Jesus shitting christ, they're still at it.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey asked, "Whose Desk Drawer Would You Like to Snoop Inside?", then revealed what was in Alison Hallett's desk. Like the Mercury, its contents were underwhelming and inane.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff got his American Apparel panties in a bunch over the fact that Portland's respectable, tax-paying, non-druggie citizens do not, as a rule, like retarded teenagers or the retarded things they do.

• Tony Perez proved, yet again, that the experience of reading a thread in which Blogtown's commenters attempt to be funny is akin to witnessing a clumsy circlejerk at a low-rent comedy club's open-mic night.

• Ned Lannamann somehow wasted over 1,500 words on an interview with the director of Menomena's latest boring video. Meanwhile, Lannamann continues to refuse to write even a single sentence about my ambitious, insightful, and unspeakably erotic series of VHS cassettes, "Night-Vision Footage of Steph Stricklen's House (1996-2008)."

• Remember that nauseating eyesore of a pizza place you never ate at? It's closed! Sarah Mirk mistakenly thought you would give a fuck.

• Daringly answering a question no one asked, Denis C. Theriault wrote, "Yes, Even the Mayor Has to Sit Through Jury Duty." Proving his keen journalistic instincts have no equal, Theriault then posted a photograph. Of the mayor. Sitting on a bench. Waiting for jury duty. Pointedly ignoring the insufferable shithead with the camera.

• Rather than improve their half-assed "arts" and "film" sections, Alison Hallett and Erik Henriksen decided to wring their hands about the issue of internet anonymity. Shortly thereafter, the shit-smeared code monkeys who (poorly) run Blogtown turned on the previously disabled "allow anonymous dipshits to comment" feature—meaning Blogtown's comment threads will now boast even more insufferable cretins. Websites get the commenters they deserve; the Mercury's commenters are fuckwads.

• Well, well, well! I wonder what Marjorie Skinner was up to this week! No doubt prattling on about lady-topics like lace handkerchiefs, high-heeled shoes, periods, or... no! I spoke too soon! Predictably oblivious to the fact that she has become a Portlandia-worthy parody of herself, she whined incessantly about tofu scrambles.

I will return next week, and not one moment before. I urge you to do the same.