Dear Ballard neighbors,
Please retire your meat smokers. As the Pacific Northwest gets smacked in the face by global warming, it’s relentlessly cruel and unusual to steal the joy of fresh air from your neighbors. The sick, saccharine smell of your hobby not only ruins the fun of flinging open a window with reckless abandon, but is an assault on those of us who dare to use an AC window unit. Bold as a thief, your syrupy smoke slips in through the cracks, smothering the nostrils like a pork pillow to the face.
Nauseous with misery, I’ve browsed Reddit threads searching for like-minded people to make me feel less insane. I’ve seen how you meat-smoking menaces justify your shameless olfactory violence. “I bet these bitter whiners just wish they could have some of my famous ribs.” Don’t be delusional, nothing you’re smoking smells remotely edible to your neighbors. We have little interest in your mediocre ego flex (yes, we know that you’re dying to be known as a master of the craft). What we hunger for is a precious resource, often found at the cusp of dawn, when the people who are most likely to ruin simple things are fast asleep.
The rain-soaked, tree-scented air is one of Seattle’s little luxuries that ought to be revered and tended to—I beg of you, with a punishing fire season creeping around the corner, put down the charcoal and let us breathe in clean, clear air while we have it.
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