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Orange Sunshine v1.0

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  Wednesday, October 01, 2008
503 Represents
Love the music, infinitely annoyed by the people...still, this is pretty cool.

The Dandy Warhols are releasing the first 12 tracks of a collaborative project called Breathe Easy on Oct. 21, with all the profits going to the Three Rivers Land Conservancy.

The tracks were recorded at the Dandys' Odditorium studio in Portland, where they got other bands to start layering their work with other bands, laying tracks and ideas on top of each other. Besides the Dandys themselves, artists include the Raveonettes, the Black Angels, J Mascis, Saul Williams, Spoon's Britt Daniel and Midnight Movies. The result blurs the line between genres -- something I've seen happening more and more lately. (Does genre matter anymore? Not sure.) - Oregonlive

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Thursday, August 21, 2008
Portland, I love you...but you're fucked up.

Eric C. Gottschalk was at the bottom of the pecking order in the Parkrose apartment he shared with a "street family" of young adults.

Prosecutors say the band's matriarch and its enforcer had the 23-year-old sign a contract in which he agreed to do whatever they said and gave them permission to beat him if he didn't. The contract was marked with Gottschalk's blood.

The band of mostly 18- to 25-year-olds didn't allow Gottschalk to sit on the apartment's furniture. Members punched him with brass knuckles and -- in one of the more violent incidents -- put him in the bathtub and poured hot cooking grease on his genitals, prosecutors say. - Oregonlive

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Wednesday, July 23, 2008
King Black Acid
Stumbled on this article over at the hated Willamette Week. Bummed I didn't read it a month ago so I could have seen the show....sigh.

Daniel Riddle claims he isn't wearing any pants. Over the phone, he says he's more comfortable this way.

Born on a hippie commune in the 1960s-he says he doesn't know the actual date-Riddle grew up in the company of rockers; his mother's boyfriend worked for the Grateful Dead, Neil Young, Santana and the Allman Brothers. He moved to Portland from San Francisco in the late '80s, becoming a recognizable face in the local rock scene as both a nine-year employee of Satyricon and as a member of world-renowned alt-rock band Hitting Birth. But it was in the early '90s that he found his voice in King Black Acid. - WW

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Saturday, May 24, 2008
I Forgot How Much I Liked This Song


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Saturday, May 03, 2008
OregonLive Tres
'Twas a slow week at work, hence a trio of cool articles from OregonLive...

Uno:

In the distant underwater murk, the spots appear first, moving in unison like a school of fish. Coming closer, the illusion gives way. A shark the size of a city bus emerges, speckled and crosshatched like a checkerboard from head to tail, cruising fast and effortlessly through the warm sea.

"It's an amazing pleasure to swim with them," says Jason Holmberg, who met his first whale shark while scuba diving in the Red Sea in 2002. The giants -- reaching lengths greater than 60 feet -- use their cavernous mouths to suck up tiny plankton; they approach divers with curiosity.

"Its eyes will track you; you can look at it, and it will look back at you," he says. "It's like contact with alien life." - More

Whale Sharks are inherently cool.

Dos:

The 24-hour Church of Elvis is Back!

Elvis has re-entered the building -- or at least the building's elevator shaft.

After an absence of seven Blue Christmases, Portland's erstwhile international icon, the 24-Hour Church of Elvis, is coming back.

By mid-May, worshippers should be able to don their blue suede shoes and rock over to 408 N.W. Couch St., where a storefront window will house the "church," the world's cheapest psychic and the world's first 24-hour coin-operated art gallery. - More

Tres:

Yes, you can get a burger at the new Deschutes Brewery & Public House in the Pearl District -- a burger with house-made pickles, a roll fresh from their bakery and, soon enough, beef from cows fed on the brewery's spent grain.

"As a brewpub, we'll exceed people's expectations," said chef Jeff Usinowicz. "We'll definitely be a brewpub, but we'll also be a great restaurant -- the kind of place where, if you don't feel like getting dressed up for Bluehour, you can drop by as you are for some great food and great beer."

The $5 million brewpub opens Friday across from the Gerding Armory, in a historic 1919 building that the Deschutes management saved from being razed for another condo tower.

When you visit, you'll find lobster ravioli on the menu, plus Buffalo wings and hand-cut french fries; sausage and duck prosciutto made in-house, just like the pretzels; blackened ahi tuna or pub-style fish and chips; wild mushroom ragout topped with Juniper Farms goat cheese; or good ol' mac and cheese. - More

Mirror Pond on tap and decent sounding eats....I'm there dude.

Counting down....

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Monday, April 14, 2008
Cinema 21

Cinema 21, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

For some reason I keep coming back to this pic. It's not the greatest, not the worst, but it's growing on me.

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Sunday, April 13, 2008
McMenamins West African Chicken-Peanut Soup
I thought I would post this recipe to Comentario Loco while Edible Foods is closed for remodel.

1 cup diced cooked chicken
2/3 cup diced onion
1 1/2 t minced garlic
2 T dark sesame oil
1 1/2 t curry powder
1/2 t salt
1/2 t black pepper
1/2 t crushed red pepper flakes
3 cups chicken broth
1/4 cup tomato paste
1 cup chopped stewed tomatoes, drained
3 T chunky peanut butter

In a large pot, saute the chicken, onion, and garlic in the sesame oil for 10 minutes, until onion is tender. Add the curry powder, salt, pepper and red pepper flakes and saute 1 minute more.

Add the chicken broth, tomato paste, stewed tomatoes and peanut butter, stirring until well-combined. Heat until very hot but not boiling. Serve immediately. Serves 6.

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Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Countdown...

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Saturday, February 02, 2008
Missing the Bridge

The Obligatory Shot, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

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Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Digging this pic.

Lonely Tire, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

It needs to be grainier and more beat-up looking, but I'm digging this pic. Snapped in my old neighborhood, St. Johns, in PDX.

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Sunday, January 20, 2008
At Tony Starlight's Supper Club & Lounge...

Gifts for the Host, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

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Saturday, December 15, 2007
Martini Time

Over the years, various people have read various meanings into the oversized and ornately lit martini glass that beams down over Portland each holiday season.

To some, the West Hills fixture is a familiar symbol of Christmas cheer. To others, it's an homage to Portland's anti-establishment ethos. To a few, it's unfortunate encouragement to party too hard this time of year.

The real story behind the glass-and-metal display is simpler, and sweeter. - OregonLive

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Sunday, November 04, 2007
Fugitives & Refugees - Cathedral Park
"This park gets its name from the towering gothic arches that carry the Saint John's Bridge overhead. (Note: The saint in St. Johns is rarely if ever spelled out and there is no apostrophe in Johns. As a Portlander, Palahniuk should know that.) These arches march through the park, creating a sort of cathedral effect. It's a wide-open park of lawns and play equipment, but not long ago it was a wasteland of briar thickets and hobo jungles, warehouses, and old wharves.

For most of the twentieth century local kids earned summer money by picking strawberries, raspberries, and boysenberries on outlying farms. These kids would wait, early in the morning, on street corners where the "Berry Buses" would pick them up. The buses took them to work and brought them home.

In the 1930s a young girl was kidnapped while waiting for the Berry Bus in North Portland. According to local legend, she was taken to the bushes below the north end of the Saint John's Bridge (sigh), tortured, and killed. Even now that Cathedral Park is a nice garden and hosts a summer jazz festival, nearby residents say you can still hear that one girl screaming in the park on warm summer nights." - From Fugitives and Refugees by Chuck Palahniuk

The butchering of St. Johns aside, I've actually heard this "ghost" on more than one occasion - only during the summer, and only at night. The first time you hear it, your first instinct is to call the cops - unless you're a prick or something - the only problem is it's nearly impossible to place where the screams are coming from. The screaming is faint enough to feel blocks away, but clear enough that you have no problem making out what they are - a girl/woman screaming. This "ghost" screams in surround-sound - distant, but close and seemingly coming from every direction. Very weird.

Like I said, the first time you hear it, it'll freak you out, after that you get used to it. The screams are fairly consistent and recognizable to the point that in the event a real person was out there facing some kind of trauma, you'd be able to tell the difference.

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Monday, October 22, 2007
Homesick

Now Playing, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

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Sunday, October 07, 2007
St. Johns - Gateway to the Portland Harbor
John sent me a great link to PDXhistory.com's awesome St. Johns page. Before moving to Reno, and now Lake Tahoe, I lived in Portland, Oregon for the better part of 15 years - the bulk of that time in Northwest Portland, a little time in Linnton, and the last two years of my stay in St. Johns. I have something of a love/hate relationship with Portland, but still consider it home, and the St. Johns/Linnton area doubly so. Waking up every morning to a view of the St. Johns bridge didn't suck, plus at the time I had the World's Greatest Commute. St. Johns is a strange area of town in a town known for strange things. Like everywhere else in Portland its charm is slowly being eroded through gentrification, but even the eternal march of progress will never fully take away its magic.

At any rate, check out the images on PDXhistory.com, it's interesting stuff.

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Thursday, September 27, 2007
Steve Fossett, Bigfoot, & the Loch Ness Monster
LiveScience has an interesting take on the use of satellite mapping in the search for Steve Fossett:

Adventurer Steve Fossett went missing Sept. 3 about 70 miles southeast of Reno, Nevada, in a small plane. He left no flight plan, and searchers have combed tens of thousands of square miles of Nevada and California. After weeks of fruitless searches, and with the survival window closing, Web users were enlisted to help in Fossett's rescue, from the comfort of their own homes.

Using a program called Mechanical Turk, high-resolution satellite imagery of the search area was collected and analyzed. Participants were shown a single satellite image and asked to note any objects or wreckage that could be a plane or its debris.

The search did solve a few mysteries: several previously unknown small plane wrecks - some dating back to the 1950s - were found. Though Fossett and his plane remain missing, the satellite technology used to search for him could theoretically be applied to other types of searches. It may finally verify the existence of large, mysterious creatures reputed to inhabit the globe. Unknown animals such as Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster, for example, might be easily located and captured - if indeed they exist. - More

It's an interesting argument, and as a huge cryptozoology fan I'd love to see something come of it. It's becoming increasingly difficult write-off cryptozoologists as the tin foil hat set when every few years new species are being "discovered" left and right. It wasn't that long ago when giant squid were just a myth.

And speaking of the Loch Ness monster, from an article in the Reno Gazette-Journal, I learned Lake Tahoe has their own lake monster, Tessie.

TAHOE CITY - Each report of a Tahoe Tessie sighting adds to the mythology of the lake's legendary creature.

The legend is so prevalent that Beth Douglas, of Sacramento, thought Tessie sightings happen every day in Tahoe.

That's why Douglas didn't blink at her friend Ron Talmage's reaction last Friday afternoon to a dark shape undulating at the lake's surface about 100 yards off Tahoe Park Beach.

"Does that look solid to you?" Talmage, of Rocklin, said to Douglas.

When Douglas replied that the shape - with three to five humps along its back - did look solid, Talmage flatly said "Damn, that's Tessie." - Tahoe Tribune

The Tessie plot thickens with reports of a Lake Tahoe dive by none other than Jacques Cousteau - a dive that yielded a sighting so horrific that Cousteau hid the footage, claiming the world wasn't ready for what he witnessed.

"Even famed oceanographer Jacques Cousteau is said to have had a brush with something horrific in a deepwater dive in the mid-1970s. "The world isn't ready for what was down there," is the quote most commonly credited. Cousteau never released any photographs or data from the dive, adding to the mystery and legend." - San Francisco Gate

The only kink in the story is Cousteau never actually made the dive. Nevada historian Guy Rocha does an effective job debunking the Cousteau legend on the Nevada State Library website as part of his excellent Historical Myth a Month series. In the same article he also details the legend that the bottom of Lake Tahoe contains a underwater graveyard complete with perfectly preserved bodies due to the frigid lake temperatures. Granted with Nevada's history of mob activity there probably are more than a few bodies resting on the bottom of Lake Tahoe, but the idea that they would remain preserved after all these years flies in the face of science, not to mention common sense. Then again, so does George Bush. :)

On a decidedly non-cryptozoological note, Northern Nevada also boasts another mystery - the whereabouts of John C. Fremont's lost cannon. According to the same RGJ article that turned me on to Tessie:

Snow was deep over the Carson Pass in January 1844 as Fremont's group, which included Kit Carson, tried to cross. The 1835-model mountain howitzer they carried proved too cumbersome and they left it behind somewhere near the state line and Bridgeport, Calif.

"They were in the vicinity west of the Walker River," said Nevada state archivist Guy Rocha. "They just walked away from it."

The group headed to California and never returned to find it. Along the way, Fremont is believed to be the first white man to view Lake Tahoe. Treasure hunters have looked for the prized cannon without success, using Fremont's journals as a guide.

"Like buried treasure, people will look for that cannon 'til kingdom come," Rocha said.

John C. Fremont deserves an extra shout-out as Portland, Oregon's Fremont Bridge is named after him - although in my house it's always been known as the "Big Scary Bridge," I love it when a story on Steve Fossett leads to Tessie, which in turns leads to Jacques Cousteau, underwater graveyards, lost cannons, and eventually home. Yes folks, this is what I do at night when I should be writing.

All roads lead to Portland.

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Friday, March 30, 2007
Homesick...on the rocks



I'm resisting the urge to pack up all my stuff and move back to Portland this afternoon. Not only is Tony back, but he has his own club????

Bring back the Bingo!

The best part?

At Tony Starlight's we are much more amenable to casual sex than casual Friday. Although Tony's has no official dress code, don't embarrass yourself. It should be noted there will be a $3 surcharge for men in open-toed shoes and a $1 fee for each item of Patagonia on your person. This is not true but it should be.

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Sunday, November 05, 2006
Brushes with Fame III
Al Strobel - You may not recognize the name, but if you ever watched Twin Peaks, you're probably familiar with Phillip Michael Gerard aka The One-Armed Man. Al's a longtime resident of Portland, Oregon and could often be found riding his bike around town. In fact, the first time I saw him was when he rode past me in Northwest Portland after I finished a Twin Peaks marathon. Dazed from hours of sleep deprivation and marijuana consumption, having the One-Armed Man ride by on a bicycle moments after I left him on my TV set was more than a little unnerving.

Flash forward a year or so later and Molliwogg and I found ourselves regulars at the Goose Hollow Inn. A former roommate had just hired on at the Goose and, being big fans of free drinks, we quickly made ourselves natives. Turns out Al was a regular as well and, after a week or two, we finally sat down to break suds together.

Like the rest of the regulars there, Al's a really weird guy. I mean that in the best possible sense of the word. Very cool, very laid back, very broke and very weird. He could go on for hours talking about curling and various drug-induced road trips he took in his youth. Soon he ceased to be the One-Armed Man and became Al, just another one of the crazy old guys at the Goose.

Which is not to say he didn't know how to market himself on occasion. As par for the course, the bar closed around one and the Goose Crew would head out to a couple bars in Northwest to finally catch up with the people they have been serving all day. The posse numbered between five and ten people depending on who tagged along that night, and Al was often among us. Normally he'd dress the same as any old codger (again, I mean that in the best since of the word), but on the nights he'd come out drinking with us, he would sport a satin Twin Peaks jacket as a visual aid to alert anyone with doubts that, yes, he was that one-armed man.

Eventually Al moved out of the area and Molliwogg and I moved on from Portland, but we occasionally get status reports from friends who keep in contact with him.

The Dalai Lama - According to the Northwestern Tibetan Cultural Association website, this would have occurred in May 2001. The Dalai Lama was giving a two day speech in Portland's Pioneer Square. I had considered going but my need for spiritual enlightenment was far outweighed by my claustrophobic fears of standing in the midst of approximately a gazillion people crammed into one city block. I wound up forgetting about it all together.

I was living in Northwest Portland at the time and walked pretty much everywhere. Despite being more or less logically laid out, it still takes less time to walk from point A to point B in Portland, at least in the downtown/Northwest/Pearl District, than it does to drive. I had just crossed one of the many 405 overpasses when I noticed a motorcade coming up on me - lots of cops on motorcycles, pretty red and blue lights, the whole nine yards. I figured it was a cop funeral.

I'm watching them pass and as the limousine they were escorting goes by, I notice the back window is open and, half-hanging out of it, the Dalai Lama is smiling and waving to the few of us that happened to be walking by. We made eye contact and I managed to lift my arm just enough to perform a passable, but totally lame wave. And then he was gone.

This will forever remain the most surreal moment of my life. The only things I can think of that would even come close on the bizarre-o-meter, would be turning the corner and seeing Bigfoot, or bumping into Elvis at the local tavern. (Although I'm pretty sure I saw Elvis working at the St. Johns Safeway in Portland, but that's another story.)

That's about it as far as brushes with fame go. Molliwogg and I passed by Martin Sheen in a Vegas casino once, and she ran into Erik Estrada in the Reno International Airport - a meeting I would kill to have on my resume. I'll settle for what I got, but man, Ponch? That's too cool.

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Monday, October 30, 2006
Flying Monkeys

Flying Monkeys, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

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Monday, August 14, 2006
Homesick

Homesick, originally uploaded by m/a/z/e & Molliwogg.

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Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Portland, Oregon
Well Portland Oregon and sloe gin fizz
If that ain't love then tell me what is
Well I lost my heart it didn't take no time
But that ain't all

I lost my mind in Oregon
In a booth in the corner with the lights down low
I was movin' in fast she was takin' it slow
Well I looked at him and caught him lookin' at me
I knew right then we were playin' free in Oregon

Next day we knew last night got drunk
But we loved enough for the both of us
In the morning when the night had sobered up
It was much too late for the both of us in Oregon

Well sloe gin fizz works might fast
When you drink it by the pitcher and not by the glass
Hey bartender before you close
Pour us one more drink and a pitcher to go - Loretta Lynn/Jack White

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Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Bangkok Shakes, Saigon Quakes, Cleveland Rocks
I'm having a bit of a High Fidelity moment here folks so bear with me. I present my all-time top five most (and least) favorite cities.

Favorite:

Astoria, Oregon/Reno, Nevada (tie): Both are small towns (Astoria being significantly smaller), both with their own unique culture and attitude. To tolerate either city you need to have a certain fortitude. Being on the Oregon Coast isn't all kite flying and Haystack Rock, you have to be able to handle some hurricane-like storms as well. Reno's 5000 feet up and seemingly positioned directly under the sun and trust me when I say at this altitude, the sun has a bit of an attitude problem. I haven't spent a winter here yet, so I don't have anything to say about that - yet. I've always maintained that crazy people in small towns are far more nuts than crazy people in larger towns-Portland, Oregon being the exception as the whole damn city is off their rocker. Astoria and Reno have proven themselves true to this theory, something I find infinitely charming.

Cleveland, Ohio: I cannot stress enough how nice the citizens of Cleveland are. Scarily nice. So nice that one starts to ponder what dark secret they must be hiding, because surely no city can be that nice all the time-it has to be a ruse. Do they eat tourists? Is there something to the abundance of hot wings and the noticeable lack of chicken farms? What's in Lake Erie? During my stay there I remained vigilant, afterwards I spent hours on the internet conducting searches looking for clues. I am happy to report that my efforts were fruitless, the citizens of Cleveland are not part of a vast conspiracy, rather they are actually truly nice people.

Seattle, Washington: I lived in Seattle for about nine months, and if weren't for Molliwogg calling me out of the blue, I'd probably still be there. Bumpershoot is cool. The Vogue is Cool. The Hurricane Cafe is one of my favorite places to eat in the country. Just about the only bad thing I can say about Seattle is what they've done to my former neighborhood, Capitol Hill. The Yuppie machine has taken a once quirky neighborhood and turned it into another sterile shopping/mixed-use nightmare. You used to be able to walk down the street and see gutter punks standing next to grandmas standing next to drag queens, it was beautiful. Now the main drag just looks like a pin-striped nightmare. Gross.

Portland, Oregon: I've lived in Portland the longest-off and on since I was eighteen. Certainly not the most perfect town in the world, for every positive thing you can say about the place there are at least three negatives. But it's been home for the most part. It rains a lot, the summer's are unbearable, at times it seems everyone is an alcoholic and the cops have this nasty habit of shooting unarmed black people. At the same time, it's one of the greenest places you'll ever see in your life, it's close to Astoria and some of my best friends live there. You take the good with the bad and you call it home.

Ashland, Oregon: I'm cheating here as I have not spent much time Ashland, but I defy anyone to drive down the I-5 corridor through Ashland (Southern Oregon in general really) and not fall in love. Rolling hills, a sea of green in the summer, amber and red in the fall. It's awesome.

Least Favorite:

Phoenix, Arizona: In the three months I lived in Phoenix the following events happened-I was almost arrested for starting a gang fight/riot that not only did I not commit, but was rather innocently talking to my girlfriend in Alaska a full half-block away at the time. I was stopped by the local cops for such nefarious crimes as walking down the street and running up to the Circle K to get a soda. I was assaulted by a crazed relative of my roommate, caught in a bizarre love triangle between two of my bosses who wanted to sleep with me, followed by countless skinheads, yelled at by old people for painting my jacket in the local mall as well as a dozen or so other incidents. I would rather walk around naked in Detroit with an armful of hundred dollar bills than ever go back there.

Anchorage, Alaska: I grew up in Anchorage and I'm still working my way through the damage that did to my psyche. In second grade one of my friends hung himself off the jungle gym at school and while you may not think it possible, things got progressively worse from there. On the other hand I met Molliwogg in high school in Anchorage and we've been married going on six years now, so I guess there are positive things to say about the place.

Portland, Oregon: See above. I've got a bit of a love/hate thing going on here.

Yakima, Washington: Nothing against the people of Yakima-I'm sure they are all fine citizens. It's just that I got food poisoning here once after seeing Lollapalooza in the Columbia Gorge. For a solid week I had all sorts of nasties spurting from every part of my body, one of the handful of times I thought I was going to die. For you road-weary travelers out there, stay away from the Taco Bell, they put the yak in Yakima.

Albany, Oregon: You can smell this town from five miles out while driving down I-5, I don't know how the residents stand it. There's some kind of wood-processing plant off the side of the highway belching out the foulest potpourri known to mankind, it's like a cross between dead skunk and feet.

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Monday, May 23, 2005
Vacancy

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Exile on Edison Street

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Thursday, May 12, 2005
Cathedral Park

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Saturday, May 07, 2005
Hot Dogs $3.00

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Thursday, May 05, 2005
Loose Women

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Saturday, April 30, 2005
St. Johns Silhouette

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Monday, April 25, 2005
Portand's Liberty Bell

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Psycho Neighbors/Thank God for 30-day Notices
So I'm getting into my car to go pick up my daughter when out of the corner of my eye I see one of my neighbors with a rather large kitchen knife. If I had normal neighbors this wouldn't be all that big a deal, as there would be the chance of some logical explanation for the blade. If only that were so. In fact I have psycho neighbors-ones that should not be allowed near butter knives much less a Norman Bates special.

Let me clarify something, these cats are not psycho as in, "dude, those cats are psycho." They're psycho as in someone with a medical degree has ran several tests and can say without a shadow of doubt, "dude, those cats are psycho."

Anyway, I'm sitting in my car watching Norman Jr. walk slowly into his garage. I guess now would be a good time to point out he was wearing khaki shorts, flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt which just makes the scene all the more disturbing. At this point I don't know if anyone else is in the garage so I just sort of watch the scene unfold.

Once out of view the screaming begins, not "You stabbed me!" but, "You want me to go to the hospital, don' t you." He says this about six or seven times then walks out of the garage and sees me. I have to admit up until this point I was pretty casual about everything, now I've got a nutcase staring me down while holding the Excalibur of kitchen knives. He looks at me, looks back into the garage then tosses the knife out into the driveway and casually walks up the stairs to his house as if nothing has happened-and I'm sure in his chemically unbalanced cranium nothing has.

I took this as a sign to get the hell out of there and start backing up my car. As I'm backing up, psycho #2 comes barreling out of the garage, throws himself on the hood of my car and screams call 911. I nod my head-the international sign of "yes, I will call 911," and continue to back up. He gets off my car and twirls, yes twirls, about the driveway yelling for the other neighbors to call 911.

I finally get out of the driveway, pull around the block and call Molliwogg, explain the story and have her call 911 for me.

I got back to the house about five minutes later, just in time to see two cop cars, a fire truck and Norman Jr. being loaded into an ambulance, no doubt the recipient of a free visit with Nurse Ratched. Due to my tardiness I missed seeing Portland's finest pointing a bean-bag shotgun at Norman in an attempt to subdue him.

As Mr. Rogers would say, "these are the people in your neighborhood."

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Saturday, January 08, 2005
News of the weird
Gingrich thinking about a 2008 presidential run? If you want an indicator of how far to the right this country has swung, this is it pal. Conventional wisdom indicates the only way the Newt who stole Christmas would even think there's a shot at the presidency is in some kind of alternate universe. Welcome to Bizarro World ladies and gents. Course the Democrats could try the whole tried and true run-a-dead-guy routine, with both candidates out of the picture maybe we could get someone qualified to fill the position.

It's nice to see Portland getting a shout-out in the headlines. Those who watch the evening news have no doubt bore witness to the interview with the aunt of the friend of the second cousin twice removed from the newsmaker. Everything has a local spin to the point of absurdity. Leonard Thomas Bayard, proud owner of the Gulfstream jet that's been flying detainees to the latest torture hot-spots, has made an honest woman out of the Rose City with a legitimate connection to the national news. Problem is, the local Portland businessman doesn't seem to exist.

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Saturday, December 18, 2004
The World's Greatest Commute
I have the world's greatest commute (barring deep-sea divers and astronauts). Up and over Germantown road twice a day. Oregon rainforest and farmland making up a twenty minute drive, the perfect remedy to slutting for the man forty hours a week. Think about that the next time you're parked on I-5 wondering if that throbbing headache is really an aneurysm in disguise.

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Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Dave Salesky Freaks Me Out.
When I was growing up in Anchorage, Alaska Dave Salesky was the weatherman for the local NBC affiliate. Years later I moved to Portland where the weatherman for NBC is, again, Dave Salesky. WTF???

The relationship between an individual and their weatherman was never meant to be a lifelong one. And yet, every time I look at the TV there's Salesky looking right back at me. I've known of Salesky longer than I've known my wife, and I met her in high school. Can you comprehend how wrong that is?

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Thursday, July 22, 2004
View Askew
With the pump of a finger, the View-Master has given generations a 3-D look at everything from man's first moonwalk to the adventures of SpongeBob SquarePants.

The iconic toy occupies a place in the National Toy Hall of Fame, alongside Barbie and Mr. Potato Head, and has inspired many a Web site. This year, it achieves another mark of success, its 65th anniversary.

...

The public got its first good look at View-Master at the 1940 World's Fair in New York, a year after its creator, amateur stereo photographer William Gruber, introduced it in Portland, Ore. By 1941, more than 100,000 stores were carrying it. - Yahoo

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Sunday, July 04, 2004
Are certain lives worth less?
I live in densely packed urban neighborhood characterized by mainly expensive single family homes with modest yards to house the higher end urban yuppie, the occasional medium-sized stretch of kitschy apartment buildings to house a predominantly hipster set and pockets of smaller niche business and urban shopping to service the neighborhood and draw the 'burbs dwellers in so they can be hip too. A nice grid with an abundance of four way stops, a smattering of lights and streets that have all the intersections safely regulated.

I have a friend who lives in a neighborhood with the same mix of building types and streets. The only differences are the average incomes and the ethnic mix, as there is one. Not that my neighborhood is racists, if you can afford to live there or luck out on the cheap crappy apartment like we did you are welcomed with open arms. It's all about the Benjamins.

On my way to my friend's house I got lost, unfortunately, I do that a lot. Anyway I turned down a street I thought was his about ten blocks, or one freeway exit early. When I realized my error I continued through the neighborhood rather than get back on the main street. Those ten blocks were very uncomfortable because almost none of the intersections were regulated. When you aren't sure who is supposed to stop at a four way intersection there is a nagging little fear that someone is going to come sailing through right when you are in the middle. Smack!

I am just curious why a city can afford stop signs for the wealthy but the poor and minorities risk being t-boned every day as they leave for work. Is it all about the Benjamins?

- Molliwogg

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Thursday, July 01, 2004
Water Tower IV

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Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Water Tower III

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Monday, June 21, 2004
Rusty Boat II

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Water Tower I

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Thursday, June 10, 2004
Driveway Plant II

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Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Pink Flowers

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Monday, June 07, 2004
Quack, Quack

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Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Pepper Gomez
Pepper Gomez, former professional wrestler and a friend of mine's father, passed away last Thursday at the age of 77.

"Gomez began wrestling professionally in 1953 in Portland and Seattle before arriving nine years later in the Bay Area, where he raised his arms in triumph in venues such as the Cow Palace and the former Oakland Coliseum." Contra Costa Times

I was in a bar last night and the subject of Pepper came up. No fewer than four people unrelated to the conversation jumped in with their own Pepper stories, some they saw for themselves, some they heard from others, all of them told with a smile.

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Thursday, May 06, 2004
Justified, Poor Training or Racism?
Recently, in a little neighborhood bar where everybody knows everybody's name, I witnessed a very heated discussion over the shooting of Jahar Perez by Officer Jason Sery of the Portland Police Department. The exchange was between two average blue collar workers around the age of 50 and a woman in her 40's.

We'll call the first man Sarge. Sarge has a safety and security related specialization in his current career and a military background. Although he is an extremely calm, sweet, dignified man he is also certified to carry a gun and has a right wing, idealistic, 50's soda fountain worldview ala Andy Griffith.

Obviously, Sarge felt that Officer Sery was correct to shoot Mr. Perez. He does have some good arguments to support his position, assuming the facts we been given are accurate. Sery was within the law and behaved as he was trained to do. In law enforcement it is often kill or be killed. Perez was behaving in a manner that led Sery to believe he and his partner were in danger.

In Sarge's opinion this wouldn't be an issue if Mr. Perez had simply followed the instructions of the police. If the cops say put your hands up, you put your hands up unless you are up to no good, right? What reason do you have not to comply if your intentions are not suspect and assumed dangerous?

The other man is just your average Joe. Non-descript vocation and no visual clues as to his political bent. Clearly not on the extreme left and could even be mistaken for a right winger at first glance. A mistake that is revealed by his vociferous opinions on this subject. I doubt he supports gay marriage but he's no Republican yes man.

Joe doesn't present as clear an argument. He makes up for this in passion of his convictions. Sery is a murderer. He shot a man in cold blood for no reason and it could have been you and it could have been me. Not only is Sery a murderer, all cops are corrupt. Supporting arguments are the anecdotal evidence of his and his acquaintances'. Money stolen from wallets in arrests, unnecessarily rough treatment, profiling, and similar stories of Portland's finest not behaving very finely.

While the arguments are not coherent the honesty of the fear is compelling. He may not be able to debate the topic well but he feels very deeply any citizen runs an unduly heightened risk of death in interactions with Portland Police.

The woman is a recent divorcee dropped from a nicely middle class existence to a more blue
collar, working stiff status. Lillith is a little more to the left but not extreme. Relatively intelligent and a little kooky. Her values clearly derived in the 60's.

Her stance is that this is pure racism. She indicates the predominately anglo patrons of the bar. None of them would have been shot in a minor traffic stop. They shot the guy because he was black. She isn't saying this is white sheets and crosses on the lawn style racism. She is saying it is the black man in the "hood" is assumed guilty until proven innocent style racism. They wouldn't have shot a soccer mom doing exactly the same thing Perez did.

None of them was overly intoxicated. They don't have a history of unruly behavior in that bar. Regardless of their normal behavior they were all screaming at each other over this issue.

After watching the testimony and training video of Officer Jason Sery I have my own strong opinion. This is poor management. In my opinion Sery was either poorly trained, not suited to the profession, had other issues that were affecting his ability to perform as a police officer or was carrying out bad policy. Training, hiring, performance evaluation, and policy making are all management issues.

Ultimately I feel that all three people were right. He did what he was trained to do. Cops are going to become jaded and possibly corrupt because of the job. The statistical chances of a cop being shot by a young black man in a bad neighborhood are probably greater than those a of white woman in the suburbs.

None of this excuses the fact that when they shoot unarmed citizens the police are not doing their job. As taxpayers we really are their ultimate employers and shooting the boss is a bad idea no matter what your profession.

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Tuesday, April 27, 2004
St. Johns Bridge

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Rusty Boat

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Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Portland's LAPD
Preliminary investigations show that a 28-year-old black man shot by Portland Police after a routine traffic stop was unarmed, Portland Police Chief Derrick Foxworth said Monday.

It was the second time in a year that Portland police have shot and killed an unarmed black person after a traffic stop, after a May 5 incident that ended with the death of 21-year-old Kendra James. - Oregonlive

Portland's police chief is calling for a civil rights investigation in the shooting death of an unarmed black man by a white police officer. - KATU

Gee, I really hope Perez's civil rights weren't violated. That's just the sort of thing that would cast an ugly light on the murder of an unarmed citizen.

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Friday, March 12, 2004
Let's get ready to ruuumble.
Nothing spices up a slow news day (Madrid, what's a Madrid?) than another steroid/wrestling death article courtesy of that respected purveyor of candy-colored news, the USA Today. The fact that Wrestlemania 20 is on Sunday is surely a coincidence.

Portland gets a nice shout out in the form of former Portland grappler, Raven, and our very own Rowdy Roddy Piper.

"I experienced what we in the profession call the silent scream" of pain, drugs and loneliness, says wrestling legend "Rowdy" Roddy Piper, 49, who has been in the business more than 30 years. "You're in your hotel room. You're banged up, numb and alone. You don't want to go downstairs to the bar or restaurant. The walls are breathing. You don't want to talk. Panic sets in and you start weeping. It's something all of us go through."

Scott "Raven" Levy, 39, says he used steroids and more than 200 pain pills daily before he kicked the habit a few years ago. "It's part of the job," Levy says. "If you want to be a wrestler, you have to be a big guy, and you have to perfo