I, Anonymous Blog

The views expressed in these submissions are from anonymous, unverified sources and do not necessarily represent those of the Portland Mercury.

I'm Gonna Be Rich

Minimum wage went up. Right on. Somehow, American, tax paying citizens still get fucked. In order for businesses to pay the increase, I wonder what must they do? You guessed it. I've already seen it. Price increases from 50 cents to a buck. What choices do they have? Cant blame em. I work 2 part time jobs both paying over minimum wage. So one of em is a corporate company. Because im part time, I dont get holiday pay and I dont get a pay increase because im paid over minimum wage. What kind of donkey shit is that? Isnt it supposed to go up incrementally as minimum wage goes up? I signed up for this job because it paid 3 bucks more than minimum wage, at the time. But now, youre telling me, my wage will essentially become minimum at some point, which now I only make 75 cents more than minimum wage. Thats bullshit. What will you do then? How does that equate? COLA? Do you think ill even be around? Reason im part time which is 3 bucks less than full time is so I can have one foot in as well as one foot out. Im not proud to work for a company that doesnt support or value their employees. Nor am I getting roped into the bullshit full time employees have to go through. Just even a simple thank you or Merry Christmas is all it takes. The point is no matter how much city, state, or government tries to portray changes to benefit hard working citizens, it is a smoke and mirrors lie. We are constantly screwed up the ass hard and deep.


Artists Beware

Friends, when Loudmouthed Business Guy "allows" you to adorn his personal property, you're being used. First of all, let's hope you're getting paid. (Between Daddy and Mommy's money and helping destroy this city he's definitely got the dough. Just ask him!)

This leeching douche has no artistic or design ability of his own and so he's using you as his unofficial PR staff. He's trying to point to you and your work as proof that he's A Really Cool Guy, and not just another boring yuppie carpetbagger. He wants people to think he's got some kind of indy boho cred because you let him hang around you.

All he's got is money. You've got what really matters. Don't let him steal it.


I Voted Trump

I've been a reader of the Portland Mercury for a long time. As a 4th generation longshoreman in this town, I've been the proverbial fence-walker aligning myself with a right-oriented blue collar community and embracing a more open-minded and creative friend base. As for Trump, to be honest I hate the guy. I knew he was bad. It's no excuse but my motives were economic. I reflected, "maybe we can ride the storm with this bastard, nothing important to American culture can be sacrificed (boy was I wrong) and maybe our tolerance for his term will be justified by a stronger industrial economy." I was tired of hearing from my friends that the oil patch is running dry of work because of federal regulations. I grew tired of going to the long shore hall and watch guys who've worked the ports in Portland for 30 years get turned away - again - in similar fashion of "On the Waterfront". Reading about American mineral dependency really got me worked up, and when he said he could champion American steel I thought "maybe this is how people can afford to live again." Obviously I was wrong. He's done nothing for the economy and he's only worked to kill the progress great minds have accomplished over decades of fighting. I was recently criticizing a superintendent at a site I go to, and then it dawned on me everything I don't like about him is the traits Trump is showing. As if I were late to common sense it hit me: what the fuck have I done? How could I vote for this guy? I hope you can accept my apology. Every vote counts, and I feel personally responsible in some way for the shit show that is growing out of control right now.


Just a Down Curve

Something about this day, my goals, and the unique obstacles I have to cross has me feeling extra sad and empty today.

Like I'll always be scraping for a place to sleep in between work.

The rest of the world seems so distant. It looks bright and happy where they are.

But when they talk to me or interact with me, it's often very unpleasant.

Sat down in a booth before the show last night. When I got up, someone else took my seat. I was fine with sharing the booth but I could feel his friends were uneasy about me being there. I wasn't supposed to talk to them very much if at all. Those kids tried to jump me or something on my way out.

I hope it's better on your side.


Not the Way to Exit the Freeway

To the guy who attempted to exit 205 NB to 84EB this morning.

Boy, that curb just came outta nowhere didn't it? Maybe you thought you could miss it. My guess is you didn't even know it was there. Until you hit it.

I score it as follows:
air time: 3/10. You caught some air. Could have been better though. Not sure if you hit it with both wheels or just the driver side. You launched a little off kilter andI saw the drivers side wheel was done.

flair: 8/10. The shower of sparks that erupted from underneath your little sedan was the best part of the show! You got an Oooo and ahhhh outta me for that one! Hope it wasn't a cross member or the oil pan which caught the brunt of that one.

This is why we don't attempt to exit the freeway at 70mph from the fast lane!


Safety and Awareness

To the kids who tried to bait me into a fight on my way home.
You were riding your bikes. I was on foot. You asked me for a lighter. When I declined, one of you rode up next to me and hit me with some sort of plank. I barely felt it, but I got the message. I made a point to let you both see me watch you a little closer. You got off your bikes, stood real close and tried to talk me into making a move.
Look, I'm okay if you think I'm a pussy for not fighting. A less patient person could have gotten away with murdering you both in "self defense". Nevermind you both look like 15 year old prep school kids playing gangster. The law is written poorly. You had weapons. I told you several times to leave. I could have hit record, let you step too close, and just let go.
I'm happy no one got hurt. I really do hope you stay safe, but I know you won't. Shit if you're going to be a thug at least get stronger. Or bring more friends and weapons. Don't come unprepared to dangerous games.


I Can't Stand It

Fake long finger nails. Loud people. Someone says "nice to see you." Loud guy says, "good to be seen." Backslapping buddies that follow each other. Someone says, "I can't hear with the music blasting." They say they're so hot with the windows up. Plastic cups. Paper cups. Togo cups. Styrofoam cups. Clueless, consumerist people. The cup will be the death of us all. What is in your shit? Well I know it's the same shit in all our shits. Some nastier than others because of the shit they eat and the health they're in. But goddamn! How in the fucking planet earth does your shit land at the back part of the toilet bowl, then dry up as a chunk and get stuck there? How does your shit traject at that angle? Shit for brains. Use your brains. Countless people on a daily basis I encounter have shit for brains. The same shit they shit at the back of the bowl. No logic, no rationale, no math, no science, no language, no communication, no imagination, no creativity, no common sense. So many stupid idiots walking around and somehow have to function in society. If that's how you eat in public with food on your lips and chin, falling to your chest and lap, then wiped of your chest and lap to land on the ground. I cannot imagine what your private home is like. People are nothing but a distraction and complication. So many people just hanging around. In the middle of the sidewalk. On a bench. On the porch. At a coffee shop. Lost. Smoking. Clueless. Doing nothing. Not for a few minutes. For hours upon hours. Nothing. People think this world was made for them.


IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME

Well, darling, i am finally leaving you. And it's not you...it's me. When we first began, it was mostly alright. Winters were a little dreary, but after breaking up with all your half ass guys, I romanticized the rain. Shit, if i felt really down, I could drive to a waterfall in 20 minutes, and hump a log. And the summers couldn't be beat. It was never 100, and if you got to the river early, you could claim a nice spot for yourself. Cup and Saucer or Sewickly's were breakfast. People did yoga for health, not for show. Not for dates. Tinder was something you brought with you camping, cause you'd never be able to get a fire lit without it. People were never super open, more so friendly, but you didn't need invitations to make yourself at home. Now, it's Nazis, Liberals, Gentrification, and Traffic. You're spent. You care more about dogs than you do about people, and you'll never get a thing done, you fiucking do gooders. So, whilst in line at Salt and Straw, don't look for me, cause I'm gone. I'm over it. And over you.


Conflict Files

I've been reminded that I'm not unique. There are just "so many people." No shit. But thanks for reading.

When I got to St. Helens, I had already been to five other facilities. There was arguing and some very short lived violence, but I had been lucky enough to avoid most of it. Trying to focus on my time. Improving myself if at all possible. My total was at about twelve months on arrival.
I had asked officer if I would be placed with people with similar charges. He told me I would. He lied. Not important to the story, but true.
It was a receiving pod and a lockdown pod at the same time. There's a higher chance one or three out of the twenty guys in here have recently fought a person. Very likely initiated it.
I had only been there for two days before I saw my first fight. The aggressor was heard threatening the less violent of the two, commanding the usual, "cell up. Let's do this". Subject b declined, waited to a little after dinner, and hit subject a with a left hook out of nowhere. The fight last a minute or two. Subject a won. Stomped on subject b's head a little and kicked him. It was right in front of the window to the office. We all just watched.


Sure Is A Hot One

"It's hot out."
Everyone fucking knows. Say something more specific, you fucking turd.
How does the heat make you feel?
You know what? I don't care. It makes me feel hate for you and your vapid and pointless small-talk.
Shut the fuck up and get me a water.


To the #9 Bus Driver at 2:45 pm today

You saw me bustling to the 5th and Davis bus stop. We made eye contact. You were supposed to stop since it's the first stop on your route. You blew past me as I was running to the glass and metal bus shelter with a little blinking monitor saying you were due to stop. You didn't even slow down the bus. You totally blew the stop. Why didn't you bother to do your job? What is wrong with you?

You, sir, are a goddamned monster.


Not Downtown

I'm so glad I do not live in Downtown Portland, i can not stand any of these people here.


Hiaku Number Four

Wearing glasses up
Side-down top of head I don't
Need them to see lies


Neighborhood Block Parties

You and your 7-8 neighbors, some balloons and a few card tables positioned in the middle of the street. That's it, some party! yet you go through the hassle of getting a permit to block off access to your street, and putt up barriers. That's really what it's all about: barriers. "We have a barrier so you cannot drive here, go around." The fuck if you really want anyone else from your block at your lame ass party, that's why the rest of us all hate you and let our dogs shit in your lawn after you run your sprinklers every morning.


You're Welcome

I'll bet your still pissed I chased you away. I'll bet you still think of all kinds of smart mouth, shitty things you want to say to me. What you should do is thank me. Not 10 minutes later Portland PD rolled up. One of the neighbors had called you in. If they had found you fucking in broad daylight in a "public park" (your words), you'd both be registering as sex offenders for the rest of your fucking lives. You're welcome.


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