by Adrian Ryan
May 4, 2015

Seattle City Hall

Meanwhile, at Seattle City Hall…

Do you know what the hell else I miss around here? (I mean BESIDES cruising and glory holes?) Blind items! I used to write blind items all the time when I was Seattle’s Premier Jewish Narcoleptic Gossip Columnist ™, but lately they’re hardly any use at all. Everything is so depressingly above-board. Quel traqique!

Remember blind items?

A blind item is when you gossip about something but you redact or substitute all the proper nouns and obfuscate key facts expressly in order to prevent, well, all sorts of nasty trouble, that’s what! (Libel suits! Nose-punches! Serious side-eye! MORE!) Useful indeed.

Let me give you an example.

So let’s just say (TOTALLY HYPOTHETICALLY, you guys) that there was a MAJOR Seattle city official whom we shall for our (HYPOTHETICAL!) purposes call, “Uncle Drunkula”.

Now, furthering our gossipy flight of fancy, let’s say that just last weekend (Friday to be exact!) Unkle Drunkula went to, oh, an Olive Garden in Redmond. Nah, not even Jean Godden would eat at an Olive Garden in Redmond, so let’s say it was A GAY BAR. Yeah! Perfect!

Last Friday Uncle Drunkula went to a gay bar!

In fact, let’s pretend that he and/or she went to what is probably the best gay bar on all of Capitol Hill! See, that’s properly good and confusing, right? Good. (Or is it?)

So now! Let’s pretend that, being a Mr. and/or Mrs. Big Cheese in Seattle, Uncle Drunkula was of course accompanied by a big tough body-guard. Naturally! People are crazy! Let’s also say that, logically, the body-guard was as also a Seattle Police officer. EEEK! Scary, I know! (Don’t mess with those thugs, srsly.)

And this is when we come to the fun part! Let’s say that the following is an actual report from an eyewitness who also just happens to be the doorman at said gay bar.

According to our eyewitness, Mr. and/or Mrs. Big Cheese approached the door of said gay bar, body-guard in tow, and tried to hand his and/or her ID to the doorman, as good manners dictate.

But that’s when all the fuss started. Allegedly.

The, “PUMPED UP COP” bodyguard stepped in front of Big Cheese to rudely karate his hand down and said something like, “Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing? This is [Big Cheese]!” Can you imagine?

But wait! Let’s pretend it gets worse! Let’s hear it from the lips of our doorman:

“So then the pumped up cop flashed a badge at me and tried to push past me. I said, ‘Okay, okay, can you just act like a normal person?’” Tense!

Well of course, the “pumped up” Seattle cop wasn’t having any of that, because none ever would. (Srsly. Keep out of these people’s faces) A certain fuss ensued, and Uncle Drunkula finally chimed in with my personal favorite old classic move, the “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? “

Do you want me to call the press and make this a media event!?” bellows Uncle Drunkula, to which the doorman replies (quite saucily), “I voted for you, why are you being such an asshole?”

Then, according to the alleged report, Uncle Drunkula threatens, “I can cause you a lot of problems!” as he slips past our doorman and into the bar to inflict even stranger scandalous shenanigans on the unwitting ‘mos inside and track the manager down for some serious complaining. Allegedly.

There! See how that works? That’s a blind item! Isn’t that fun?

To conclude our little experiment, let’s give it a nice kicker. Let’s say that, as a final quote, our possibly non-existent doorman says, “I hate that fucking [Uncle Drunkula] and it’s obvious that [he and/or she…it maybe!] is a FAN of crazy cops.” Indeed!

God I miss blind items.

So anyhooters, Mark Finley. That crazy old cow! She’s left scars on Seattle’s heart bigger than a barn dance and darkened our big gay door since Methuselah was just a gleam in Adam’s eye. And it’s time we gave her what’s she’s got coming to her! KABAM! POW! Right in the kisser!

And you definitely want to see it happen. It’s the official Roast of Mark (“Mom”) Finley, this Thursday, May 7, at Fred Wildlife Refuge.

Lady Bunny herself is flying in from NYC to host the thing, and boy are her arms gonna be tired. But I’m just coming from here, and I’m bringing my most vicious and true (and viciously true) arsenal of Mom bombs ever created—and I’m sure Sylvia O’Stayformore and Honey Bucket (and more!) will have a foul mouthful of words for the old bitch as well.

Thrilling! Karmic! Cathartic!

And so! I need you to click HERE immediately and buy your damn tickets, because the shit’s going down, and if you miss it, you’ll die riddled with regret.

Fact.

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