To the power-hungry corporate manager, specifically one at the Fred Meyer on 82nd and Holgate,
Your loud, condemnatory, and unfounded accusations of animal abuse launched at a customer last week severely frightened her children and was based on no knowledge of your own but that garnered from the tweakers in your parking lot who decided any dog left unattended must be "near death." Instead of making any effort to assess the situation on your own or to even look at the dog yourself, you confronted a mother with two young children with the statement "YOUR DOG IS GOING TO DIE!!!" The family had been in your establishment less than fifteen minutes when you confronted them with your self-righteous, walkie-talkie-clad power trip. When two tweakers tell you there is a dog dying in a car in the parking lot, you should not take their word for it. In fact, the dog was perfectly happy until you confronted him with your negative vibe. You probably feel you should be canonized by all Portland Dog Lovers for your brave rescue when in actuality, you pushed the dog and two children into a state of anxiety and fear by freaking out at them and their people.
Get a life and stay out of ours.
We've been to three weddings this year, brought gifts each time, months have passed, and how many thank you notes have we received? Zero! What gives, didn't your mom teach you how to write a thank you note? It's easy, "We got your gift, we appreciate it, thank you". I know you have our address because you sent us the invitation to your wedding in the mail. Even an email thank you would be acceptable these days, but nothing at all? Three weddings, three strikes you're out, from now on all I bring to a wedding is an appetite for free food and alcohol.
To the chickenshits who yelled "GET A JOB, FUCKIN' LOSERS!" while driving up SW Main Saturday night -
Ohhh, how BRAVE of you! Yelling an insult at OCCUPY demonstrators from the safety of a speeding SUV must be some sort of grand political statement on YOUR part, huh? Hell knows you wouldn't have the maturity to actually GET OUT of your stupid truck and INGAGE one of us in debate, let alone the balls to call someone a "fucking loser" to their face. Really, what grown person even does that? Yelling stupid shit at someone from the safety of a speeding, enclosed, motorized vehicle is LITERALLY the goddamned easiest/douche baggiest thing in the world to do! And as i'm sure you and your "bros" were busy pounding jagerbombs and redbulls at the Dixie Tavern later that night, the sheer IRONY must've escaped you. Alas, you and i both know who the TRUE LOSERS are.
Hey, Willamatte Week!
1) I enjoy your blog's "Occupier of the Day" series (even though it's a rip-off of the Mercury's "What's Your Story?" series, which was abysmal), but why do you have to make the pictures of the occupiers so small? How the hell am I supposed to know which occupiers I want to fuck if I can barely see them?
2) If you're going to rip off the Mercury's "What's Your Story" series (which, it's worth repeating, was truly abysmal), why not also rip off the I, Anonymous Blog so I can rant at the right paper?
Portland, fuck you. No, I mean it. FUCK YOU. Not "Have A Nice Day." Just say it, just be aggressive. Just show your actual contempt instead of "Have A Nice Day." When you say that, I hear "Fuck You." It doesn't make you seem like you have the higher ground, it makes you sound like a pathetic little canvasser who makes people feel uncomfortable.
And while we're on that topic, canvassers, I am not your fucking friend. Don't great me like I'm your friend. You're not being disarmingly friendly, you're behaving like you work at Macy's on commission. Be respectful. Approaching me like I'm your BFF isn't respectful, in fact it's downright rude. Even more so than jumping out in front of me and asking me for money.
So Portland "Go Fuck Yourself." (That means have a nice day you bunch of pretentious shaking with fear little assholes.)
Thanks to the guy in the truck who strategized with me to get across burnside, to the trimet driver who refused my 5$ on my way to the hospital, and to the lady who gave me free baklava for a 5 minute wait. Thanks to the cop that saw me almost run over and did something about it, thanks to the bartender that comp'ed my drink the other night, the coffee shop who said it was on the house, and offered me soup when closing. Thanks to all my friends that helped me move, again, and crash on couches in between times. To the stranger that asked about my day with genuine interest, thanks. Thanks for these few good clear days while they're left. For the midnight babka, calling to check in and up, for all the passionate nights, for having this city be my home again, I thank you.
The Mercury reported in May 2010 the arrest of Bob Caldwell, a top editor of the Oregonian, for DUII.
Shortly after, I drafted an email to the Oregonian’s letters section on oregonlive.com citing recent (in mid-2010) stories by the paper of public personages detailing their DUIIs. I asked why then hadn’t the Oregonian published Caldwell’s? The letter appeared briefly on the oregonlive.com web site, then disappeared.
Oct. 9, 2011, Oregonian Managing Editor Peter Bhatia's column called for publication of PERS retirees’ names and pension amounts. I posted a comment, “In Sunday's Oregonian, Bhatia said, ‘Those of us who work at newspapers have a passion for open records.’ If that's so, why hadn't the Oregonian ever published the arrest and conviction of Bob Caldwell, one of its top editors in May/June 2010 for DUII?”
The comment posted successfully to oregonlive.com but about an hour later it was gone so early Mon., Oct. 10, I posted a similar comment. A short time later it too vanished but I checked my profile and found it there. After a few hours, the comment was also expunged from my profile.
So, here are my questions: how many other Oregonian employees or other public personas are exempt from having reports of their DUIIs published? Does it apply to Joseph Rose, commuting columnist? Steve Duin, columnist? N. Christian Anderson III, publisher? The building janitor? My Oregonian deliveryperson? What other crimes are not reported?
And finally, how can I get an exemption?
OK, this is getting ridiculous. I understand that construction is necessary to maintaining roads. Closing the Morrison Bridge? sure. A little construction on the Broadway Bridge? okay. Closing the Hawthorne Bridge also? This is getting silly.
Still, I could deal with all of this, if not for the fact that the Sellwood Bridge...the most fucked bridge of all...is not being worked on. WTF! We need to close three working bridges for construction, but can't fix the one that actually needs it?
To FDW the gobshite from Hillsboro who deceived me for more than two years: THANK GOD I found out what a SOCIOPATHIC, two-timing piece of trash you are BEFORE our November wedding date. You are evil; I wish I could rent billboards to plaster your deceitful face all over town and warn the entire metro area about what a snake you are. Especially “Tish”, from SW Portland, the woman you called a psychotic ex-girlfriend, the woman who rang me last year, whom it appears you and your pets've lived with off and on for years. What lies did you weave for “Tish” to explain your mysterious three week absence? Let alone your consequent firing in July? Does she know you were fired for gross dereliction of duty and drinking on the job, (and were too busy having sex with me Thursday night through Monday morning for two years to do your job)? Either way, I pray “Tish” or at a friend of hers reads this and outs you for the crazy, philandering f**k you really are.
As a grocery-shopping bicyclist who goes by Safeway on his way home from work: OH THANK GOD SOMEONE SAVED ME FROM THE EVIL SIN OF USING PLASTIC BAGS TO TRANSPORT MY GROCERIES! Now I can revel in the joys of trying to juggle paper bags over my handlebars while they dissolve in the rain, or I can play the wonderful minigame of "let's not run over the reusable bag that's dangling about six inches above the ground" every time I get groceries. What FUN! Or, hey, I can patronize one of our many overpriced bike shops and buy a $200 set of saddlebags to go with my $100 junker bike. That's a great theft deterrent, isn't it?
Thanks a goddamn lot, Sam Adams. Thanks to you too, you anarcho-hippie ecotards who pushed this through. What the fuck were you thinking? It rains for TWO THIRDS of the fucking year here. Last time I checked, plastic was waterproof AND PAPER WASN'T. Now I am inconvenienced so you can feel all full of warm huggy fuzzies every time you go to Whole Foods (or, god forbid, slum it at Safeway) and watch all us unenlightened simpletons struggle to carry six paper bags full of heavy-ass groceries out of the goddamn store. No more shall I effortlessly carry three bags over each wrist and neatly sling them under my handlebars for the ride home. THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME THE WRIST PAIN. Crushed, dropped, dirty, wet groceries are absolutely worth a respite from that fucking agony.
Look, assclowns. I'm a crazy liberal too. My political beliefs are fiscally anarcho-communist and socially far-left libertarian. But you know what? This phenomenally senseless legislation is inconvenient to everyone and helpful to no one except the paper bag industry. And for what? So you can sleep better at night, because your stupid uneducated ass doesn't know that plastic is actually NOT WORSE FOR THE ENVIRONMENT AT ALL? No. Fuck you. Fuck you, and may you fucking choke on the plastic bags I'll be importing in from Beaverton.
Hey Portland. We gotta talk. See, there is this girl. She is simply delicious. Like flavored milk. Goodness gracious. Sorry, I got carried away. You see, I'm sprung like the month of May. Problem is, I don't live in your fine city. I live somewhere to the south. But, I got your rainy days, if you feel me. She loves Portland. Which makes sense. But, for me, it's a problem. You need to calm it down up there with the good coffee and shit. Bookstores and all that. Ease back. I will make it up to you. I will be forever grateful. I'll donate some bikes. Plant a tree. Give up meat. What do you need? Let me know. And if you see her, smile for me. Shit, wait...
For some reason it has become a trend to train a cat to sit on your shoulder. I have seen several of these attention seeking shit fucks around Portland and it makes me want to rub bile all over your god damn faces. Since when do cats like to try and balance on your fucking shoulder all day? They are not accessories. You want everyone to see how much your cat must love you? If anything, you SWINE are making that poor animal miserable.
Cats are supposed to frolic outside and wrestle with other kitties and roll around in catnip. NOT learn to deal with sitting on your shoulder because you want everyone to think your so unique and awesome. I hope your shoulder cat decides to take an enormous steaming shit on you while while you attempt to look cool in a crowd of people. Or better yet piss all over you. Enjoy the feeling of warm cat piss trickling down your back, try getting that smell out asshole.
This is a rant. I am going to say fuck. More than once. I am going to complain about you people out there. You people of fuck. I am going to feel dominant and tough. I am going to say, anonymously, that I almost kicked your ass. Almost. It was really close. So close, I ran to my nearest laptop and typed furiously. Fucking furiously. There is no way I can rant about beauty or love or family or God. That shit is fuck. You people will be almost ass kicked. By me. My sarcasm will win your hearts. Your stupid fuck hearts. Your stupid fuck souls. This is my voice. This is our voice. Fuck you.
Yeah, we're a family restaurant and I love kids. I can deal with their yelling and even their fingerprints all over the glass. What I can't deal with is their toys left on the floor of my restaurant. When I'm dropping orders off at tables, I move pretty fast. I know the lay of the floor, I don't need their shit littering it where I can slip and get hurt. When I make the point to clean up after them, don't just smile at me and sip your sugar free soy latte. Correct them you douchebags! If I didn't have to bite my tongue to get a good tip I'd tell them myself. "Hey, you know why we don't leave toys of the floor in a restaurant? Because when some one slips and smashes their head on a table's corner and ends up in the hospital, that's your fault. You will be responsible for that." That's what you tell a kid who doesn't pick up after themselves.
To the paper tower dispenser in the second floor staff washroom:
What the fucking fuck is your fucking problem? Why must you shred every single paper towel I try to remove from you, giving me one third of a paper towel while the rest stays bunched up in your stupid slot? I CAN'T DRY MY HANDS WITH ONE THIRD OF A PAPER TOWEL, YOU MORON! And then, when I try to extricate the rest of the paper towel, all you do is shred it further, spilling half of it on the floor and the other half in your waste compartment, which is already overflowing with needlessly shredded, bone dry paper towels from when my co-workers used the bathroom before me. AND MY HANDS ARE STILL WET!
I guess you didn't bother to read the all-agency memo. This is supposed to be a GREEN WORKPLACE. We're ALL supposed to do our part to lower the company's environmental footprint. We can't do that when you're so obviously intent on raping the Earth by wasting her precious resources!
Why can't you be a team player? Why can't you be more like the paper towel dispenser in the staff washroom in the basement? That dispenser always gives out perfectly intact paper towels, EVEN WHEN I PULL ONE-HANDED! The fact that that dispenser is stuck in the basement while you get to be on the second floor proves definitively that THERE IS NO GOD.
Paper tower dispenser in the second floor staff washroom, you're worse than Hitler.
The pedestrian bridge (on SE 9th & Powell) that I have no choice but to cross on the daily has been horribly disfigured in the name of shitty public art. Not sure how this "artist" got the ok to have an epic finger painting session on what has the potential to be a great canvas for a breathtaking mural, but it has happened. Now, I am left to shield my eyes from this monstrosity until, hopefully, a gang of badass street artists brings justice to this bridge!
Hey chucklehead leaving your box of old Martha Stewart magazines on your front median with a free sign - NO ONE WANTS IT. Your idea of giving something away is just trashing up the neighborhood. When did it become ok to set out garbage with a free sign and leave it there for weeks. After a few days, that vanity is now waterlogged and again, it is TRASH. Portland, please recycle your goods or put them on Craigslist and coordinate pickup. Stop just putting your shit and crap and broken record players on the sidewalk with a free sign assuming they have value.
Good job on having a second lockout in your tenure as NBA commissioner. Unlike in the 98-99 season, the NBA has grown international meaning that plenty of more interest in the sport leads to more opportunity for players to go overseas and get paid. Do the NBA owners really think they have the upper hand on their players? Not just in Portland, but other small market cities with teams are going to suffer from this too. There are lots of staff that work at the games, there are bars that get more business due to games. The Timber's season is winding down, the Seahawks are too far away to care about, and not everyone is a fan of the Ducks. Now at least I can see more Winterhawks games.
Congratulations, you have run roughshod over peoples' right to assembly, interrupting the most important political movement in this country since the protests of the Iraq war, all so that you can revel in your own vanity.
The rest of us know that exercise is kind of selfish. We don’t fool ourselves into thinking that it sends a positive message, or make us more enlightened, or that it makes the world a better place.
True, marathons are a celebration of human potential. Would that city government, police, and our society recognized that protests too, are celebrations of human potential: Instead of trying to improve the condition of their own bodies, protesters try to improve the human condition.
Both marathons and protests are equally disruptive, but our society has become confused about which group is motivated by a selfish need for attention, and which group is trying to make life better for everyone.
Clearly, you all feel very accomplished. You ran a certain distance in a certain time. Did this do anything to improve the situation for the 100,000 people in the PDX area who are jobless, the 49 million people in this country with no access to health care, the 29% of children in the PDX area who face "food insecurity", and the fact that all of this coincides with an unprecedented (and untaxed) profit boom for this country's most powerful corporations, issues that the Occupy Portland protesters are trying to tackle? No, it didn't. You just got in the way.
Just curious, have any of you actually done the slow, lean in kiss like they show on movies..like you examine each others mouths and make that kinda cockeyed face as you move in for the smooch? Also, the super angry make-out..you are in the middle of a heated argument and all of a sudden start ripping your clothes off..are these things real? Just wonderin'
I know it's been said that we in the retail field pry too much when you're in line. You think we're fake and annoying, do you? Well, let me tell you, I've been in this field for over 15 years and I just want to punch every single one of you in the fat fucking faces. I could give a shit about what you did over the weekend or what you're having for dinner. Every word you say is like nails on a chalkboard, but I have to smile anyway, for I am ordered and paid to do so. All of you make me lose faith in humanity. Just know that the next time you see us smiling and asking about your day, we're all secretly hoping the you burn in hell.
I totally agree with the ideals and opinions of the Occupiers all over our country. But I've been training for almost a year to run the Portland Marathon and I'm completely freaking out that some ignorant jackass is going to cause some kind of obstructionist riot and completely ruin it for me and the other 13,999 runners. Running is how we deal with the stress of living in an oppressive corporate state and marathon day is our Woodstock. Please don’t fuck it up! We’re the 99% too.
Not that Old Town smelled all that great before your new restaurant opened, what with the packs of malodorous train-hoppers, rotting face crackhead grandmas, and innumerable legions of public-defecating homeless. But I am almost certain that I speak for the entire community when I say that we could all do quite well without the addition of billowing stratocumulous clouds of VAPORIZED ROTTEN ANCHOVIE INTESTINES which periodically belch out of your windows. I'm no master of Thai cuisine, but I'm fairly certain Thai fish sauce is not meant to be deluged over a high-temperature grill. Look at that squiggly writing on the bottle - it probably says "Warning - contains putrified fish offal. It is a violation of the UN charter to dump this product on a grill. Just add a few drops to your stir-fry, ok?" If I wanted to smell this all the time, I would just take a shit in a ziplock bag, toss in a dead fish, and leave it in the sun for a few weeks. Come to think of it, I believe I have a big bottle of industrial grade fish sauce that's been marinating in the cabinet under my sink since the late '90's. Look out for a few well-placed fish sauce Molotov cocktails crashing through your nice windows some night real soon.
And not because I'm in love. Look, I'm a reasonably nice person who fears hurting people's feelings. Especially if they have the crazy. Because lord knows I have the crazy.
But do you know what the difference between you and me is? I try and at least get along in society. I try and recognize body language, tone of voice, eyes to know when I'm making people uncomfortable. I'm still a totally maladapted geek, but fuck do I try.
But you have creeped out each and every one of my female friends. Yes, we know if we wear t-shirts with words on the boobs the boobs will get looked at. But there's no need to stare at it for 5 goddamned minutes. Especially when I know you can read. And personal space, Jesus. This is my personal space, this is your personal space.
For the love of fucking god just try and adapt because you're making people feel uncomfortable. And frankly, you're going to end up friendless because no one wants to be around a creeper. When every single one of my female friends say they don't want to be around you, I have to start making choices. And guess what? You're on the chopping block, not them.
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is a veteran’s worst nightmare!
Well first of all, and gay rights activist I sure hope you take this and run with it…
In February of 1778, George Washington who was the Commander of the Revolutionary Army, hired a Prussian Army Officer, name Baron Von Steuben.
Von Steuben’s military career was ruined in his own country because of his flamboyant homosexuality. But, here’s the thing, George Washington didn’t care because he recognized Von Steuben’s strategic genius. Von Steuben brought order and hygiene to Valley Forge, and not only that he instilled discipline by writing the Revolutionary War Drill Manual and training an elite force (which, was roughly a special forces unit) of 100 men. He then taught those men how to train the other men, thus creating basic training and the idea of the drill sergeant to our country, before it was even a country.
So, let me get this straight…
The military, my military, is saying that gay men and women shouldn’t serve (which is unconstitutional). They have the nerve to proliferate this ridiculous idea even though a gay man invented basic training, and the concept of drill sergeants (Von Steuben didn’t speak English so he actually had a translator curse at his trainees for him- so freakin’ hard core, I love it!!), and helped us defeat the British so we could become our own country. We are a dominant global military presence thanks in part to this gay man.
From: an honorable discharged female combat veteran
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