It must be mid-September, as I once again have on my desk this annual collection of blind-leading-the-blind (off a cliff) buffoonery known as The Stranger's Back to School issue. Having pointed out every fall since the inception of this "guide" that it is hardly a public service to have a bunch of high-school dropouts, elementary-school glue-sniffers, and middle-school truancy record–holders advising Seattle's latest crop of higher-education students, I am now willing to admit, with great sadness, that my previous attempts at reasoning have fallen on deaf (and dumb) ears.
So let me try another argument, this time crafted with equal doses of pragmatic resignation and deep chagrin, in a gutter language that I have slowly been trying to learn through osmosis as I make my weekly rounds—an intellectually stunted tongue that appears to be the lingua franca of this office. Ahem: If u keep duing this [expletive] I will 4 realz call the [expletive] cops you [expletive] stoopid peeces of [expletive]. U want 2 help sum1? Shut your [expletive] moufs.
I sincerely apologize to my readers, and to the entire English language, for that brief foray into primitive gibberish. But if that is what it takes to protect the impressionable youth of this fair city, I am willing to give it a try. Let's hope the invisible hand of the free market slaps this "newspaper" into oblivion long before next fall, obviating any future need for concern.
In other causes for alarm: ELI SANDERS, who I have long suspected was funding his dandy-ish dress through some sort of illegal racket related to that stolen doctor's prescription pad on his desk, tries this week to sell dangerous pharmaceuticals to the entire voting public. Only at The Stranger would the "political writer" suggest that a chemical haze is the best prism through which to view the final months of the presidential election. My prescription: Avert both eyes, and trust that I will be calling the American Medical Association in the morning.
Finally, since Mr. Sanders is so blithely abrogating his duty to inform the electorate at this momentous point in the history of our republic, a few words on heroism. I believe that Sarah Palin, whose company I have enjoyed on several hunting trips in the Alaskan wilderness, put it best when she told the good people at the Republican convention in Minnesota that she had no idea what a "community organizer" does. As the owner of several highly affordable urban apartment buildings that have been under unjustified attack by people claiming such titles, I will say that I unfortunately have some idea of what these people do, and that it is not helpful or presidential. Nor is it comparable in selflessness and patriotism to facing down the scum of Hanoi, as my old golfing partner John McCain (he can't swing, but he does like to ride in the cart) did during the Vietnam War.
The fine print of my contract with Mr. Keck prevents me from endorsing a political candidate outright in this space, but I will say this: There is only one hero in this race, and he would never picket my properties. Act accordingly. 
