FRANK CASSANO
  • FRANK CASSANO
In one of her many periods of sentimental frailty, one of my more homely ex-wives once adopted a retarded runt of a puppy. This puppy shat in our house on a near-hourly basis: sometimes it was near the kitchen door; sometimes it was upon the hearth; most frequently, for unknown reasons, its filth was deposited directly in front of the entrance to my humidor. Rubbing this puppy's nose in its reeking excrement proved ineffective—those of you paying a minimum of attention to this tale might remember, should you try exceedingly hard, that I already told you it was a retard. After two days of this behavior, I took this insipid creature to the pound, informed the moron working there that the animal was crammed full of rabid chlamydia, and ordered them to euthanize it immediately.

Imbeciles, you return to this blog, day after day, inexplicably eager to read its half-assed content—but somehow, you have yet to learn that excrement is a thing to be avoided. One day you too shall be dealt with.

• It was a banner week for the obnoxious Sarah Mirk, who supplemented her usual whining—this time, it was about how inconvenient it is that her Safeway's being remodeled, WAAAAAAHHHH—with a video of local children "rapping." This video is an excellent advertisement for birth control.

• Proving that she has entirely too much time on her hands—and thus might be a prime candidate for downsizing—Alison Hallett loudly bragged to no one in particular that she had made some disgusting-sounding cookies.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey was on vacation, no doubt frolicking about Portland in one of his many mesh t-shirts. PARENTS, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE?

• In yet another shameless attempt to exploit the Mercury's long-suffering readers, Marjorie Skinner announced an upcoming Mercury yard sale. Readers, consider the offal the Mercury jackasses foist upon you for free; shudder as you imagine what they might try to sell you.

• Just what Portland needs: Another fucking McMenamins, and more fucking "indie rock." Ned Lannamann is a cretin, and thus undeserving of even the smallest dollop of respect, but I will grudgingly admit that I'm impressed he wrote the following phrase without even a hint of sarcasm: "Corin Tucker, David Bazan, and the Built to Spill's Doug Martsch? Sign us up."

• As per usual, neither Ezra "Ace" Caraeff nor Courtney Ferguson did a single thing worth mentioning.

• As lazily inept as ever, Erik Henriksen cut-and-pasted a press release, a previously written film review, and an embedded YouTube to report the urgent news that Portland's village idiot, Daniel "The Fat One" Baldwin, has started referring to himself as "Double D."

• Laura Hudson, whoever the fuck that is, drunkenly interviewed a drunk KJ, then mistakenly thought anyone would give two shit squirts about the resultant gibberish. If this post were a Swiftian satire of Portland hipsters, it could be excused. It is not.

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