Amidst the standard bong-aided blatherings that routinely fill this publication—for a prime example, see CIENNA MADRID's "reporting" on the area's Eastside residents daring to escape power outages by—gasp!—paying for hotel rooms in downtown Seattle (a story that serves little purpose beyond an opportunity for Ms. Madrid to mock those with enough business acumen to give up suckling at the government's teat and actually earn money)—there is one piece in this week's edition that stands out: ELI SANDERS's tastefully titled "Seattle's Jewish Problem." Seeing how Mr. Sanders is, like myself, a Jew, I felt I at least owed him the koved of giving his piece a proper read. This, as it turns out, was a colossal mistake.
For one thing, Mr. Sanders—whose gaseous, thumb-sucking epics are a decidedly acquired taste (though The Stranger has employed, and continues to employ, an entire stable of borderline illiterates seemingly chosen to make Mr. Sanders look good)—fails to really pinpoint a "problem" worthy of such a yellowy title. (Unless, of course, the "problem" he is referring to is his own inability to express a thought, no matter how minor, in less than 13,000 words. Note to Mr. Sanders: HaShem, a much better writer, created the earth in fewer days than it took me to read your meanderings.) What remains is part memoir, part history of Jews in Washington State, and part nasal punditry. Yawn. Perhaps he set out to write a noteworthy piece on an oft-ignored segment of Seattle's population. Unfortunately, given his own limits as a writer—along with Dan Savage's feeble blue pen, which manages to mangle even the best of journalists—the resulting piece is little more than piffle. We Jews have suffered enough; must The Stranger further the abuse by squandering the one instance it deems us noteworthy?