Pictures from Seattle: A Van Full Of Meat

Dear Philadelphia/McJawn readers,

I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve been around or written for McJawn. In case you didn’t know, I moved to Seattle. I miss you all very much. In Seattle no one wants to pregame malt liquor 40s before going to whichever dance joint is giving out free PBR/Sparks(R.I.P). Seems like the coolest dance clubs here are gay clubs, which is ostensibly alright unless you’re a straight boy who’s already awkward enough about “trying to get with teh ladiez”. What’s worse than “trying to get with teh ladiez who went to the gay club in order to avoid awkward bros who are trying to ‘get with teh ladiez’”? I do not know. Furthermore, it is impossible to get malt liquor in the Central District (where I live) and Capitol Hill (where I hang out; where aforementioned gay clubs reside). Though it is possible to buy malt liquor in the adjoining (young professional spawning ground) Madrona, where I used to be employed. Not allowed to sell malt liquor in certain places here (something about “Alcohol Impact Zones” or “Thinly Veiled Attempts to Get Rid of The Homeless/Bum Population”). Nor are they allowed to give away free beer. The beauty that was (is?) Metropolis could never happen here. Last Thursday night I came home from rehearsal—it was Eleven P.M. and I made no attempt to go out. I didn’t want to. I literally felt that there was nothing out there for me. So I went to bed. This would not have happened in Philly. My life has truly changed.

Anyway. The above has nothing to do with the below but you’ll have to bear with me. When I still had a job (oh yeah I’m unemployed at this point so, uh, thus the post, your welcome) I would often stop at an Ethiopian market on the way  to get cigarettes. On such a day I saw men in long white coats. They seemed to be coming out of a white van that had reverse-parked right up to the entrance of the shop. One was carrying a cart, upon which lay gelatinous slabs of pink and yellow cow(?) meat. I walked out to see that the van was filled with meat—jiggling slabs of some meat. The slabs of meat were just sort of chillin’ on the hard plastic floor of the van. The seats had been removed from the back of the van, evidently:

I think this may be in violation of some sort of food code.

So there that is.