In Seattle, the city near the metallic island that NCS calls home, there is a summer tradition called Seafair, which is just about to begin. It’s been going on since the 1950s. It involves things like hydroplane racing on Lake Washington, a Boeing air show, music concerts (no metal, of course), both US and Canadian naval warships on parade, human parades, and copious drinking and eating. But my favorite part of the festival is the air show put on by The Blue Angels.

For those of you living outside the US, The Blue Angels are a squadron of Navy pilots who perform aerial acrobatics using F/A-18 Hornet aircraft flying at the speed of holyfuckwhatwasthat! They perform for 2 days in a row (this weekend), and they have practice runs for two days before the performance (the first of which happened to be today). They’re loud — louder than a drunken fuck in a thin-walled motel. In fact, they’re so distracting that a major interstate highway in their flight path is shut down when they’re practicing and performing. You can imagine how drivers feel about that.

Yes, The Blue Angels are metal, but that’s actually not what this post is about. What this post is about is an Onion-style piece of reporting about The Blue Angels in an internet mag called The Seattle Salmon. It so perfectly captures the tight-sphincter side of Seattle culture, and it’s so goddamned hilarious that I have to put it up, verbatim, right after the jump. It is definitely metal. The title of the piece? “Seattle’s Pussies Prepare To Bitch About The Blue Fucking Angels”.

Seattle’s Pussies Prepare to Bitch about the Blue Fucking Angels

The high performance jets of the US Navy Blue Angels give Seattle’s pussies much to complain about. “Well they’re loud,” said Wallingford pussy Ron Matthews, “and I don’t think we should have a symbol of American imperialism at the center of a summer celebration.” Matthews, a soft-dick pastry chef, succinctly described in one sentence what more long-winded pussies drone on about for God knows how many fucking hours.

Mr. Wigglesworth's birthday in 2010, ruined by the Blue Angels

Seattle is known for a population capable of complaining at length on any subject. Seattle-ites can complain about – for example – salting the roads during snow storms, or not salting those same roads with equal emotional investment. But for the city’s wusses, pussies, dorkburgers and fuckwits, Seafair season is like Christmas, the World Series, and their cat’s birthday rolled into one.

Alan Hatsche, a total pussy who lives in Fremont, was concerned about the well-being of his motherfucking pets. “The jets traumatize my cats. My pets are very sensitive to noise and overt displays of militarism. I don’t see why these noble creatures’ discomfort is worth the cheap amusement derived by some dick waving bonehead.”

I choke up when I hear the Blue Angels . . . Beer me.

William Boyd, a self-described dick waving bonehead from Mount Baker eagerly anticipates the arrival of the Angels. “Fuck yes! I love watching those blue bastards screaming around… crankin’ and bankin’, zoomin’ and shroomin’. Maybe not shroomin’. Are you a cop?” When asked how he felt about Seattle residents who dread the noise and traffic delays, Boyd commented, “Come on, even pussies gotta admit this is the Navy’s year. Was it pussy SEALs that iced Bin Laden? No. Navy SEALs. Case closed.” Boyd added, “Beer me.”

Lydia Parr, a closeted female dickhead from Capitol Hill felt compelled to hide her love of the Blue Angels, “Of course I vote Democrat, but I also love things that are fast, loud and fuck shit up. In this part of town, it’s really best to keep that information private.” Ms. Parr acknowledged the complicated nature of the Blue Angels’ visit. “Nobody likes having I-90 shut down, and the jets certainly are loud. But I can’t help but think those sensitive types would feel a lot better if they knocked the sand out of their vaginas and grew a pair.”