Dear Uptight Seattleite,

I’m frankly surprised that you are willing to be associated with a paper that disrespects the art of burlesque in such a sexist fashion (“April Fool’s Day Issue: 22 Things About Seattle That We WISH Were a Joke,” March 31).

Frieda

Dear Frieda,

You are absolutely right. The Weekly doesn’t seem to get that it’s out of line to comment on the bodies of women who publicly display their bodies. Does that tick me off? Sure it does. But let’s you and I try to be a little more patient, Frieda. Some people, perhaps through lack of education on the subject, don’t know that a woman who’s “putting it out there” deserves automatic reverence. And, to be fair, absorbing this knowledge does require keeping two contradictory things in your mind: One, that burlesque dancers are fierce warriors empowering themselves with their boldly transgressive stage personas; two, that they are precious, exotic flowers whose self-esteem is endangered by the toxins emitted by male eyeballs. You have to take in the opposite points of this paradox slowly and gently, doing a little shimmy to get both ends in.

Dear Uptight Seattleite,

I was at the U. Book Store last Saturday, and some guy was tunelessly whistling a little snatch of Supertramp’s “Take the Long Way Home” over and over. I know, it’s not exactly a Haiti-like level of suffering we’re talking about here, but it did cause me to evacuate the freshly stocked bargain-books table.

Black Eyed Pete

Dear Pete,

Have you ever felt a malaise in your soul? This can make you feel like there’s something sticky on your finger and you desperately need to wipe it off. That’s what the guy at the bookstore was doing—trying to wipe his malaise on those around him. Does that make it right? No, but once you understand what’s going on, there’s a remedy. Researchers have discovered that the opposite of “Take the Long Way Home” is “Blowing Down That Old Dusty Road,” and that a warm hum negates a tuneless whistle.

Dear Uptight Seattleite,

As you probably know, when you use an Orca Pass to ride light rail, you’re supposed to swipe it on an unobtrusive little electronic pad that is often nowhere near the platform. Sometimes even if you follow this obscure system correctly, the pad gives you an error message. The other day I had to walk to a pad all the way on the other side of the station.

Your Fellow Commuter

Dear Fellow,

That’s a great story. Here’s another: I once boarded a bus in Greenwood, paying my fare in cash. At some point during this trip, the bus converted to a pay-when-you-leave system, so I had to show a transfer when I got off. A transfer that allowed me to be on the bus I was already on. So that I could get off.

There is, however, a reason why public transportation in Seattle is such a labyrinth. It’s a test of your commitment to a car-free future. The good news for you, Fellow, is you passed! Just as I had the foresight to take a transfer I shouldn’t have needed, you walked all the way over to the other swipey pad, even though you’d already swiped once. Passing the test means you now get the real payoff: a license to relate stories starring yourself as a traveler zipping effortlessly around London, New York, Madrid, and other “real cities” that do public transportation better than we.

I’m really more of a walkin’ man, though. Walking allows me to spend more time with Georgina. We’ve got a pretty streamlined system. I attach her leash to the cinch string of my stretchy bicycle pants, right above the crotch. I know that might look a little funny, but it’s more ergonomic for our spines to be aligned. Also, if I’m struck by a sudden thought, my hands are free for me to use my iPhone to update my Facebook status.

I wouldn’t recommend this for other people—electronic distractions are the plague of our age!—but I’ve come up with special mental exercises that allow me to surf the Web without disturbing the nowness of now. Deb and I actually just wrote a Lint Catcher number on this very theme. It’s called “Na Na Na Now Now,” and is about the internal struggle between the need to be fully present and the tendency to become distracted. The chorus goes:

Me:

Na na na na now now, is what I say

Now now na na na na, say I

Deb:

Na-uh, I say, no way, no how

No cow brown how now now

Me:

Oh yes, indeed, my now now’s now

There are more variations, but perhaps you get the idea.

Questions? Write uptight@seattleweekly.com.