It is that time of year again: time to remind yourself to be nice to those idealistic young people with clipboards who knock on your door seeking financial support for their invariably stupid pet causes. Do not call them "porch spam" and slam the door in their faces because this is hurtful and they know where you live and will vent their pain by keying your car, the car you have already listed for sale on eBay as "cherry", a term apparently not used since Wolfman Jack was broadcasting, resulting in many tedious email inquiries.
But it is also time for Seafair, the time when a half dozen Navy fighter jets basically do donuts in front of my house for my amusement. (Fun Fact: All the taxes I paid--I mean, Beth paid--in 2003 cover the cost of the fuel for all three Seattle shows, or .107% of the cost of a Blue Angels plane [F/A-18 Hornet].) And it's totally worth it because this year, they're giving rides:
You are cordially invited to witness the Seafair air show from our rooftop deck anytime after 9 o'clock Sunday. (Come earlier for ride signup.) The Blue Angels fly at noon. Arrive early for best parking. We'll have plenty of distractions for the kids. The menu will be the same as the last few years: stuff you feel like bringing (not required), plus ribs from Jones BBQ. Sadly, Jones BBQ has become very popular--and expensive--since it has been discovered by white people. (Damn you white people! Must you ruin everything?) Therefore, we will be purchasing a single rib that can be repeatedly dipped in Jones sauce and passed around for licking. We hope you understand. (Bill has been out of work for years. It has gotten so bad, he is down to six cars, all GM.)
Beer will be provided, as usual, by Josh Dalton, head brewmaster of the Seattle Rock Bottom brewpub, in exchange for this promotional message.
And now it is time to answer some of your questions.
Q: I have never come to your stupid Seafair party and I never will because I think Seafair is retarded. And I'm not super crazy about you. And yet, each year, without fail, you invite me. Why?
A: Because one year, you just might show up. And because spamming is fun. Also, having lots of names in the mail header makes it look like I have many friends.
Q: Last year, you sent out A Brief History of Seafair, which was hilarious, I'm told (I'm too busy to read your endless prattlings), but what I'd really like to see is some sort of timeline of activities leading up to the big event. Could you provide that? Preferably in fewer than a million words, Tolstoy?
A: Absolutely.
Seafair Week Countdown
Race Day-5 Tuesday. Seattle paramedics make their Seafair preparations: review alcohol poisoning procedures, add custom head-pads on cots to accommodate mullets, stock up on special sunburn gel that doesn't react with tattoo ink.
Race Day-4 Wednesday. Hydroplanes arrive at various Puget Sound retail shopping locations, driving consumers into a spending frenzy at the sight of these weird boats tipped up sideways on their trailers, like giant garishly-colored trophy fish mounted on DOT-approved display cases.
Race Day-3 Thursday. The Navy Fleet arrives in Elliott Bay. Members of the public are invited to tour the ships and then explain their interest in US military vessels to the Dept. of Homeland Security. Blue Angels arrive; area crybabies commence annual complaining. Mt. Baker lawns and shrubberies attempt to pull up their roots and migrate after seeing a total of 3 Honey Buckets placed in Genesee park.
Race Day-2 Friday. First boats arrive at log boom; Lake Washington water becomes upwards of  4% alcohol. Local idiots decide between "tits" or "boobs" to complete their "Show us your" signs. Pat O'Day defrosted, briefed on what year it is.
Race Day-1 Saturday. Hydroplane drivers and pit crews complain to local media about Miss Budweiser's dominance being bad for the sport, then borrow engine parts from Miss Budweiser team. Local media restrain their giggles upon hearing unlimited hydroplane racing described as a "sport".
Race Day-0 Sunday. The Chevrolet Cup Unlimited Hydroplane Race at Seafair is delayed until enough boats can be made to function. To the crowd's delight, confused entrants from the Milk Carton Derby are cleared from the race course by the Blue Angels on orders from the Dept. of Homeland Security.

Traffic-Free Directions to Our House

  • From I-5 either direction, take the Columbian Way exit (just South of the old Rainier brewery)
  • Get in right lane and go south on 15th Ave S. for a half mile.
  • Veer left in front of McPherson's Produce. (If you fail to veer, you will find yourself heading south on 15th Ave until you see Boeing Field.)
  • You should now be heading east on Columbian Way, which soon changes its name to Alaska St., presumably for show business reasons.
  • Turn Right on Rainier Ave S. (heading south)
  • Go about a mile, then Left on Orcas (heading east). If a moron in a gray a Honda with a gigantic wing spoiler takes your yellow light while you're trying to turn, flip him the bird again; it's the only way he'll learn.
  • Go about a mile, then Left on Wilson (heading north)
  • Go about a half mile, then Right on S. Alaska St. (Noah's Grocery on corner)
  • Go 1 block. We're in the house on the SE corner (5103 S. Alaska St.) Parking will be scarce, so head south 1 block to the park, around which there should be plenty of parking
    "Your Directions Still Suck" Help-Line: 206 721 2418
    An RSVP would be nice, but it isn't really necessary because we're just getting the one rib. Also, I just copyrighted the term "porch spam", so forget about getting rich on novelty Welcome mats that have a circle 'n' slash over those words; that's my gold mine, baby.
    I'm Bill Muse, and I approved this message.