Excuse my absence last week, imbeciles. I took a brief vacation to the greater Chicagoland area in order to get the patchouli stench of half-assed revolution out of my nostrils. Alas, shortly after my arrival, I encountered this dipshit. The matter has been dealt with.

• Having apparently taken a position in the Mercury's floundering ad sales department, Marjorie Skinner posted an "adorable promo video" for a store that sells baseball caps made out of spray paint. If this is how the grease-faced "teens" of today are dressing, I urge society to redouble its efforts to marginalize and impoverish them.

• As shamelessly trampy as ever, Courtney Ferguson aggressively "hit on" a man three times her age. Were her attempts successful? Of course not. THEY NEVER ARE.

• Denis C. Theriault took great pride in pinpointing the moment "police lost the Occupy Portland narrative." Mr. Theriault, allow me to share with you a narrative all of Portland would be delighted by: You, getting pepper-sprayed in the face.

• Ned Lannamann wrote a predictably incomprehensible post that contained the word "twitterblasting"—which, conicidentally, is what Mr. Lannamann's mother did to me this morning! I thoroughly enjoyed it, Mr. Lannamann. My compliments to the chef.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey played with some pictures of little girls.

• Alex Zielinski, for some harebrained reason, showered much-desired attention upon Portland's brave anarchists—who summoned the courage to momentarily stiffen their limp wrists and throw a rock through a window, then scurry away.

• With her usual glass-eyed, slack-jawed befuddlement, Sarah Mirk was on the scene as Occupy's brave protesters stood outside a bank and screamed at tellers who probably make minimum wage.

• Alison Hallett went into great detail about a movie made for stupid children. The film appears to be about poor people who are taken to a homosexual indoctrination camp and then taught archery. The perennially lonely Ms. Hallett also thought it appropriate to explain which underage actor(s) she wishes to have sexual intercourse with.

• Erik Henriksen proved his naysayers wrong, suggesting that he can, in fact, appreciate fine foreign cinema—as long as it contains all the same Star Track bullshit that he and all of his prepubescent retard buddies are inexplicably obsessed with.

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