All illustrations by Jessica Randklev.

All illustrations by Jessica Randklev.

Dear Winslow: You talk tough about our “agreement,” about the social contract that has allowed our two cities to co-exist together in peace. But, here you go again stomping on our turf. What’s this I hear about a brothel on Bainbridge Island? Come on! Callow’s supposed to have the market corned on the turning of tricks, and we stay out of the wine and cheese business. (Oops, I guess the Kitsap Wine Festival should be on Bainbridge. I’ll give you that. Gladly.)

You’ve had a brothel on the island? And your men are paying to have sex with our women? Oooooooh, Winslow, don’t tell me Bremerton’s not rubbing off on you. We’re rubbing off, and you’re obviously rubbing one out.

I’ll close this letter with a few words from one of your own.

“We’re an upscale community and I think we have a sort of upscale self-image,” Iver McDougal, president of the South Bainbridge Neighborhood Association.

Upscale self-image? That’s putting it lightly, friend.

The Bremelogger

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All illustrations by Jessica Randklev

All illustrations by Jessica Randklev

Dear The Bremelogger:

Why, you little scamp! What I pay for, with whom I engage in sexual activity, and what I pay for with cash is none of your concern. Besides, nothing’s ever free, is it, Logger?

Need I remind you that those women of the night were from BREMERTON!?!? This is exactly the kind of element we’re trying to keep off the Island. And you and your cronies think it’s a good idea to build a bridge or somehow make it easier to access our place. Well, I don’t even want to think about what would happen if you got your wish. Corruption like we’ve never seen.

But, the most, or should I say only, enlightening element to your most recent parchment is originators of the article you forced upon me. Kitsap Sun? Have those Reds at the Bremeton Sun finally tried to re-invent themselves under a new moniker? I actually know the answer to this question. I asked around, and called a few expats who actually pick up the rag, and learned that it’s been several years since its name was changed. I wouldn’t know. I take The Seattle Times at home. Why would I want to know what’s going on in the rest of the county? I get enough from these diatribes you pass off as conversation.

Until next time, and hopefully that is none too soon.

Winslow

bremelog1Dear Old Man Winslow:

Where have you been, my good friend?  It is so good to hear from you. Still squatting in an unsold condo, are we? Bah, ha. I guess that joke was only funny when our community wasn’t suffering from the same sickness.

And how were your holidays? Did you get all your Christmas shopping done on “The Island” again? I’m sure your grandchildren were just as disappointed as they were last Christmas.

As it happens, our friends at Washington State Ferries have heard our (or, most likely your) outcry against decreased service to our waters and we won’t need to stage any resistance. Yet. Which is too bad, because I was looking forward to a trip on the Tacoma, a scoop at Mora’s, and an afternoon living the “Winslow Way.” I tell you Winslow, I am looking forward to the day when we have our own Town & Country market downtown. But, I digress.

Before I let you go, I wanna talk about Pabst Blue Ribbon, which you seem to have co-opted for yourself. First of all, I drink Pabst because it’s hard to get anything better in this town. You’ve got that pub overlooking the liveaboards. We’ve got The Manette, and its ever-dwindling selection of handles.

But, as you’ve undoubtedly heard, 2009 is shaping up to be the year of the microwbrew in this town. And I’ll happily hand Pabst, Ranier, and Oly back to you, my stubby friend.

Yours in clearcutting,

The Bremelogger

P.S. Winslow, do you still pay for sex?