We’re halfway through summer, the season of beach walks, baby animals, and Strawberry Festival. So what are we mad at? You guessed it! We’re mad at people who walk on the beach, people who do (or don’t) have animals, and of course Strawberry Festival.
I like it better when we complain that there’s not enough funnel cake and corndogs at the festival. Now I have to engage in political discourse, when all I want to do is imagine eating a food called an elephant ear.
One commenter says,“They have every right to be here just like every other booth does.”
Another says, “The intolerance of mooks.” I had to look up the word mook. It means a stupid person, and I wonder if needing to look it up makes me a mook.
Another person says, “This post makes me sick. They among others is why you can make a post like this…”
Okay, I understand that people are annoyed at the poster, but the military does not protect your freedom of speech. At all. They are engaged in combat in foreign countries for geopolitical reasons completely unrelated to civic freedoms in the US. Even if the US had never invaded Iraq, you could still talk smack on social media.
Another person says, “Could we also not have political floats, unless it’s cool if we add a for trump one.”
To which someone responded, “I thought that’s what the cow was.”
How dare you besmirch the name of the beautiful cow! She’s a staple of Strawberry Festival, each year wearing a garland of blue flowers.
I’m honestly fine with the recruiters being there. They were next to the plane noise booth, and I imagine the soldiers constantly getting dirty looks from their neighbors anytime someone mentions the Blue Angels.
Also, who are they going to recruit on Vashon? We’re all over 50. We can’t join up because then who would take care of our dogs and chickens? My hope is the people manning the booth had a chill weekend and got to eat a lot of fried foods.
And if ICE had a booth? We would absolutely have to burn it down.
We then have someone who complains that other people are complaining wrong.
The first commenter says, “We live in a society. Leash your dogs.”
Do we live in a society where we must all take responsibility for our animals, or do we live in the Wild West where we must each bear the burden of existence alone, fighting against a cold, lonesome, uncaring world with only our horse and our gun as company? I will accept this second vision if and only if we all agree to wear leather chaps.
But back to the post itself. ‘Carry a stick with you at all times’ is a weird Rooseveltian suggestion. It sounds like a pain in the ass. Am I going to bring my stick with me into Thriftway? Or should I leave it outside on the picnic table when I go shopping. What if I leave my stick outside and someone takes it? Should I label my stick? But then the poster who hates having things labeled would call me a baby. I feel like I can’t win.
Another islander says, “When people tell YOU to leash YOUR dog, it’s to keep YOUR DOG safe. Maybe in Gen X people didn’t like their dogs as much? Might be generational here, I’d rather mine be alive.”
This may be beside the point, but I hate generational talk. Like, oh, we’re all from the same generation, therefore we all think and act the same. It’s absurd. Siblings who grow up in the same house turn out totally different. How can we expect people born five years apart and 3000 miles apart to share a set of personality traits and ethics around dog leashing?
And another thing that bugs me is that these generations keep getting closer. Gen Z and Gen Alpha are each, like, 3 years long. I feel like we’ve reinvented the Chinese Zodiac, which I’m not a fan of because I was born in the year of the monkey. If I’d been born in the year of the Dragon, I’d feel differently about it. Though I do like that my generation is called Millennial because it sounds cool, like the Millennium Falcon, which is famously a very well made and sturdy ship.
Another thing we don’t stand for in these here parts is that fancy urban spray paint sullying our scenic uncomfortable metal benches.
I don’t think it looks too bad. I don’t know who VaHG is, or if it’s an acronym of something. Vashon always Has Geoducks?
Some people want to form a vigilante group to stop graffiti. One person makes this comment:
I’m sure TagNark will be as effective as the ferry line cutter pitchforks group.
Others don’t find the graffiti that bad. Anonymous member 516 says, “At least is isn’t ‘Stalk.’”
True, Stalk is five letters, which is 25% more offensive than a tag that is only 4 letters long.
I actually like Stalk. This is mainly because they’re involved in a battle for the soul of the utility box near Ellisport. Stalk painted their name on the box, so someone painted a duck over it, so Stalk tagged the duck. It’s my favorite piece of public art on Vashon.
What is that duck saying? Bra BB? All I want in life is for graffiti artists to write legibly and in words that make sense. For example, below are my two favorite examples of graffiti, both of which have poignant messages about the state of humanity.
We might not like people spraying paint around town, but at least it’s better than when they spray urine around town. We have this post:
If you want to understand the horrors humans are capable of inflicting on each other and the environment, then you must clean the bathroom in a fast food restaurant.
Anonymous member 198 asks, “How do you know it men and not little boys? You must be a liberal feminist!“
The author says, “because I’ve literally walked in freshly after a man used it. Because he was the first one to use it.“
The commenter refuses to believe it. He comes up with ludicrous scenarios. Maybe someone else peed, and then it evaporated, and then the man went in and used the bathroom very cleanly, and then the old pee condensed out of the air into a puddle on the ground. Did you think of that? Huh? He ends with this: “For someone who complains maybe you need a science class.”
I also love how this commentator got super mad after the first 9 words, and didn’t bother finishing the sentence, where the poster clearly calls out ladies.
People aren’t just disgusting biological beings who are bad at excreting waste in the proper receptacles. They are also social beings who form nebulous cabals that infiltrate rural areas with their nefarious plans to jack up rent.
A techie who grew up homeless says, “Maybe your anger shouldn’t be directed at ‘techies and hipsters’- but a system that pits us against one another. We’re not your enemy, you brave anonymous twat.”
I love that they say we should come together, then immediately call the poster a twat. It’s all about living your convictions.
The poster responds, “Thanks for your life story? Congratulations? Anyway, when/if you go to sell your house I hope it goes well for you. Hopefully prices don’t negatively impact you because of a crashed market.”
The commenter responds, “Bless your heart. You’re welcome.I’m not too terribly concerned about the resell value of my home. But how kind of you to care.” This commenter previously mentioned they grew up in the South, so when they say “bless your heart” they are wielding it like a knife. It is brutal. It is devastating.
One person asks, “Wait, is this even considered rural Washington? And like, by whom?“
Does rural mean lots of farms? Does it mean a low population density? Does it mean at least a certain distance from a city? My definition of rural is: no cell phone service. So there are a few spots on Vashon that are rural, like that one bend on 240th near Monument.
Or maybe what makes a place truly rural is the interactions between people and wildlife. We have this post:
Full disclosure- I do this. I am trying to befriend the birds. Here’s a picture of a seagull eating a Fuego flavored Taki I threw to him. So if your car gets flaming red poop on it, my deepest apologies.
One person says, “I have seen a lady dump a whole pizza multiple times onto the ground to feed the crows and sea gulls by the bus stop at Point defiance 
whatever floats your boat 
”
Free pizza at Point Defiance? Catch me fighting off the birds to get a slice.
One person asks the poster, “Why are they weird?” Another says, “Small attempts to share something shouldn’t be labeled weird.”
I agree. There’s nothing weird about sharing the abundance of nature with our feathered friends. I fill my bird feeder with a combination of Cool Ranch Doritos and Flavor Blasted Goldfish.
Also, the ferry line is a perfect place to dust all the crumbs out of your car because you know they won’t go to waste.
Some islanders share lovely stories about their animal friendships.
One person has this beautiful story: “My Dad, before he passed, used to make them 100 dollar pancakes every morning. They were so tame they sat on his knee and ate out of his fingers.”
Another poster says, “Someday, when things are bad and I am in desperate need of rescue, my squirrel and crow army will remember my kindness and generosity and will come to my aid. Who will be laughing then? Not you.”
Yet another says, “I have 6 squirrels that hang out.” They share this picture, which is not the squirrel’s best angle.
One person gives helpful advice. They say, ”My only complaint is please don’t feed them shelled peanuts! They take them onto people’s roofs and the shells can clog the gutters.” This is a very specific complaint, and I wonder what happened that they gained such niche knowledge.
Another person says, “But the crows at the north end ferry dock eat doritos right out of my hand. I’m living out my Snow White dreams and you can’t stop me.”
Others point out that this is clearly a failing of the poster’s personality. They say things like, “Just say you have no whimsy and magic bro,” and “Ima throw food at you instead.”
Clearly the poster has not spent enough time in Auburn, or they’d be familiar with this handsome devil in Les Gove Park.
People aren’t just mad about people feeding birds in public places. They also don’t like people picking up rocks. We have this post, which is long, but well worth the read.
First off, we all want to know exactly where this beach is so we can cause problems. One person says, “The younger pettier version of myself would have pinned it and posted on Washington Rockhounds page 
”
Wait, there’s a page for people to tip each other off for where the best rocks are? Why am I not part of that group? The only good thing about social media is that it connects you to people with the same obscure obsessions you have, so you can share pictures of weird bugs and cool rocks. It almost makes up for all the addiction, depression, and radicalization that social media fosters.
One person says, “I wonder if that woman will feel as possessive about whale carcasses or dead sea lions rotting away on her beach when THAT inevitability occurs.“ I’m imagining her with a big stick fighting off birds who’ve come to feast.
I always take rocks and sea glass from the beach, and a part of me feels like a thief. I’m happy to know that I’m not the only person who feels this way. One person says, “Wow, so my paranoia of the beach police is real. I always feel like I am being watched every time I pick up a rock .”
Hey, you guys wanna see my collection of cool rocks , some of which that I think might be agates?
Finally, here’s my favorite sea glass, which I found at Jenson point. It’s a piece of ephemera that sums up the zeitgeist:
Author: Anna Shomsky
I'm a former teacher and a data engineer living on Vashon Island. My writing has appeared in Five on the Fifth, Women on Writing and on the Post-Culture Podcast. I wrote and produced the radio show Whispers of Vashon for 101.9 KVSH. I’ve had short stories published in the anthologies Island Stories and Chicken Scratchings, as well as through the Open Space Literary Project.
