Afternoon, shitbags.

• "I completely forgot about Brumm," giggled slackjaw Sarah Mirk, explaining why pint-sized mayoral candidate Max Brumm was absent in her story that was about mayoral candidates. "I just straight up forgot that he existed." Ms. Mirk, you're as oblivious as the delusional rugrat you failed to report on. Perhaps the two of you should get married, squelch out a few miniature wonk-tards, and then drive the Mirk-Brumm minivan off of a motherfucking cliff.

• Perhaps unaware that Marjorie Skinner already reports on insufferably irrelevant fashion "news," Ezra "Ace" Caraeff daintily typed a few words about women's tank tops. Next week: his thoughts on nail polish, and which Sex and the City character he most identifies with! (Spoiler: the Jew.)

• Courtney Ferguson: still useless.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey fell in love with Dane Cook. That seems about right.

• BREAKING NEWS: Tony Perez reported that Mayor Sam Adams and several city commissioners will learn how to "make a a cold watermelon and cucumber salad with fennel and mint"! Shut shut your mouth mouth, imbecile.

• Another week, another depressing Alison Hallett diary entry.

• Marjorie Skinner wrote something about some idiot hippies. GET A JOB, LONGHAIRS. TAKE A SHOWER, DIRTFEET. WRITE LIKE YOU USED TO, MS. SKINNER.

• Erik Henriksen implied he could read a book that does not contain any Spider-Men. Good luck with those 928 pages, dipshit!

• Ned Lannamann saw a video of a skateboarding dog and, predictably enough, immediately started jumping up and down and clapping. No one show him the video below, lest the cretin ejaculate all over his desk in delight.

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