Illustration by Kalah Allen

To all my neighbors in the Laurelhurst: Fuck you!!!! Oh, you don't like bums drinking malt liquor? Go sleep under a fucking bridge some night, ASSHOLE, and see if you don't need to get cheaply drunk. Now you're busy convincing all the mini-marts to discontinue carrying my beloved 211 Steel Reserve. For fuck's sake, why? "Oh, bums are getting drunk," you say. Is this a fucking crime!!? Are bums out tagging up your neighborhood at 3 am? No. They might be howling at the moon completely shit-faced, but who hasn't? Are bums threatening anyone? Does it bother you to be asked for spare change when you won't even look them in the face? Leave their beer the fuck alone. Better yet, stay the fuck away from my 211 High Gravity. I work 40 hours a week like the rest of you slobs, and when I get home I WANT TO GET FUCKIN' CRUNKED!!!! How dare you mount your gilded steed of superiority and cast down your judgments as if your own life has any meaning? Go zip home from Henry's after a couple drinks and kill some pedestrian—make it a hobo, why don't you? You're all scum, dirtier than any bum, and less fun to hang out with.-Anonymous