• FRANK CASSANO

• For once, Ned Lannamann and I agree on something: Blogtown readers are idiots.

• Displaying the keen journalistic acumen we've come to expect, Marjorie Skinner cut-and-pasted some text from a Facebook event she knows nothing about, then pawned it off as a blog post. By all means, Ms. Skinner, don't tire yourself out.

• What's that? A convention for lonely cat ladies in sweatpants? And Alison Hallett's attending? You don't say.

• Both Sarah Mirk and Courtney Ferguson are on vacation, taking much-needed respites from their daily grinds of doing absolutely shit-all.

• Admirably walking the company line, Denis C. Theriault attempted to convince rubes that swimming in the Willamette River "(probably) won't kill you"—so naturally, it must be perfectly fine to attend the Mercury-sponsored "The Big Float"! Do check your email, Mr. Theriault; I've sent you a photograph of another big float you might be interested in "reporting" on.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey rambled on about "mutton bustin'." I did not read this. I assume he is, as usual, referring to self-pleasure.

• With all the subtlety and tact of a Wm. Steven Humphrey at a Justin Bieber concert, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff offered to administer blowjobs to everyone in Richmond Fontaine.

• Ignoring repeated, legally binding requests by 7-Eleven, Inc., Erik Henriksen once again visited a convenience store in order to annoy bystanders with his nasal natterings about an Icee. Is it too much to hope that the next time Mr. Henriksen visits a 7-Eleven, there is a robbery? A robbery in which Mr. Henriksen is shot in the head? Can anyone reading this assist me with such arrangements? If so, we should talk.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• To the surprise of no one, Wm. Steven Humphrey discussed midgets. There's not much to say about them, Mr. Humphrey. To wit: They are a filthy people, but rather feisty in bed. I will give them that.

• What's that, Tony Perez? You've somehow managed to write a post that involves both Ayn Rand and overpriced Uncle Ben's Rice? What an excellent use of Blogtown's resources! I loathe you.

• Denis C. Theriault droned on about "Section 2-206(9) of the charter of the city of Portland." Mr. Theriault, your giddy enthusiasm for stultifying bullshit is both exhausting and humiliating.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff's beloved children's game is going to have a recess. However will Mr. Caraeff now spend his time? Toilet training, let us hope.

• Ned Lannamann's "Boat Cop" thread should be retitled "Dipshit Bait."

• Marjorie Skinner revealed that Drew Barrymore might have been in Portland last weekend! Did Ms. Skinner, perhaps, interview Ms. Barrymore? Of course not. Did Ms. Skinner bother to verify Ms. Barrymore's visit? Of course not. Is Ms. Skinner apparently of the belief it is 1996 and Ms. Barrymore is still a celebrity? Of course. Keep up the good work, Ms. Skinner!

• I will waste neither my time nor yours by linking to anything written by either Sarah Mirk or Courtney Ferguson.

• Erik Henrisken wrote not one but four separate goddamn posts about clinically retarded director Michael Bay. Whoever put the moronic Mr. Henriksen in charge of the Mercury's film coverage should be garroted. Or, even worse, forced to watch whatever inane robot movie the waterbrained Mr. Henriksen is currently enamored with.

• Alison Hallett thought people should know her first online alias was the predictably insipid "AliCat123." My, what a clever use of capitalization, Ms. Hallett! Now go back to AOL's "Teen Riot Grrrl Chatroom." No one has any need of you here.

Prepare yourselves, silky seductresses of Magic Gardens. Papa Frank's comin'.

• FRANK CASSANO

• Sarah Mirk nattered on about the World Naked Bike Ride. Like a pervert, she took pictures; like a stupid pervert, she left her camera in her unattended bike bag, which was promptly stolen. Ha! Imbecile.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff enjoyed a rare, brief moment of success when he attempted to write the internet's most boring post about the NBA draft.

• Taking a break from mumbling about hipster couture, Marjorie Skinner wrote about Mad Men-inspired fashion. As with so much you prattle on about, Ms. Skinner, I simply do not care; however, please alert me immediately if and when there is a Barney Miller collection.

• Ever willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of what his significantly more talented peers call a "hot scoop," Denis C. Theriault reported from the dangerous front lines of a neighborhood squabble between yuppies and druggies. Much like the Mercury's editorial staff, there are no clear winners.

• "Sing it with me: 'Black Betty bam-ba-lam! Woah! Black Betty bam-ba-lam! Woah!'" brayed Courtney Ferguson. No.

• "Meet Portland's 'street librarian'!" chirped Alison Hallett. No.

• With his trademark subtlety, Wm. Steven Humphrey discussed the fact that American Idol is coming to Portland. "COME ON GUYS, LET'S DO THIS THING!" Mr. Humphrey screeched. "I want to see you Blogtownies out in full force, singing the shit out of 'My Heart will Go On' or preferably something from Dream Girls!" Mr. Humphrey, you are the Mercury's Paula Abdul.

• Like a tow-headed midget showing up unsolicited at one's front door to sell shitty cookies, Ned Lannamann desperately attempted to sell tickets to a hippie convention. Shamelessly exploit your readers in such a manner again, Mr. Lannamann, and I will do to you as I have done to countless Girl Scouts: This pepper spray is here for a reason.

• Erik Henriksen: Idiot.

• Tony Perez blamed alcohol for making the world appear "fuzzy." No, Mr. Perez: The reason you think things look fuzzy is because you have chlamydia in your eyes.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• With his finger on the pulse of elementary-school pop culture, Wm. Steven Humphrey whined about a drawing of his beloved cartoons The Avengers. As I am neither an infant nor a nerd, I did not read this post.

• Tony Perez celebrated the birthday of bourbon. Let us pray that next week, Mr. Perez will deign to share his shoddily written exposé regarding Zima's Bat Mitzvah.

• Marjorie Skinner wrote a blowjob of a review about some local film. Yes, yes, Ms. Skinner: We're all very impressed you saw a film that was in black and white.

• Sarah Mirk offered a pun for a headline: "Urine Trouble." Congratulations, Ms. Mirk, on your continually impressive work.

• Surprising no one, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff declared that a photograph featuring a baby boomer blowhard in conversation with a drug-addled pederast was his "favorite photo ever."

• Alison Hallett lobbed a final insult to Emily Harris—the former host of Think Out Loud, OPB's daily reminder of Oregonians' intellectual mediocrity. Ms. Hallett—who previously invented a Think Out Loud drinking game—described Ms. Harris' journalistic persona as "frustrating" and "unintentionally hilarious." Glass houses, Ms. Hallett. Glass houses.

• The quite possibly mentally retarded Ned Lannamann—a writer tasked with writing about contemporary music in Portland, Oregon—wrote about a Genesis cover band playing in Tacoma, Washington.

• Courtney Ferguson thought Blogtown readers needed to know that a doddering director who hasn't been interesting since 1991 is opening a night club in Paris. Congratulations, Ms. Ferguson! You just out-Lannamanned Ned Lannamann for the "Least Relevant Post on Blogtown" award. You win shame.

• Erik Henriksen rambled interminably about "Arkngthand, Norway's hottest Game of Thrones metal band." We have had this discussion several times before, Mr. Henriksen, so let us keep it brief: SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. STOP WASTING EVERYONE'S GODDAMN TIME.

• Denis C. Theriault wrote about a controversial proposal that would allow drivers to immediately identify yuppie shitstains. I am in favor of it.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Reveling in his irrelevance, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff wrote about Emily's Army, some band that features some kid whose father is in some other band. Truly fascinating stuff, Mr. Caraeff.

• Alison Hallett obnoxiously trilled about a new cafe—noting, for no discernible reason, that she enjoys reading fantasy-romance novels while sitting on their couch! So now you know what cafe to avoid.

• Writing a whopping 13 words of original content—as well as tirelessly copying and pasting an entire sentence from Wikipedia—Wm. Steven Humphrey educated Blogtown readers about Funyuns. By all means, Mr. Humphrey, don't overexert yourself.

• Finally hitting paydirt after months of fruitlessly Googling "teenage boys + Portland politics," Denis C. Theriault came upon 19-year-old mayoral candidate Max Brumm. ATTN. YOUNG MR. BRUMM: DO NOT TO RESPOND TO MR. THERIAULT'S EMAILS.

• Sarah Mirk offered her drooling, lazy-eyed readers two flavors of bland this week: A lobbying expenditures pie chart and a synopsis of the latest episode of Portlandia. Ms. Mirk, your blog posts make me wish I was Amish.

• Marjorie Skinner blathered about either the bubonic plague or cats. As is frequently the case with Ms. Skinner's dribblings, I chose to expend neither the effort nor the time it would have required to decipher whatever the fuck it was she was nattering on about.

• In an online activity somehow even more pathetic than Mr. Theriault's, Erik Henriksen apparently watches Blossom at 4 am on Tuesday mornings. He deserves to die alone.

• At long last, Courtney Ferguson has decided to start contributing to Blogtown! Alas, she's chosen to write about roller derby—a "women's sport" that hasn't been sexy since 1981. Ms. Ferguson, I urge you to instead report on (and perhaps participate in?) Portland's burgeoning "foxy boxing" scene. Matches are held every Wednesday night in my basement.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff worked himself into a tizzy about "The Big Float." I did not read this. I assume the estimable Mr. Caraeff is, once again, giddily playing with his bowel movements.

• Determined to drive away his four remaining readers, Wm. Steven Humphrey picked up his old habit of locking his office door, lowering the window shades, and leering at Justin Bieber. Portland Police Bureau: PLEASE RETURN MY TELEPHONE CALLS.

• Marjorie Skinner wrote something about a chocolate bar and someone named Naomi Campbell. Did you find this interesting? You should be beaten with a pipe.

• Occasional Blogtown readers are perhaps under the impression that Alison Hallett long ago hit her nadir of pathetic loneliness. Not true.

• Starry-eyed and stupid, Denis C. Theriault stammered in bewilderment after encountering someone his own age who does not precisely share his political views.

• Bereft of irrelevant bicycle news, Sarah Mirk instead wrote something irrelevant about a building so ugly it will give your eyes herpes.

• Erik Henriksen's contributions to Blogtown consist of little more than shit-nuggets loosened from an empty cranium, his weakling mind rotted away by children's "pop culture." He is clinically retarded.

• Ned Lannamann went to a bar, looked around, and decided it would be a worthwhile activity to prattle on about it. Think again, dipshit.

• Tony Perez panicked over the possibility that his precious Stumptown Coffee might lose some hipster credibility. "Say it ain't so!" Mr. Perez squealed in terror, perhaps forgetting that 7-ELEVEN HAS COFFEE TOO, YOU FUCKING IMBECILE.

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

• Mercury News Reporter Editor Denis Theriault wrote a blog story something about the Oregonian selling land to the city for something other than bikes? I don't get it! BUT I LIKE IT! I'm gonna invite that Denis and his wife over for a barbeque. Bring your sandals! Let's play horseshoes! Ha-ha! :)

• Music listener person Ezra Ace (Like the card! I get it, ha-ha!) Caraeff finds the worst band in the world. Oh, I bet they're not that bad. You know who I like? Those Blues Travelers. That's toe-tapping stuff, that is! Listen to those guys, Ezra! Those Blues Travelers! Ha! Enjoy life! :)

• Oh, and that Marjorie Skinner person wrote something that I didn't understand at all! But you know what? SHE'S PRETTY. And oh, that smile? Boy, I tell you it lights up the room. Never change, sweetie. You're a sweet little peach.

• Talk about pretty girls? How about that Courtney Ferguson? Oh, and SMART. She wrote a very interesting internet story about the adorable bear ride at the upcoming Rose Festival carnival. But this was weird: a bunch of people added their own opinions about what Courtney wrote after the article was over, and—well—they sounded sort of mean! People should be nice on the internet. And that's how I feel about that! :) Kidding. Not really mad. LOL.

• Hmm... something, something, something... book recommendations on Questionland... something, something, something. Oh, you know who a good book writer is? T.J. Johnston! He writes books about the Civil War, and let me tell you, they are cracking! You're a good writer too, Mrs. Alison Hallett.

• Erik Henriksen is an internet writer who wrote something mean about Chewbacca and an Ewok dancing to a Guns 'N' Roses song. I like all those things. How could it be bad? I bet Erik is a nice person anyway, though. Kidding. :(

• Ned Lannamanananaman wrote an ad this week. Now, I don't care for ads myself. Unless they're about high blood pressure medications or commemorative civil war plates. Those are necessary!

• Wm. Steven Humphrey seems to have spent the entire week either obsessing about that homosexual Justine Briber kid or some new internet where people yell a lot at no one in particular. You know... I just don't think I like him very much. I apologize! But I just don't. That's okay, though. Maybe his family is nice. Hey, where's the internet blog for good news and happy people? If you know of one, send it to my AOL account.

Okay! Thanks for letting me do this, Brother Frank! "I will be returning next week, and not one moment before! Grump! Grump! Grump! Ha!" (See what I said there? That's what Frank always says!) But really, you should totally come back every day, because this Blogtown internet is keen, and the people? REALLY, REALLY nice. Pretty girls! I love ya, you crazy kids! :) ROTFLOL! :) Ha! Barbecue next Saturday at my house, Denis!

• FRANK CASSANO

• STOP THE MOTHERFUCKING PRESSES! SARAH MIRK FOUND HERSELF A SCOOP! "McDonald's is a good place to find politically apathetic people." Imbecile.

• Marjorie Skinner dove deep into the world of jewelry made from cat hair. Blogtown: where depressing cat ladies go to die alone.

• Still confused about the difference between "blogging" with "creating annoying polls," Wm. Steven Humphrey attempted to make some jokes about the world coming to an end.

• Denis C. Theriault somehow managed to be boring even when writing about a stripper.

• To the surprise of no one, Tony "Hic!" Perez advocated drinking in public.

• Ned Lannamann introduced Blogtown's unfortunate readers to one more band they won't remember in three weeks.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff proudly announced his dumb little music blog is teaming up with PBR to sponsor a "'70s night at Mississippi Studios." If some cretin were ever to set out to create a parody of an obnoxious hipster newspaper in Portland, Oregon, I would encourage them not to waste their time doing what has already been done.

• Alison Hallett posted another author interview that no one bothered to read. Authors: Stop wasting your time.

• The spineless pussy Erik Henriksen made some passive-aggressive whimperings in the general direction of KOIN 6's Ken Boddie. Meanwhile, I emailed some aggressive photographs of myself to KGW's Stephanie Stricklen.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Marjorie Skinner, having accidentally posted something moderately amusing, quickly compensated by uploading an endless series of photographs showing people dressed like idiots.

• Using all of his meager brain power, office alcoholic Ezra "Ace" Caraeff invented a half-assed drinking game. In related news, no amount of booze could ever, nor will ever, drown the self-loathing that causes Mr. Caraeff to begin and end each of his pathetic days with a sobbing fit.

• Rather than actually improving his sad excuse for a newspaper, Wm. Steven Humphrey giddily joined Mr. Caraeff's shenanigans, wasting an entire afternoon by blogging his consumption of a single bottle of Colt 45's malt liquor Blast. Yes, you read that correctly: A single bottle. NUT UP, YOU INEPT PANSY.

• Doing his best to suck any and all interest out of a formerly interesting news story, Denis C. Theriault refused to shut up about the study that showed a lot of Portland landlords are racists.

• That sap Sarah Mirk got annoyingly sentimental about the Mercury's old neighborhood. Here's a news tip, Ms. Mirk: Your old neighbors are throwing a party tonight to celebrate your absence. Guess who isn't invited?

• Impoverished weekly newspaper music writer Ned Lannamann informed multimillionaire Dan Aykroyd he's "bad at business." Mr. Aykroyd has saved New York City from supernatural terrorists not once but twice, Mr. Lannamann; you, on the other hand, have never done jack shit for anyone, ever. Shut the fuck up.

• Despite the threat of wedgies and swirlies, Erik Henriksen still refuses to talk about anything that is not related to Game of Thrones. This week he masturbated to the show's opening credits; next week, expect a detailed report on what he discovered in the show's caterers' garbage.

• Two of the Mercury's most grating young fillies, Courtney Ferguson and Alison Hallett, couldn't be bothered to dredge up a single worthwhile post between them. Do the new Mercury offices have a shed? Ms. Ferguson and Ms. Hallett should be lured behind it with sugar cubes and then they should be shot.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• The painfully out-of-touch Marjorie Skinner blithely equated ugly shoes with terrorism. Congratulations, Ms. Skinner! Your consistent efforts to take the "news" out of "newspaper" are finally paying off.

• As a rule, I do not actually read anything "written" by Ezra "Ace" Caraeff. This week, however, I understand he told an anecdote about being "aggressively fingered against the back wall at a Papa Roach concert." Sounds about right.

• When he and Sarah Mirk weren't drooling over an inane tax hike, Denis C. Theriault got the breaking news scoop that Police Chief Mike Reese is considering changing the name of his rock band. Here's another scoop, Mr. Theriault: Until Mr. Reese begins covering the classic hits of one Mr. J. Geils, nobody gives a fuck.

• Like a petulant toddler, Wm. Steven Humphrey threw a tantrum because a food cart wasn't open at the precise moment he was hungry. Food cart owners of Portland, please begin spitting into Mr. Humphrey's food even more than usual.

• Courtney Ferguson is the only person on the planet paying attention to Andy Dick. Stop it, Ms. Ferguson. As is the case with so much that you do, it is simultaneously depressing and angering.

• Ned Lannamann: USELESS.

• And now for a sentence so precious it makes me want to vomit: Alison Hallett went to the Ace Hotel to interview Miranda July.

• Oblivious virgin Erik Henriksen blathered on about how he doesn't think pretty girls are lying to him when they condescendingly tell him they like Batteship Galaxystar as much as he does. ATTN. MR. HENRIKSEN: GROW UP. VERONICA MARS IS NEVER GOING TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU.

• Sarah Mirk broke the news that Springfield, Oregon, is crammed full of strip clubs—an accolade which apparently drove some of Springfield's more prudish residents to tears. Loosen the fuck up, Springfield. Make it rain.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Noted anti-Semite Alison Hallett inspired an insipid comment thread in which Blogtown's navel-gazers giddily engaged in a simpering hand-wringing contest.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff ceased whimpering about his incompetent Trail Blazers for just long enough to point out that the music venue Berbati's has returned. ATTN. BERBATI'S BOOKERS: You know what to do.

• NewsRadio superfan Courtney Ferguson worried that "comedian" Andy Dick was missing somewhere in Portland. Not even Andy Dick cares where he is, you dolt.

• In a "news" story that read like a particularly painful Portlandia skit, Denis C. Theriault reported that Portland city employees are fatties, despite an initiative involving Zumba classes.

• Speaking of Mr. Theriault, he lost on Jeopardy! this week, humiliating and disappointing his family, his employer, and his adopted city. Yet, bewilderingly: The inept Wm. Steven Humphrey refused to fire him. Hot tip, Mr. Theriault: Perhaps next time you appear on an internationally renowned television program that relies heavily on historical trivia, you should study some fucking historical trivia instead of blabbering on about whatever the shit a Zumba is.

• The cretinous Ned Lannamann called your father a hipster or something. That reminds me: I highly recommend the Firefox plug-in that automatically scrolls past anything containing Mr. Lannamann's byline.

• Somehow lowering the Mercury's standards to subterranean levels, Erik Henriksen accused a fictional comic book character of being a pedophile.

• Marjorie Skinner was even more useless than usual this week; while I shall not complain about her blessed silence, I can only hope it is due to her preparations for her upcoming appearance on Let's Make a Deal.

POST-SCRIPT: In regards to local media personalities who don't make you want to shove rusty bits of barbed wire into your ear canals, Steph Stricklen, the loveliest lady in Portland, revealed on her scintillatingly saucy Twitter feed that she will be anchoring a newscast beginning in September... and will continue hosting the delightful program Live @ 7 to boot! Please join me in congratulating Portland's favorite news vixen on her much-deserved success. Ms. Stricklen, I look forward to purchasing you a fine steak dinner, over which you and I shall discuss this exciting news... amongst other things.

• FRANK CASSANO

• Once again demonstrating her ability to annoy the living shit out of anyone, regardless of their idiot beliefs, Sarah Mirk invited herself to a pro-life conference. In related news: Ms. Mirk, along with the entire staff of the Mercury, is an excellent advertisement for Planned Parenthood's services.

• Like a prim schoolmarm, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff scolded the Trail Blazers' Brandon Roy for being "passive aggressive." At the Mercury, pouty whimpering is apparently considered "sports coverage."

• Marjorie Skinner lazily copied and pasted something having to do with dreadlocks. For a number of obvious reasons, I did not read this post.

• Finally shutting the fuck up about Portland's irrelevant political scene, Denis C. Theriault decided to waste everyone's time in a different manner—this week, he fawned over a missing puppy. (Confidential to Mr. Theriault: Everyone knows you stole it, ass. Abducting an animal and forcing it to spend time with you is the closest one such as yourself will ever get to experiencing love.)

• Erik Henriksen spent an entire day drawing tears on the faces of celebrities. His continued employment in this economic climate is an insult to everyone.

• Alison Hallett got her panties in a bunch about the Mercury's lack of coverage of comediennes at the Bridgetown Heckling Festival. Alas, L'il Ms. Bra-Burner failed to note one important fact: Nothing with a vagina has ever intentionally made a joke worth laughing at.

• Speaking of unfunny broads: Courtney Ferguson.

• After Ned Lannamann utilized all of his journalistic acumen to accuse Wayne Brady of shitting himself, professional tweester Colin Meloy twatted about it.

I... but... you... but—no. WHAT?!

I hereby take back everything I said about the Mercury's shitbrained employees this week, and redirect my fury and vitriol at a new, and even more deserving, target. ATTN. MR. MELOY: You, sir, are a fucking imbecile.

• FRANK CASSANO

• Marjorie Skinner proudly announced that the Mercury fashion show has devolved into a parade of former reality TV stars. Perhaps next year Ms. Skinner will manage to get The Celebrity Apprentice's Gary Busey to attend; until then, the correct reaction to this "news" is YAWN.

• Professional dullards Wm. Steven Humphrey and Erik Henriksen have reached the point of masturbatory narcissism where they believe even their childish trips to convenience stores are worth writing about. Hot tip, shitbrains: They aren't. Shitbrains.

• Ned Lannamann somehow vomited out 123,402 words about Treme, yet another intelligent television program that you haven't watched, most likely because your mental capacities are severely taxed by the likes of The Celebrity Apprentice.

• Regrettably, it appears Ezra "Ace" Caraeff's welcome silence over the past week or two was not because he was dead. Still laboring under the moronic belief that anyone over the age of 14 gives half a shit-squirt about popular music, he posted a maudlin music video, no doubt whimpering pathetically as he did so.

• Surprise, surprise! Sarah Mirk still refuses to shut the fuck up about bicycles. I will only say this one more time: GROW UP, BABY. PURCHASE AN AUTOMOBILE.

• Alison Hallett tricked a bunch of nerds, geeks, dweeboids, and furries into posting recipes for what they drink every night before crying themselves to sleep in their mothers' basements.

• Courtney Ferguson asked, "How Much Does Blogtown Drink?" The answer: Blogtown readers don't drink nearly as much as one would expect, especially considering their slack-jawed tolerance for this sort of dreck.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Curious about the state of the newspaper industry? Witness Wm. Steven Humphrey humiliatingly begging for you to attend the Mercury's crappy yard sale. (One thing that won't be for sale? This rose, given to me by the sensually intoxicating Steph Stricklen.)

• Displaying a degree of retard-thusiasm she usually reserves only for cats, Alison Hallett lost her shit about Twilight or something.

• Ned Lannamann offered readers "tips on how to masticate." Note to Mr. Lannamann: Not all of us are as inept at day-to-day activities as you, cretin.

• A barely literate Mercury reader—is there any other kind?—called Courtney Ferguson "Fartley," "Twatley," "Cuntney," "a classless dimwit," a "little wimp," and a "loser." He then encouraged her to "try and pull the cube of butter out of your face and fat ass." I like the cut of this fellow's jib.

• Reporting, as ever, from the cutting edge of culinary news, Tony Perez mumbled something about a soda from the '90s. I fell asleep four words into this post. Keep up the good work, Mr. Perez.

• Judging by his lack of contributions to Blogtown, it appears the suspiciously well-worn brake line of Ezra "Ace" Caraeff's 1986 Chevette has finally, and oh-so-mysteriously, snapped.

• Erik Henriksen took a break from his frantic masturbations about Game of Thrones to report on... something about hobbits. Mr. Henriksen: You are a depressing infant.

• Marjorie Skinner posted pictures of imbeciles at a shoeless fashion show; predictably enough, they were dressed like shoeless imbeciles. "Luckily the no-shoes policy prevented any pain as we stepped all over each other, though sentiment is torn on the models without shoes thing," Ms. Skinner mused. "I personally find it refreshing and unique." I personally would like to see Ms. Skinner walk barefoot across a floor full of rusty barbed wire.

• Sarah Mirk took a tour of the "Hobo Bellagio." I hope you took more pictures and notes than this flimsy write-up would imply, Ms. Mirk, as it is a far nicer place than any you shall ever reside in.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Alison Hallett interviewed some whiny ballerinas and ballerinos who—when they aren't adjusting their dance belts—are attempting to replace the Mercury as Portland's least-relevant publication. Good luck, asshats!

• Impressively, Marjorie Skinner found something even more annoying than a rag devoted to the cha-cha-cha: A list of the designers who will hawk their preposterous wares at the Mercury's upcoming fashion show. I look forward to heckling all of them.

• In even more bullshit fashion news—JESUS SHITTING CHRIST, WILL IT EVER END?—man-child Wm. Steven Humphrey analyzed Wonder Woman's new costume, noting "her bustier is 37 percent more nip-slippy." I do not care, as I will not be watching Wonder Woman; as my collection of rare adult entertainments proves, I only watch women act when rates of nip-slippage are at 100 percent.

• Apparently eager to speed the death of print journalism, Ned Lannamann—who, the non-retarded among us might recall, is employed by a newspaper—taught his two readers how to steal the New York Times.

• Forced to drink something other than his usual strawberry daiquiri Bartles & Jaymes, Erik Henriksen passed out on the Mercury's urine-soaked couch. It was the highlight of his week.

• Sarah Mirk mistakenly decided it was newsworthy that some idiot wore an idiotic hat.

• Denis C. Theriault reported that Randy Leonard had a bad day. It's nice to see Theriault's "writing" is being influenced by his current reading material.

• Surprise, surprise! Neither Ezra "Ace" Caraeff nor Courtney Ferguson did anything even remotely interesting. Their continued inept laziness is bounds for termination.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

Imbeciles, you return to this blog, day after day, inexplicably eager to read its half-assed content—but somehow, you have yet to learn that excrement is a thing to be avoided. One day you too shall be dealt with.

• It was a banner week for the obnoxious Sarah Mirk, who supplemented her usual whining—this time, it was about how inconvenient it is that her Safeway's being remodeled, WAAAAAAHHHH—with a video of local children "rapping." This video is an excellent advertisement for birth control.

• Proving that she has entirely too much time on her hands—and thus might be a prime candidate for downsizing—Alison Hallett loudly bragged to no one in particular that she had made some disgusting-sounding cookies.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey was on vacation, no doubt frolicking about Portland in one of his many mesh t-shirts. PARENTS, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE?

• In yet another shameless attempt to exploit the Mercury's long-suffering readers, Marjorie Skinner announced an upcoming Mercury yard sale. Readers, consider the offal the Mercury jackasses foist upon you for free; shudder as you imagine what they might try to sell you.

• Just what Portland needs: Another fucking McMenamins, and more fucking "indie rock." Ned Lannamann is a cretin, and thus undeserving of even the smallest dollop of respect, but I will grudgingly admit that I'm impressed he wrote the following phrase without even a hint of sarcasm: "Corin Tucker, David Bazan, and the Built to Spill's Doug Martsch? Sign us up."

• As per usual, neither Ezra "Ace" Caraeff nor Courtney Ferguson did a single thing worth mentioning.

• As lazily inept as ever, Erik Henriksen cut-and-pasted a press release, a previously written film review, and an embedded YouTube to report the urgent news that Portland's village idiot, Daniel "The Fat One" Baldwin, has started referring to himself as "Double D."

• Laura Hudson, whoever the fuck that is, drunkenly interviewed a drunk KJ, then mistakenly thought anyone would give two shit squirts about the resultant gibberish. If this post were a Swiftian satire of Portland hipsters, it could be excused. It is not.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Ned Lannamann was forced to write about a band people have actually heard of. Naturally, he found the experience excruciating.

• Tony Perez advocated the drowning of kittens.

• Sarah Mirk's streak of hard-hitting exposés continued with a whimpering complaint about how she is too poor to buy pizza. HA!

• Producing Mercury content in his usual manner, Wm. Steven Humphrey blogged while taking a shit.

• Inspired, perhaps, by her boss' toilet-related mumblings, Courtney Ferguson explained in great detail how filthy the Mercury bathroom is. Hey, Courtney: Do something worthwhile for once.

• Steph Stricklen was beautiful.

• In an excellent example of the sort of decision that put journalism in the proud position it is today, it was revealed that Mercury pays for Ezra "Ace" Caraeff to go get drunk at SXSW.

• Erik Henriksen droned on about comics. This post is the electronic equivalent of someone writing "kick me" on a piece of notebook paper and then taping it to their own back.

• Marjorie Skinner and Alison Hallett spent the week in their depressing little rented domiciles, forcing their cats to spend time with them.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Wm. Steven Humphrey asked, "Whose Desk Drawer Would You Like to Snoop Inside?", then revealed what was in Alison Hallett's desk. Like the Mercury, its contents were underwhelming and inane.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff got his American Apparel panties in a bunch over the fact that Portland's respectable, tax-paying, non-druggie citizens do not, as a rule, like retarded teenagers or the retarded things they do.

• Tony Perez proved, yet again, that the experience of reading a thread in which Blogtown's commenters attempt to be funny is akin to witnessing a clumsy circlejerk at a low-rent comedy club's open-mic night.

• Ned Lannamann somehow wasted over 1,500 words on an interview with the director of Menomena's latest boring video. Meanwhile, Lannamann continues to refuse to write even a single sentence about my ambitious, insightful, and unspeakably erotic series of VHS cassettes, "Night-Vision Footage of Steph Stricklen's House (1996-2008)."

• Remember that nauseating eyesore of a pizza place you never ate at? It's closed! Sarah Mirk mistakenly thought you would give a fuck.

• Daringly answering a question no one asked, Denis C. Theriault wrote, "Yes, Even the Mayor Has to Sit Through Jury Duty." Proving his keen journalistic instincts have no equal, Theriault then posted a photograph. Of the mayor. Sitting on a bench. Waiting for jury duty. Pointedly ignoring the insufferable shithead with the camera.

• Rather than improve their half-assed "arts" and "film" sections, Alison Hallett and Erik Henriksen decided to wring their hands about the issue of internet anonymity. Shortly thereafter, the shit-smeared code monkeys who (poorly) run Blogtown turned on the previously disabled "allow anonymous dipshits to comment" feature—meaning Blogtown's comment threads will now boast even more insufferable cretins. Websites get the commenters they deserve; the Mercury's commenters are fuckwads.

• Well, well, well! I wonder what Marjorie Skinner was up to this week! No doubt prattling on about lady-topics like lace handkerchiefs, high-heeled shoes, periods, or... no! I spoke too soon! Predictably oblivious to the fact that she has become a Portlandia-worthy parody of herself, she whined incessantly about tofu scrambles.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Amateur reporters Sarah Mirk and Denis C. Theriault combined their negligible skills for a two-part investigation about some boob who smeared dogshit on a bus driver's seat, then got caught. In related news, the Mercury—once a tabloid that's only useful function was in picking up dogshit—has, at long last, evolved into a tabloid that proudly reports on dogshit.

• In yet another post bereft of discernible purpose, Tony Perez aimlessly rambled about hot sauce. Predictably, Blogtown's air-headed commenters giddily leapt into the non-conversation, successfully wasting a few more moments of their lonely lives.

• Proving unexpectedly observant, Alison Hallett pointed out that—despite having 11 fucking years of practice—the jagoffs at the Mercury are still utterly incapable of publishing a newspaper.

• Speaking, as usual, to no one in particular, Marjorie Skinner asked, "Now that we must sadly say goodbye to Winn Perry, it begs the question: Where are the best remaining places to find good quality men's shoes?" My oh my! What a fascinating query, Ms. Skinner! Perhaps you'd be interested in learning that no one gives a shit.

• In the only worthwhile thing he's ever done, Ned Lannamann accidentally started a movement to get Paul Giamatti cast in the next Star Trek movie. Congratulations, dorkwad! Your next assignment: Talk to a something that has a vagina.

• In a largely successful attempt to bore away his six remaining readers, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff posted some video of some TV show about some Portland bands. No one watched it. A few days later—in an unsuccessful attempt to exploit his two remaining readers—Caraeff demanded they buy him a boat. They did not. This imbecile does not deserve a boat.

• In more news of interest to dorkwads, Erik Henriksen proclaimed he's moderating a panel at a nerd convention this weekend. I hereby promise $50 to the first Seattle resident to send me photographic evidence of Henriksen receiving a swirlie.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey wished a happy birthday to his beloved Justin Bieber, humiliatingly referring to the 17-year-old as "Beebs," "Lil' Beebs," and "Der Beeble." ATTN. PORTLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT: PLEASE RETURN MY CALLS REGARDING WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY, PAEDOPHILE-AT-LARGE.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• The directionless Sarah Mirk pathetically begged Blogtown's halfwit peanut gallery for advice on what to do with Mayor Sam Adams' tie. Sadly, she ignored my personal recommendation, which involved a ceiling fan and an easily kickable chair.

• Having exhausted topics related to Portland's amateurish "arts" scene, Alison Hallett aimlessly prattled on about where she spends her meager Mercury paycheck—inspiring Blogtown's commenters to do the same, thus creating an incredibly boring ouroboros of self-congratulatory consumerist back-patting. (FYI, shitlips: I drop bills at one place and one place only. Magic motherfucking Gardens.)

• Wm. Steven Humphrey, taking a break from his NAMBLA-approved love notes to Justin Bieber, continued his beating of another dead horse, Portlandia, whining "This makes my head hurt." NEWS BREAK, IDIOT: Carrie Brownstein's flailing attempts at "comedy" make everyone's head hurt. Your rehashing of them is only adding to the city-wide migraine.

• Charlie Swanson (whoever the fuck that is) rambled about the cover art to a 20-year-old rock 'n' roll album. Yet again, the Mercury's music coverage proves to be roughly as relevant and forward-thinking as the music industry.

• Marjorie Skinner did nothing worthwhile.

• Dweeb Erik Henriksen droned on about some dweeb book being turned into some dweeb movie. Number of comments and/or interested readers? ZERO.

• At long last, someone pointed out that portions of Blogtown aren't even from Blogtown at all, but rather half-assed reruns from the Mercury's marginally less insipid sister blog, Slog. Were you surprised by this latest evidence of the Mercury staff's inept laziness? Then congratulations, fucknuts! You're as lazy and inept as they are!

• His journalistic instincts as painfully dull as ever, Ned Lannamann labored under the delusion that anyone would give even the tiniest of a shit squirt about the packaging his cheese came in. And they wonder why Slog doesn't ever steal Blogtown's content.

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Wm. Steven Humphrey valiantly struggled to maintain his Bieber boner after discovering his beloved doesn't like abortion. This could put a damper on the Mercury's proposed "Abortion Tuesday," in which Blogtown readers would be able to vote on which Mercury staffer has to have an abortion each week.

• Speaking of drooling idiots who should never be parents, Sarah Mirk selfishly demanded that I continue to pay for her birth control. (I will... but only because the last thing the world needs is another Sarah Mirk.)

• On End Hits, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff took off his little headphones, put on his big-boy pants, and asked why the Crystal Ballroom sells out its shows before their box office opens. The shocking answer: PEOPLE BUY TICKETS ON THE INTERNET. God you people are stupid.

• The ever-grating Ned Lannamann whined about his lack of snack options at movie theaters. "There's got to be something better than popcorn," he whimpered—proving himself, yet again, to be the most punchable member of the Mercury's eminently punchable staff.

• Professional foodie Tony Perez posted the latest in his pioneering series, "Why Foodies Will be First Against the Wall When the Revolution Comes."

• Courtney Ferguson asked readers to pick their roller derby names, which proved to be a delightful diversion for several feeble-minded morons who have yet to realize it is no longer 2003.

• On MOD, Marjorie Skinner rambled incessantly about PhotoShop. Let us hope that next week she'll deign to share her insights about Microsoft Excel—and that the week after that, her blog will be put out of its misery.

• Demonstrating how easily he's entertained by flashing lights, Erik Henriksen stumbled through the remodeled Ground Kontrol. It was but yet another pathetic detour on his too-long journey to a lonesome, lonely death.

• Dave Bow tearfully confessed that he no longer watches Glee. Congrats, fucknuts! No one gives two shits!

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

• FRANK CASSANO

• Wm. Steven Humphrey FINALLY realized that Portlandia is "really, really, really, REALLY bad." You heard it here last!

• In a rare display of something vaguely resembling journalism, Sarah Mirk broke the story that Powell's fired a bunch of people. Mirk will, no doubt, follow up this important story with some inane bullshit about bicycles.

• In a failed attempt to justify his meager salary, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff bravely asked, "How Many Male Drummers Stand While Playing?" Please note that this question is a total waste of time unless you are a fucking imbecile.

• Bespectacled dweeb Erik Henriksen attempted to get anyone to give two shits about the Portland International Film Festival. Unsurprisingly, Blogtown's half-literate philistines proved to be far more interested in yet another homoerotic children's film.

• The internet correctly pointed out that Courtney Ferguson is, in fact, a racist.

• The internet correctly pointed out that Alison Hallett is, in fact, an anti-Semite.

• Tony Perez "reported" on the the Oregon Public House, "the country's first pub operating as a non-profit." Nice work, Portland fuckwits! You've even found a way to make drinking annoying and self-satisfied!

• Ned Lannamann did nothing worthwhile.

• As I refuse to waste the electricity it would take to visit MOD, I have no idea—and even less interest—in whatever it was that Marjorie Skinner busied herself with this week.

• Last and certainly least, the gleefully pedophillic Wm. Steven Humphrey pathetically "celebrated" his 100th "Bieber Fever" blog post—only to have someone with a first-grader's grasp of mathematics point out that it wasn't even his 100th blog post. The Mercury's proud tradition of incompetence continues.

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