engaging in anonymous french pressing
Who'd a thunk a business model centered around middle school innuendo, cereal, bacon, the phallus, and feeding drunkards after midnight could be become a Portland institution.
Much (too much?) talk has been paid to the signature bacon maple bar, while overlooking what is (IMHO) Voodoo's true gloire: The Apple Fritter. It's gigantic, it's decedant, it's um - apple-y?
The counter staff seem to hate life. And I really can't blame them, given the epic level of asshatery that they deal with. So just getchyer doughnut and get the eff out, okay?
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The drunken nonsense that you deal with downtown is rarely of the sauced up street person variety. It's more the douche bags stumbling out of Kells/Dirty/Dantes.
I live downtown and will be damned if I have start crossing a bridge to buy wine.
Kids living on the street drink because they're lives suck. "What's that? I can't buy a can Steel Reserve? Suddenly my mental illness has disappeared. And I have forgotten about all of those times my older brother bad touched me." This is not going to happen.
This is the baby that will continue to be a weak, ineffectual member of society because their parental units coddled the shit out of them. Literally. Unfortunately, it sounds like the writer is one of these people as well. Sometimes, dear Max baby, you have to sit in your own shit. Sometimes, dear Max rider, you have to smell that shit.
Now. If she left the dirty diaper on the seat. . . there would be one more orphan and one more felon for the statisticians to tally.
Also: did you know that Polanski was only arrested because he's Jewish? Apparently you gentiles can rape all of the children you want.
Punch you in the face, Gore Vidal. Were you not a feeble, irrelevant doddering old fool.
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