Wow. I’m really sure not how to react to this article “Seattle’s Ragin’ Asians” in the latest Seatle Weekly: a pseudo-ethnographic expose on the Asian American club scene in the 206.
Right off the bat, there are a few things I take objection to which seem typical stereotypical fare you’d expect from the POV of a white(?) reporter. Namely, repeatedly drawing attention to Asians’ carbon-copy mob mentality: we only travel in packs (making white people uncomfortable and unwelcome), dress identically (in the latest slutty, mall store fashion), are vapid and socially retarded, and all rook arike (like pre-pubescent tweens).
Also, it is with a mix of excitement and shame that I intimately know every restaurant, menu item, neighborhood, club, street, and free cover/parking trick mentioned in this piece. Yes, I too have idled until attendants left their shift to swoop down in my parents’ 1990 4-door Camry, and even put an old ticket on the windshield for extra precaution.
And I too have an irrational love for the sweet, steaming baked spaghetti at Purple Dot. But motherfuckers, last time I checked, the food at Purple Dot is NOT GREASY (Gawd, how many times is this beeyotch gonna write “greasy” in association with Chinese food?)! Jade Garden and Honey Court are hella quality, son.
This kinda was/could be my future life in Seattle. Except with less titty exposure, nonexistent game, and way more Gaysian fag hagottry (c’mon R Place and Manray are chock full o’ Asian chicks…and just across the street from War Room, ya’ll).
And it’s also little embarrassing that…Oh, fuck it…206 BITCHES!!!