Bringing Home the Freshest Kill

Posts in the dorks category

I continue to hate my fellow Portland cyclists.

One of the more militant ones rode by me tonight (are there any that aren’t militant?) and screamed:


I mean, where to begin. As if I didn’t realize this was the case. It’s like “Hey jerky, anything else I should pick up when I’m at the bike shop? Maybe a stupid, canary-yellow adventure spandex suit like yours?

God these people suck. It’s not funny, it’s not “quirky Portlandia stuff.” It’s fucking annoying.

BTW, I’ve seen this particular asshole yell about bike lights before, as though he’s the Official Hall Monitor of Portland Cycling. If you see him, feel free to tell him he’s an ignoble cunt monster. He usually rides with a cycling buddy in the area of SE Harrison and SE Lincoln.

Gym Shorts

Artwork by the great Ricky Sprague


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Calistoga Owl


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What city is more smug than ours?

If you said Seattle as recently as 3-to-4 years ago, you’d still be right.

But these days, Portland is King of the Hill as far as smugness goes. Granted, I’ve never been to, say, Brooklyn — and I’m sure it’s smug there too — but it can’t possibly be as bad as it is here. In New York, you still have a solid bedrock of tough, hard-working people who have lived through disappointment, frustration and pain and emerged with greater strength of character.

Not so here!

We are beset by condescending, privileged twerps.

Just look at the following photo, for Chrissakes, snapped secretly by a friend at the airport the other day. It’s two garden-variety Portlanders. For all I know, they might be wonderful people. Salt of the fucking earth.

[image missing]

But nearly EVERYONE in town looks just like them. Ironic clothing…ironic eye-ware…the same old tiresome song.

To be clear, I have no problem with anyone’s personal aesthetics. I frequently see Portlanders dressed up as pirates, and though I don’t think of them in positive terms, I spend no mental currency on their place in this world. Honestly, smug Portlanders — I couldn’t care less if your wardrobe personifies indie-rock cliche. When it’s all said and done, you’re just another jerk I’ll go out of my way to ignore.

Here’s the rub though: these wiry, unfruitful clods don’t simply ignore others. NO! They sneer and scoff at anyone who doesn’t fit their DIY Cool Person Template.

It has steadily gotten worse in the 10 years I’ve lived here. It’s one effed-up milieu of shit.

More than ever, the city is teeming with unoriginal, emaciated oafs who wear tight brown pants and sing loudly to themselves at the bus stop.

Such individuals.

I try hard to avoid the cliche of misanthropy. Misanthropy is an easy emotion. But the oppressiveness of the cool Portland alpha culture has reached an intolerable apex. I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked up from reading my book on the bus and some skateboarder fuckwad was glaring (or smirking) at me because my dress shirt and slacks didn’t ooze awesome-fucking-street-cred.

These days, the forecast consistently calls for a torrent of fist-showers…on the faces of Portland “creatives!”

O! I wish to pummel these creatures.

If there was but one day a year when I could rain blows upon their smug faces w/o fear of legal reproach!


What happy times those would be, friend!

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