks the 253rd such piece of harebrained "advocacy" journalism against a potentially wildly profitable, artistic tourist mecca to appear in these pages in six weeks. (Heaven forbid that The Stranger should endorse a successful cultural endeavor in Seattle.) I understand the feeble minds of DOMINIC HOLDEN, JEN GRAVES, and CIENNA MADRID all poured their contents into this particular screed. I can assume that Miss Madrid, whose native language is Spanish, probably turned to Miss Graves for some guidance in matters of English. Unfortunately, Miss Graves appears not to have English as her native language, either. She has not written a comprehensible sentence since 2002, and this piece would be more readable if a simian were forced at gunpoint to choose words from the dictionary at random. Mr. Holden, as everyone knows, is too high on the reefer to type.

Meanwhile, in the music section, LINDY WEST has scribbled a wet-brained paean to a lesbian music festival. Hewing to her familiar (and yet still frightening) formula, it begins with the repetition of a word nine times, as if the piece were some sort of heathen religious ceremony, and then it descends into the usual mélange of words typed out in all capital letters, cusses, and cutesy abbreviations. To call it "stupid" would be an insult to the word "stupid."

The only boon to be found here, then, is the aforementioned lack of observance of Independence Day; I never thought I would praise someone for their lack of patriotism, but America salutes you for forgetting to mock the Fourth of July, Stranger. If only you would ignore everything else with the same fastidiousness.

Follow A. Birch Steen at www.twitter.com/strangerslog.