• Mercury Editor-in-Chief Wm. Steven Humphrey reported on a gruesome local maiming... in order talk about that one time he got high. Keep saving some wall space for that Pulitzer, imbecile!
• Marjorie Skinner noted that Portland is on GQ's list of America's worst-dressed cities. As a fashion writer in Portland, Ms. Skinner, this makes you the equivalent of a sommelier at Applebee's. I'll take some cheese fries whenever you get a chance, sweet cheeks.
• Professional weakling Erik Henriksen shocked everyone by revealing he is capable of riding a bicycle. Congratulations on mastering an antiquated transportation technology used by impoverished hipsters and shit-stained children, Mr. Henriksen! Now kindly pedal your little bike as far away from me as humanly fucking possible.
• A bunch of music snobs bickered about bands nobody gives a queef about. What's that? Ezra "Ace" Caraeff is involved? WHAT A FUCKING SURPRISE.
• The perpetually befuddled Ned Lannamann has taken to wandering aimlessly around town, taking pictures of shitty flyers. What do you do all day, Mr. Lannamann? How confusing do you find your pathetic, empty life? (Don't actually answer that, idiot. I don't give a queef.)
• Cat hair-covered spinster Alison Hallett once again refused to shut her goddamn trap about a series of movies intended for preschoolers.
• Denis C. Theriault posted a video of one of Portland's infamous wuss fights. More limp-wristed flailing and slapping, please!
• Sarah Mirk and Courtney Ferguson: STILL ON VACATION. The fact they can take weeks off without anyone noticing is a good indicator how little they contribute to the Mercury, and an even better indicator that they should both be fired. (Or, at the very least, forced to have a slap fight.)
• Tony Perez's latest collection of typos explains how he got bird flu or something. I did not read it. I hope that he is dead.
I will return next week, and not one moment before. I urge you to do the same.
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