Imbecile Parade: Blogtown, PDX, Portland Mercury

The Controversy That Wasn't, The Apology That Was, and the Word "Satire."

Bobby Roberts — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 19:57:28 -0800

And so ends Nerds vs. Sexism Part 57, With a Twist.

In a statement posted to his facebook page as response to outreach from GLAAD, Guardians of the Galaxy director James Gunn apologized for his almost two year-old blogpost entitled The Top 50 Superheroes You'd Most Like to Have Sex With like so:

A couple of years ago I wrote a blog that was meant to be satirical and funny. In rereading it over the past day I don't think it's funny. The attempted humor in the blog does not represent my actual feelings. However, I can see where statements were poorly worded and offensive to many. I'm sorry and regret making them at all.

This will probably be the end of this 24 hours of nerdly uproar. The petition calling for his removal will likely stall out at half the necessary 10,000 "signatures" needed to be submitted directly to Marvel's I Don't Give a Fuck About Internet Petitions folder.

So let's hit the scoreboard!

Will the vitriol be as vitriolic, or will people ease off the gas pedal?
They eased off the gas pedal, with articles from sites like HitFix and Badass Digest making the case that while the article in question wasn't very funny, it's hard to argue that it wasn't meant to be funny, and was in no way a straight-faced, clear look into the everyday mindset of James Gunn.

Will Gunn publicly apologize, point out that he was just trying to be funny, attempt to prove he's not really homophobic; or will he shut up and just wait for everything to blow over?
He did both. He stayed quiet for 24 hours, and when he saw the answer to the below question, he stepped out into public view and made sure to let everyone know he thought his jokes sucked just like they did, and he's really not homophobic, and he's sorry.

Will some geeks be willing to go easier on Gunn because of his connections and his filmography? Will they attempt to provide context that could somehow mitigate this post?
That's exactly what happened, and in the case of Devin Faraci's Badass Digest piece linked above, he acknowledges that, for some, it could look like good old boys circling the wagon around one of their friends. But the context provided (his filmography, his twitter/facebook) does help prove that this two year-old post about fucking imaginary people in spandex was intended to be taken as a joke piece.

It's that last point that keeps gnawing at me though: When the half of the internet that's sticking up for you keeps misusing the word "satire" to defend your post, I understand why you'd run with that. It's viable at that point. But it feels like 75% of the people involved with this debate don't actually understand how satire works. Hell, maybe Gunn doesn't either, although I'd previously given him credit for that much.

But there's no satire in that piece. It's just basic lowbrow comedy, amplified and sent over the top for comedic effect. It's not a comment on how stupid comic book fans are for thinking/acting that way, nor is it a condemnation or a rebuke of people who have those conversations. It's just indulging base comedy instincts and swinging for the cheap seats. He's indulged that level of comedy before, he'll likely do it again - although way more carefully, I'm sure.

Amazingly, the thing that will likely annoy me most about this whole brouhaha is the widespread acceptance, on behalf of a lot of people who should know better, that Gunn's piece is what satire looks like. I don't like the idea that you can go on a tear of really shitty, stupid jokes, and if people get mad, you can tell people it was just misfired satire and that they either a) didn't get it, or b) you're sorry you didn't do it right, and everything is forgiven.

Anyway, James Gunn is sorry, the internet has deemed this a non-issue, and we can all get back to waiting for someone to release a trailer for something.

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Nerds vs. Sexism, Part 57, With a Twist

Bobby Roberts — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 11:14:01 -0800

In the 2000s, Geek Culture became self-aware. It rose up, seized pop-culture power, and asserted itself. Things were good.

In the 2010s, Geek Culture has started getting itchy, antsy, and annoyed with itself. There's a bunch of self-appointed gatekeepers putting up fences nobody asked them to build, in an attempt to keep "intruders" and "interlopers" away from an increasingly-precious subculture whose main criteria for admittance appears to be "I buy a lot of merchandising for some media conglomerate's mass-produced entertainment product." It's not the most weighty of self-identifications, nor, really, should it be.

However, one of the more prominently built fences seems to be built out of almost pure sexism, and a lot of women have been making a lot of noise about that recently. It gets noisy when you're swinging sledgehammers of righteousness at insipid claims that you can't possibly like video games because you have ovaries, or you can't possibly enjoy comic books because you don't know what issue the Joker debuted or some such.

Usually, such stories are pretty cut and dried: Sexist asshole is sexist, and people rubbernecking at the social wreckage should, hopefully, make a note of the ugly example being made of those holding archaic, caveman-esque beliefs on gender-equality, and stop being troglodytes.

Today's big controversy comes with a twist: What happens when the troglodyte in question is a well-liked, well-respected nerd with connections, powerful friends, and the keys to a Marvel movie?

James Gunn has a nice resume full of all sorts of geek-cred: He came up through the ranks of Troma, he got the nod to write the remake of revered geek classic Dawn of the Dead and managed to not screw it up, wrote/directed a cult horror triumph with Slither, cracked up the internet in the mid 2000s with a webseries called PG Porn, cast Rainn Wilson as a mentally-imbalanced superhero in the well-reviewed Super, and has been hired to direct Marvel's next big group adventure, Guardians of the Galaxy. His friends include Nathan Fillion and Joss Whedon, who personally vouched for the guy when he was given the Galaxy job.

A post of his from 2011 has been unearthed recently, and that post is basically, some shock jock bullshit. If you heard anyone read this post out loud, you would expect the person reading to interrupt his discourse with a fusillade of fart noises and air horns before throwing to a Def Leppard song on your morning drive. The post is entitled The 50 Superheroes You'd Most Like to Have Sex With and features entries such as:

5. Gambit

My girlfriend voted for this Cajun fruit. I think she’s looking to have a devil’s three way with the two of us. The idea of my balls slapping against Gambit’s makes me sick to my stomach, but I can’t deny the fellow’s pure HEAT, as he yet again placed so high on this list, despite being male and in the presence of so many A-listers. Wolverine and Superman may beat him in sales, but it’s who the ladies love that really matters, and Gambit is the Galactus of Cock!

34. Batgirl – Stephanie Brown

Being a teen mom and all, you know she’s easy. Go for it.

32. Batwoman

This lesbian character was voted for almost exclusively by men. I don’t know exactly what that means. But I’m hoping for a Marvel-DC crossover so that Tony Stark can “turn” her. She could also have sex with Nightwing and probably still be technically considered a lesbian.

Actually, after reading, I'd revise my shock jock analogy. This is basically some Kevin Smith shit. If you heard someone reading this out loud, you'd expect to hear a lighter flicking, some coughing, and Scott Mosier giggling uncomfortably in between pauses for breath/weed. Reminder, by the way: Kevin Smith still produces Comic Book Men, one of the worst shows on television, especially when it comes to propagating the stereotype of shitty, emotionally stunted man-children as consumers of comics.

What will be interesting to see, as this story further unfolds, and calls for boycotts and firings rise in volume, is how Geek Culture responds to one of their own, one of the good guys, getting caught engaging in idiocy of this level. When comic book artist Tony Harris got caught on facebook being misogynist as hell, the retribution was swift and merciless - but he's Tony Harris, comic-book artist. His status isn't as elevated as Friend-of-Whedon, pal-of-Mal, Troma-tested, Marvel-Approved James Gunn. Will the vitriol be as vitriolic, or will people ease off the gas pedal? Will Gunn publicly apologize, point out that he was just trying to be funny, attempt to prove he's not really homophobic; or will he shut up and just wait for everything to blow over? Will some geeks be willing to go easier on Gunn because of his connections and his filmography? Will they attempt to provide context that could somehow mitigate this post?

Are nerds for equality in their ranks, but only to the point where it starts to threaten their entertainment choices?

Guardians of the Galaxy, starring a heavily armed talking raccoon and a sentient tree, is scheduled for release in 2014.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown: A Year in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 09:59:00 -0800

As we finally finish our slog through another year's worth of insipid bullshit from the halfwit twat-nozzles at the Portland Mercury, I have been asked by that publication's cocaine-addled editor-in-chief, Wm. Steven Humphrey, to "take a quick look-see through the archives to find the best Blogtown had to offer in 2011!" Mr. Humphrey's masturbatory goal is, no doubt, to remind his slack-jawed "readers" what a valuable resource the Mercury's shitty little blog is; I, however, view his request as a final opportunity to remind you retards how much time you've wasted over the past 12 months—and to urge you, yet again, to do something marginally less depressing with your time in 2012.

So every day this week, I'll be bringing you a pathetically useless Blogtown post from 2011. Should you insist on continuing to visit Blogtown during a week when most people are either on vacation or leading lives worth living, you deserve to be reminded that you are an imbecile for continuing to encourage these syphilis-slathered turds. —Frank Cassano

THE WORST BLOGTOWN POST OF 2011: "Today in Unnecessary and Vaguely Insulting Instructions" (Tuesday February 22, 2011 at 2:13 pm)

This was a post in which Ned Lannamann described, in excruciating detail, how he opened a package of cheese. I do not exaggerate when I note that it is the stupidest goddamn thing on the internet.

Mr. Lannamann's "post" is, essentially, a transcription of a "stand-up comedy bit" he might perform at an establishment going by the name of "Chuckle's Comedy Club." "So how about that packaged cheese, folks, am I right?" Mr. Lannamann would mumble, nervously sweating, his voice cracking with desperation. "Cheese! Am I... am I... right. Folks." The difference between Chuckle's and the internet, however, is that on the internet, is is impossible to throw anything—a tomato, a chair, a cleaver—at Mr. Lannamann in order to shut him up.

Hope you've enjoyed Blogtown this year, dipshits. It's page views like yours that allow Mr. Lannamann to continue writing about opening packages of cheese. All of you are imbeciles, and I wish you nothing but the misery you deserve in 2012.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown: A Year in Review"

Frank Cassano — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 09:59:00 -0800

THE SECOND-WORST BLOGTOWN POST OF 2011: "How to Ride a Bicycle" (Thursday April 14, 2011 at 3:44 pm)

From Sarah Mirk's first days at the Mercury—when her "Sexy Bike" posts immediately turned an entire city against her—she has blathered incessantly about a form of transportation utilized by the likes of eight-year-old girls and the French. Ms. Mirk's wide-eyed fetishization of bicycles, however, plummeted to a nadir in which she sanctimoniously chirped, "I think we could use a quick lesson in basic Portland biking etiquette."

Ms. Mirk: Everything about you infuriates me. I am now going to go for a drive. I will be looking for you.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown: A Year in Review"

Frank Cassano — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 09:59:00 -0800

THE THIRD-WORST BLOGTOWN POST OF 2011: "A Slurpee in Review: Cowboys & Aliens Alienade" (Thursday July 7, 2011 at 9:59 am)

It's time for some pseudoscience, jagoffs! Unlicensed psychologists and shrewish women all-too-frequently squawk about "Peter Pan Syndrome," the belief that some grown men are "unable to grow up and take on adult responsibilities." While legitimate psychiatric organizations refuse to recognize the disorder, the Mercury's Erik Henriksen makes a damning case for its obnoxious existence with every labored sentence he vomits forth. In July, he decided to use no fewer than 511 words, along with a total of 10 different images, to discuss a bullshit drink marketed to water-brained children.

My sources inside the Mercury inform me that Mr. Henriksen is 31 years of age. I genuinely hope he does not live to see 32.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown: A Year in Review"

Frank Cassano — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 09:59:00 -0800

THE FOURTH-WORST BLOGTOWN POST OF 2011: "Today in Cat Documentaries: The Standard of Perfection" (Friday April 1, 2011 at 12:14 pm)

In an office full of limp-wristed, mouth-breathing hipsters, Ms. Hallett has somehow accomplished the notable feat of becoming the most pitiable among them. Doomed to die alone—no doubt while desperately clinging to her loneliness and insisting it is "independence"—Ms. Hallett's oblivious uselessness is never on display more than whenever she refuses to shut the fuck up about her cat, your cat, a rabies-stricken cat she saw on the street this morning, or any cat that has ever existed anywhere. Last April, Ms. Hallett decided it would be a good use of people's time if she demanded they watch a documentary about people like herself.

Ms. Hallett, as 2012 begins, I encourage you to challenge yourself with a resolution: Be less like yourself, and more like anyone else. Also, shut the fuck up about cats.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown: A Year in Review"

Frank Cassano — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 09:59:00 -0800

THE FIFTH-WORST BLOGTOWN POST OF 2011: "THE BIEBER BEAT: Happy Birthday, Beebs!" (Tuesday March 1, 2011 at 4:13 pm)

Wm. Steven Humphrey began his 4,932nd pedophilic blog post about child musician Justin Bieber with the rage-inducing phrase, "Geez! I can't belieb I nearly let the day slip away without saying, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JUSTIN BIEBER! (He turns a nearly legal 17-years-old today.)"

CONFIDENTIAL TO THE PORTLAND POLICE: You have allowed Mr. Humphrey free reign throughout your embarrassing little city for entirely too many years, despite a nauseating amount of evidence that decisively proves he should be behind bars, castrated, or, preferably, both. As 2012 approaches, I demand you stop "hugging it out" with those Occupy Portland street urchins and, instead, take immediate action on an issue that actually matters.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 16:29:00 -0800

Another week, another feces-smeared shit parade of half-assed "content." Keep up the hard work, you diddling imbeciles! Perhaps if you post a few more fashion sale alerts or YouTubes, you'll manage to stay in business for another seven days! I mean, I certainly hope you won't, but perhaps you will.

Let's get this fuckery over with.

• Denis C. Theriault continued to give the reeking street urchins of Occupy undeserved attention. This week, he was giddy when the dreadlocked ruffians stole an idea from a fictional billionaire vigilante who recruits "wards" to his deviant lifestyle.

• As one suspects occurs on a nightly basis, Wm. Steven Humphrey nocturnally ejaculated. He then thought it appropriate to graphically describe the underwhelming dream that inspired his humiliating emissions. Keep waiting for that Pulitzer, Mr. Humphrey.

• Speaking of ejaculation, Tony Perez saw fit to share with his reader that he loves "sitting at Nostrana's pizza bar and watching the cooks throwing and spinning their dough."

• Rather than attending a musical performance, Courtney Ferguson wrote about going to a bar to gawp at advertisements for musical performances. My, Ms. Ferguson! What an exciting life you lead!

• Having run out of Portland "news"—such as dweebs' bat-signals, one would suppose—Alex Zielinski found herself reassigned to the rabbit beat. This demotion seems appropriate, and I will allow it.

• "Frocky Jack Morgan Makes Itself At Home!" trilled Marjorie Skinner. MS. SKINNER. NOBODY HAS ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.

• Sarah Mirk mirked herself into a tizzy when she learned that her boss' cellular telephone will not help him obtain an abortion. I'm shocked to say this, but I found Ms. Mirk's video quite heartening: At least someone in the Mercury offices has morals. Siri, I applaud you, whatever the hell you are.

• The perpetually unloved and unwanted Ned Lannamann asked which foster home he should live in. That is what I assume by his headline, at least; as ever, I did not bother reading his post.

• Like a sow in mud, Alison Hallett continued to wallow in her untreated clinical depression.

• As he has since his mother's failed attempt to get an abortion in Salt Lake City, Utah, in late 1979 (Siri, are you somehow to blame for this?), Erik Henriksen wasted everyone's time with a crackpot theory about meaningless pop culture. No one bothered reading it.

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

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IMPORTANT BLOGTOWN NOTICE: We Will Be Live Blogging the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade

Wm.™ Steven Humphrey — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 13:29:22 -0800

Think there's absolutely no reason to check out Blogtown tomorrow? YOU'RE WRONG AGAIN! Our Thursday Night TV "Recap for Poor People" correspondent Elinor "Joneser" Jones will be live blogging the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, probably in its entirety. Why on earth would she be spending her holiday in such a seemingly wasteful manner? From her email to me:

YAY THANKSGIVING. Now my husband can't tell me to turn down the parade because the showtunes are making his ears bleed. HAHAHAHAHA.

I love people who love to torture others. Which is why I love Joneser. And why I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Who will torture who more? TUNE IN TO BLOGTOWN TOMORROW MORNING AT 9 AM TO FIND OUT!!

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 18:05:11 -0800

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.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 17:09:07 -0700

• After spending years bitching and moaning about other people's novels, Mercury book critic Alison Hallett is attempting to write one of her own! Ms. Hallett: You will fail. Also, in the ludicrously unlikely event you do succeed, you should know that no one over the age of 12 will want to read My So-Called Life But with All of the Characters As Cats.

• What did the Mercury's adorable little news team do before Occupy Portland started annoying the shit out of everyone? Spend their days forlornly masturbating, one supposes. This week, the semi-literate Denis C. Theriault traded in his hand lotion for a djembe in order to join Portland's halfwit malcontents as they aimlessly wandered into the Pearl.

• In her continuing efforts to utterly neuter Portland's already disgustingly feminine "male" population, Marjorie Skinner visited a "huge, wonderfully eclectic shop that's essentially a home store, but geared towards men." Note: The "geared towards men" wares for sale include a framed picture of butterflies and whimsically painted tea cups. Ms. Skinner, you are an imbecile.

• Sarah Mirk managed to shut her bike-hole for just long enough to have a meltdown regarding TriMet's "$16 million budget hole." Your childlike refusal to grow up and buy a car doesn't seem like such a good decision now, does it, Ms. Mirk? Patchouli face.

• Courtney Ferguson encouraged people to grow mold on buildings. Ms. Ferguson apparently enjoys wasting people's time.

• Ned Lannamann mumbled something about Pink Floyd. Why the Mercury employs a 17-year-old high-school drug addict as its music editor is a mystery I never wish to solve.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey used his power as editor-in-chief of a major metropolitan newspaper to post a picture of himself dressed as Hall & Oates. Depressing.

• Erik Henriksen spazzed out about some book for dweebs. Say, Mr. Henriksen, what are your plans this Friday evening? Oh, yes—that's right. Congratulations on the exhilarating life you've built for yourself, shit turd.

• Tony Perez—who is apparently colorblind in addition to being inept—waxed rhapsodic about the new bar owned by former Mercury music editor Ezra "Ace" Caraeff. Conflict of interest? No! Whatever would give you that impression?

• Troutdale's mayor offered Alex Zielinski "a private tour of the city." Apparently, my invitation to give Ms. Zielinski a private tour of my basement rec room is not blog-worthy. Consider your invitation revoked, Ms. Zielinski. Enjoy your time with Mayor Kight.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 13:29:00 -0700

Congratulations, shitlip! No doubt due to some painful chafing, you've managed to pull yourself away from your favorite porno site for five goddamn minutes. God forbid you leave the cold glow of your computer monitor, however, to go outdoors or talk to a live person—which perhaps explains why, like a drooling halfwit, you've have stumbled to Blogtown, yet another site where those providing degrading content are dead-eyed and full of shame. Here are some things to read while you wait out your refractory period, pervert.

• Alison Hallett, who's usually content to be a depressing cat lady, went out on a limb and tried something a bit different—being a depressing dog lady! ATTN. OREGON HUMANE SOCIETY: Allow me to introduce you to Ms. Hallett, another pathetic, unwanted thing for you to put out if its misery.

• Airheaded socialist Alex Zielinski gleefully reported that hippies are now allowed to "counter recruit" alongside military recruiters. I am a strong proponent of this development, as I can only imagine it will lead to fisticuffs. Guess who's winning that fight, you commie queefs.

• Marjorie Skinner wiggled herself into her best "I'm a real reporter!" outfit and wrote an eye-opening exposé about tacos for hipsters. An actual journalist would have inquired if they served actual Mexican food, but, as is readily apparent, Ms. Skinner is not a real journalist.

• Courtney Ferguson asked Blogtown readers a question. Blogtown readers ignored her.

• As usual, Ned Lannamann said nothing worth acknowledging.

• Denis C. Theriault broke the hilarious news that Occupy Portland's twinkling revolutionaries are threatening to move into the Pearl. ATTN. IMBECILES: Residents of the Pearl can afford to hire private security. Like Blackwater. I urge you to move there immediately.

• Erik Henriksen discussed films from three acclaimed, award-winning directors, as well as a cartoon made exclusively for toddlers and drug addicts. Guess which one inspired Blogtown's commenters to shit their pants in delight?

• More proof of how woefully inadequate Blogtown's commenters are: Wm. Steven Humphrey collated some comments regarding Occupy Portland from The Oregonian, FOX, KATU, and KOIN. Now that's how you comment, ding-a-lings.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 17:16:35 -0700

Another week, another half-assed clusterfuck of a blog. Let's get this insipid bullshit over with.

• Once again, Marjorie Skinner posted what appears to be every single moment of a television show made exclusively for trust-funded teenage girls and elderly homosexuals.

• Erik Henriksen wrote an excellent post that reminds us all—once again, and in exacting detail—why he will die alone.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey instigated an inane conversation about a television show made exclusively for acne-slathered virgins. Query, Mr. Humphrey: Does your nitwit editorial staff do anything other than watch terrible television?

• Alex Zielinski continued to give downtown's drug-addled deadbeats undeserved attention, this time asking, "What's up with down twinkles?" Here's an answer for you, Ms. Zielinski: SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH.

• Perpetual shut-in Sarah Mirk wrote about some bars where people who aren't shut-ins go.

• Ned Lannamann posted a Journey video. Let us be clear, Mr. Lannamann: Journey is no Boston. Boston is no J. Geils Band. And until it starts including my articles about J. Geils Band, the Mercury's Music section will remain a fetid piece of shit.

• Alison Hallett sneered her way through a snide little post about someone thinner and more successful than her.

• Denis C. Theriault examined Randy Leonard's reaction to downtown's filthy freeloaders. I did not read this post, as I was distracted by the picture of a clown asking me to "blow" it. No, sir or madam! You blow me! And leave the mask on while you do so.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 17:13:10 -0700

Evening, turds. It was another banner week for Blogtown—which means no one read it, even fewer commenters said anything worthwhile, and the imbeciles tasked with running it shamelessly cut and pasted actual content from other, less depressing places on internet. Congratulations all around, halfwit dicklickers!

• The prudish Sarah Mirk watched eight hours of pornography... and at least two of those hours were courtesy of yours truly. Wink wink, Ms. Mirk.

• Junior Reporter Denis C. Theriault made the horrifying discovery that that the filthy, dreadlocked dipshits of Occupy Portland are attempting to reproduce. Mayor Sam Adams: You have tolerated these feral mouthbreathers for entirely too long. As I have noted in numerous voicemails to your office, I urge you to immediately and thoroughly carpet bomb these naïve hippies' squalid, STD-filled mudhole.

• Or, Mayor Adams, you could do what the perpetually cocaine-addled Wm. Steven Humphrey suggests: Put those filthy, dreadlocked dipshits to work. I remind you that carpet bombing is far more effective.

• Alex Zielinski reported that Portland's suicide rates are on the rise—yet, in an omission typical of her incompetence, she failed to note that "Portlanders being subjected to Alex Zielinski's amateurish reporting" is no doubt one of this trend's contributing factors.

• Marjorie Skinner wrote something inanely adulatory about an embarrassing piece of novelty clothing made for rich people. I'm not even going to bother looking it up.

• Alison Hallett earnestly suggested several "great-sounding" arts events Blogtown readers might enjoy attending this weekend! HAW! Oh, Ms. Hallett! You've made this old man laugh yet again, my dear. You have such a tiny little brain!

• Ned Lannamann posted an advertisement. Keep checking the mail for that Pulitzer, Mr. Lannamann.

• Erik Henriksen gave Portland's virgins a chance to write poetry about hobbits. I have little doubt he painstakingly printed out each of these poems and is currently frantically masturbating upon them.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff was finally fired. GOOD RIDDANCE. If you bartend as well as you write, Mr. Caraeff, your new bar will doubtless fail spectacularly; until that humiliating day, I expect free drinks. It is the least you can do after making me read all of your insipid bullshit. I will take a pint glass of J&B, barkeep—and if you know what's best for you, you will keep them coming.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 15:59:00 -0700

I'm on vacation this week, you imbecile. Oh, no, you might have to find something else to read! Here. This seems relevant to your interests.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 17:47:26 -0700

Earlier this week, the Mercury's imbecilic managers called me into their failing publication's squalid offices. There they asked me to "reevaluate" the way I was running the Mercury's Twitter feed. I listened to their constructive criticism, took several moments to consider it, and then informed the pencil-necked dweebs that they should shut their blowjob holes. Then I set a garbage can on fire and left. After that, they should have been smart enough to take away my blog-posting "privileges," correct?

Shows what you know, fuckwit.

• Her childlike enthusiasm reaching heretofore undiscovered levels of obnoxiousness, bicycle-obsessed Sarah Mirk shat herself in delight when she got to visit a tricycle factory.

• Ned Lannamann whimpered and trembled at the "1 in 3,200" chance he might be brutally obliterated by a burning piece of space debris plummeting out of the sky. Fingers crossed.

• Deciding it's never too early to post bullshitty news about bullshit, Marjorie Skinner "reported" that a pop-up shop opening in December will offer this town's fancy-lads "classic men's products with a modern urban curve." STOP THE PRESSES! STOP THE PRESSES! THERE'S SOME BULLSHIT IN THEM.

• Denis "I'll Take 'Pompous Ass' for 800, Alex" Theriault, having decided to once again grace us with his presence, rambled on about Portland's perennially boring City Hall. I did not read this post.

• Surprising no one, legally retarded simpleton Erik Henriksen revealed that he has no fucking idea how polls work.

• Fearmonger Alex Zielinski attempted to sow the seeds of terror amongst Blogtown's mouth-breathing readers. A noble aim, Ms. Zielinski—if only you weren't so mentally feeble as to forget that there's no way the average Blogtown reader can comprehend a graph. Idiot.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff spent four hours of company time carefully PhotoShopping an image of Marcus Camby in front of a giant leaf of marijuana. The unemployment rate in Portland is currently at 8.9 percent, Mr. Caraeff. Give your job to someone who deserves it.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey gleefully invoked the Holocaust in an inane post he wrote about shit-covered geese. Normally I'd remark that Mr. Humphrey's ostensibly comedic reference to a historical travesty was forced, inappropriate, and intellectually lazy, but come, let us be adults here: We all know the Holocaust never happened.

I will return next week, and not one moment before. (TRY TO STOP ME, DICKLICKERS.) I urge you to do the same.

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 18:04:11 -0700

• Wm. Steven Humphrey squirted his panties when Sam Elliott showed up at the Mercury offices. In related news, I met with Mr. Elliott shortly thereafter at the nearby Magic Gardens; I'll let you slack-jawed cretins decide who showed Sam a better time. And some taint.

• As she has done since time immemorial, Marjorie Skinner expressed rabid, screeching enthusiasm for something utterly, inarguably stupid.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff shared a photo of one of his blow-up sex dolls. Enjoy your evening of "going one-on-one," Mr. Caraeff.

• Like a mewling, pube-less infant, Erik Henriksen whimpered about Legos. SOMEONE TAKE THIS OBNOXIOUS CASTRATO TO MAGIC GARDENS ALREADY. Someone else, I mean. I'm not a fucking babysitter.

• Alison Hallett interviewed a pretentious loudmouth about his excruciating-sounding 24-hour-long monologue. This, according to Ms. Hallett, is "art," and I gave up reading her rambling interview sometime around the 22nd hour of eye-rolling boredom.

• "Look at all that meth!" squealed young Sarah Mirk, astonished that such stuff exists.

• Courtney Ferguson has displeased me for the last time, and will no longer be acknowledged. Ms. Ferguson, you know what you've done. Or, more accurately, haven't done.

• At long last, Ned Lannamann graced us with his review of Scarface! THANK GOD, MR. LANNAMANN. We've all been dying to know what some dipshit ass-drizzle thinks of a film that CAME OUT BEFORE HE WAS EVEN BORN.

• Alex Zielinski reported on some clumsy dickwhistle who fell off a chimney. Congratulations, clumsy dickwhistle! Keep up that level of imbecility and these Blogtown jagoffs will probably offer you a job.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 16:59:17 -0700

Afternoon, dick ticklers. Let's see how the Mercury fuckwits squandered your not-so-precious time this week.

• A "think piece" from Alison Hallett? HA! Good one, you navel-gazing airhead! You will die alone and your cat will eat your body.

• During one of his many lonely walks, Wm. Steven Humphrey saw some hobos fucking. Sticken and aroused by the novelty of such an exquisitely erotic sight, he crafted another inspid poll. Next time post some pictures, you selfish jagoff.

• Consider this, half-literate "readers" of Blogtown: We live in an age in which a heavyset white gentleman with tasteful facial hair can be fired merely for giving some doddering old hippies a piece of his mind. Alex Zielinski reported on this grave injustice.

• Sarah Mirk nearly broke her pea-sized brain trying to figure out what "art" is. Turns out Ms. Mirk is actually a 13-year-old girl writing an essay for her honors art history class! Pfft. Don't act like you're surprised.

• Ned Lannamann mumbled on and on about something called a "Mott the Hoople." Are you fucking kidding me, Mr. Lannamann? You must be fucking kidding me. Please tell me you're fucking kidding me. Then go read some more Dr. Seuss, you developmentally disabled cretin. (Perhaps this is a bit more clear, Mr. Lannamann: Oobie doople doople, retard.)

• In her endlessly annoying quest for the least-relevant news of the century, Marjorie Skinner wrote something about dweeb shoes.

• Continuing his recent trend, Ezra "Ace" Caraeff did little else but toot his own horn (a colloquialism which I use here in both its self-promotional and masturbatory meanings). This week, he repeatedly bragged about a guide he'd written for another local weekly's music festival. Kudos, Team Mercury! God forbid you actually put on a music festival of your own, you lazy fatasses.

• Rarely do any of you dipshit commenters actually contribute anything worthwhile—to Blogtown, to society, to anything—but this week, one of you witless turds actually said something legitimate: Erik Henriksen is a pussy.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 17:54:36 -0700

Evening, shit turds. I won't keep you long, as I imagine you're eager to get a jump on your exciting Labor Day weekend plans—which are no doubt jam-packed with hours of you, alone, sitting on your fat ass and reading the goddamn internet.

• After a too-brief absence, Wm. Steven Humphrey returned—which, naturally, meant more bullshit polls. And just to make sure they were extra infuriating and not worth anyone's time, these were about Portlandia. It sure is great to have you back, you imbecile.

• Marjorie Skinner's interminable "Project Runway Wrap-Up!" not only contained clips of every fucking scene of the entire fucking episode but also included Ms. Skinner's nuanced commentary: "wow, he has a wicked side," "Oh jeez," "Of this I feel neutrally," "Oh, the drama. But first: OMG, WTF," and "I am not a fan of Joshua's management style." Fun fact: This is the single shittiest, most useless post that has ever appeared on Blogtown, and Blogtown is nothing but uselessly shitty posts.

• As he as since age the age of four, Erik Henriksen continued his incessant whimpering about his precious Star Wars. What will it take for you to stop prattling on about these glorified toy commercials, Mr. Henriksen? Perhaps George Lucas brutally skullfucking your eye socket shortly before curbstomping your acne-slathered face? (Should Mr. Lucas be unavailable, I hereby offer my services.)

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff loudly congratulated himself for trouncing some pencil-necked fancy lads at a girls' sport. And yes—this is exactly what he patted himself on the back for last week. Mr. Caraeff, should you continue to live a tedious, meaningless, and soul-crushingly repetitive personal life, I ask only that the next time you consider sharing its stultifying details, you instead shut your goddamn face hole.

• "The big news of the week is that someone finally finished crunching the numbers on 2010 census data and mapped where all the same-sex couples in the United States live!" squealed Sarah Mirk. Indeed, that's huge news, Ms. Mirk! Congratulations on your scoop! Oh, don't mind me, sweetheart. I'm just making a jerk-off gesture with one hand while flipping you off with the other, you exciteable halfwit.

• What do you call a bunch of insecure, attention-starved outcasts who crave human contact so desperately they'll publicly humiliate themselves in order to get it? Stand-up comics! HAW! (Surprising no one, Alison Hallett fits right in.)

• Under the mistaken belief that Portland needs even more filthy "street children" harassing upstanding citizens, Ned Lannamann attempted (and, of course, miserably failed) to maintain his dignity while busking. Should I see you on the street with a guitar again, Mr. Lannamann, I shall extend to you the same offer I made Mr. Henriksen. You will not have a choice in the matter.

• Alex Zielinski babbled on about some sanctimonious douchetwats who are terrified of "the major agribusiness influence on government subsidies." Excellent cause du jour, yuppie larva! Also, if my cost-per-Twinkie goes up even a nickel? I know where you live. It's with your parents.

• Courtney Ferguson—once an obnoxiously enthusiastic wannabe blogger—has finally given up. I imagine this post took her 14 seconds to "write," which is roughly 12 seconds longer than I wasted on it.

• Does anyone know where the fuck Denis C. Theriault went? Please note that I don't actually care; I'm just wondering if he's dead.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 10:44:00 -0700

"Waaah, waaaah, WAAAAH. Why wasn't there a 'Frank Cassano's Blogtown in Review' last week? WAAAAAH!" So whined several dozen nauseating emails that were forwarded to me by that ass Wm. Steven Humphrey, who then saw fit to add, "Hi Frank! Might be a good idea to let 'em know you're ok? Yer pal, Steve."

First, shitlip, I'm not your "pal"—no one is. Second, if I want to take an unannounced leave of absence from your insipid little blog in order to carefully observe Steph Stricklen's house from the secluded, darkened confines of an unmarked van, I'll do exactly that. Third—and this also goes for the Blogtown reader who, in my absence, inquired, "What did that fat fuck finaly have a hart attack?"—I remind you: Just because you've purchased, inherited, or (most likely) stolen a magical picture-box that allows you to connect to the world wide web, this does not automatically give you any justification to use the attached keyboard. For proof, let us look no further than this week's waste of photons:

• Sarah Mirk blathered something about hoodlums and spray paint. I cannot tell you any more than that; I stopped reading when Ms. Mirk unironically used the phrase "'street art inspired' pieces for their warehouse gallery."

• Facing a dark, lonely future of no more Harry Potter movies, Alison Hallett began to creepily fixate upon another form of children's entertainment. I suppose she should be congratulated, at least, for finally managing to navigate away from her sad little homepage.

• Who is this "Alex Zielinski" nitwit? His "contributions" to Blogtown consist of boring videos about goats. Fire him immediately.

• Marjorie Skinner's latest oblivious dither contained the phrase "blue wainscoting." Ms. Skinner: That file folder of rejection letters does not lie. Martha Stewart Living will not hire you. You are embarrassing yourself.

• Courtney Ferguson: Useless.

• Yet again, Ned Lannamann attempted to write about science; yet again, he failed. Mr. Lannamann, please do us the courtesy of keeping your blog posts nonexistent.

• In a pathetic spectacle of self-pleasure not witnessed since his poorly attended "'Bate-a-palooza '11," Ezra "Ace" Caraeff loudly congratulated himself for trouncing some pencil-necked fancy lads at a girls' sport. Keep up the hard work, Mr. Caraeff, and best of luck in the coming badmitton season.

• Erik Henriksen's blogging privileges should be revoked.

• At long last, Wm. Steven Humphrey joined the rest of the insufferable Blogtown idiots in droning on and on about his cat. In the Cassano household, it is an indisputable maxim that all cats should be euthanized at birth; I hereby extend that provision to include all cat people.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 18:00:54 -0700

Evening, fucknuggets. Let's look back on Blogtown's week that was! Alternatively, you dull-eyed halfwits could better spend your humiliating amounts of free time doing literally anything else.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff (poorly) feigned outrage after being sent an unsolicited email about soap. Take the hint, ass, and get in the goddamn shower for once in your adult life.

• Sarah Mirk refused to shut the fuck up about garbage.

• Marjorie Skinner: SELLOUT.

• Succeeding in her weekly bid to appear increasingly desperate and/or pathetic, Alison Hallett casually advocated having unsolicited sexual intercourse with fictional children.

• The Mercury's crackwhorish permissiveness regarding drug abuse inspired Erik Henriksen to move his bong away from his Nintendo and in front of his work computer. Portland Police Department: I hereby demand that you raid the squalid Mercury offices immediately.

• Continuing his unwitting impression of that obnoxious Rain Man freak, Ned Lannamann attempted to use the word "forgivable" as many times as humanly possible in a single post. As usual, no one read past his third sentence.

• Courtney Ferguson broke the shocking news that filthy hippies like bullshit music festivals. Excellent reporting, Ms. Ferguson, you unbelievably insipid dolt.

• Come now, Wm. Steven Humphrey: If you're going to go to elaborate lengths to assuage your meager conscience about stealing, perhaps you should steal something worthwhile. Say, a newspaper that's actually worth reading.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 16:29:00 -0700

Afternoon, shitbags.

• "I completely forgot about Brumm," giggled slackjaw Sarah Mirk, explaining why pint-sized mayoral candidate Max Brumm was absent in her story that was about mayoral candidates. "I just straight up forgot that he existed." Ms. Mirk, you're as oblivious as the delusional rugrat you failed to report on. Perhaps the two of you should get married, squelch out a few miniature wonk-tards, and then drive the Mirk-Brumm minivan off of a motherfucking cliff.

• Perhaps unaware that Marjorie Skinner already reports on insufferably irrelevant fashion "news," Ezra "Ace" Caraeff daintily typed a few words about women's tank tops. Next week: his thoughts on nail polish, and which Sex and the City character he most identifies with! (Spoiler: the Jew.)

• Courtney Ferguson: still useless.

• Wm. Steven Humphrey fell in love with Dane Cook. That seems about right.

• BREAKING NEWS: Tony Perez reported that Mayor Sam Adams and several city commissioners will learn how to "make a a cold watermelon and cucumber salad with fennel and mint"! Shut shut your mouth mouth, imbecile.

• Another week, another depressing Alison Hallett diary entry.

• Marjorie Skinner wrote something about some idiot hippies. GET A JOB, LONGHAIRS. TAKE A SHOWER, DIRTFEET. WRITE LIKE YOU USED TO, MS. SKINNER.

• Erik Henriksen implied he could read a book that does not contain any Spider-Men. Good luck with those 928 pages, dipshit!

• Ned Lannamann saw a video of a skateboarding dog and, predictably enough, immediately started jumping up and down and clapping. No one show him the video below, lest the cretin ejaculate all over his desk in delight.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 15:59:24 -0700

I have spoken to you before—using monosyllabic words, speaking exceedingly slowly—about the Mercury's pathetic lack of discipline and sex drive. But rarely have I seen a week so limp and bereft of content as this past one: Denis C. Theriault, ostensibly attending the birthing of his squalid offspring, was MIA; rather than write anything of interest to regular people, Sarah Mirk chose to file reports from a virgins' convention; Ned Lannamann continued his bewildering crusade to slap his palms against a keyboard all day, yet somehow never create even a single sentence of worth. And yet: Here you are, coming back, day after day, to read this fetid slop. Is your life that empty? Is your browser broken? With every click, you encourage these imbeciles; with every click, you force the bile to rise in my throat.

• A quick note to Wm. Steven Humphrey: Should you continue to shit out hourly insults to taste, at least do your few readers the courtesy of hiring one of your underage sex-slaves as a spell checker. "Jimmy Buffet" is spelled J-I-M-M-Y B-U-F-F-E-T-T. Also, it figures you would be a goddamn "parrothead," you jackass.

• "I don't care if you've seen these already," proclaimed Alison Hallett, the four-millionth person on the internet to post some pictures of some happy gays and lesbians and what-have-you. Thanks for the breaking news, Ms. Hallett! I look forward to your half-assed reposting of actual news organizations' stories in the future! (That was sarcasm, sweetcheeks.)

• Mere weeks after Ms. Hallett finally shut her hole about those inane Harry Potter movies, Erik Henriksen has started bitching and moaning about The Hunger Games. At least he had the courtesty of arranging his utterly irrelevant thoughts in a concise, easily ignorable list.

• Courtney Ferguson went to a foot-fetish party. Ms. Ferguson: Please share more pictures of you feet. You will note, I hope, that this is not the first time I have asked you this; nor, I fear, will it be the last. Come now, Ms. Ferguson. I await your email.

• Marjorie Skinner droned, "In 2009 the first-ever Nordic Fashion Biennale went down in Rejvjavík...." No one knows if Ms. Skinner's post offered anything beyond that sentence, as no one gives a fuck.

• Ezra "Ace" Caraeff played with a doll. And himself.

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

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Frank Cassano's "Blogtown in Review"

Frank Cassano — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 17:11:42 -0700

Hello, fuckwit. Let's see what the Blogtown retards got up to this week.

• 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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Seattle Music is Better Than Portland Music, Says Guy Who Knows Nothing About Music

Ezra Ace Caraeff — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 16:19:12 -0700

In the wake of this weekend's big footy match, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer's Chris Grygiel clumsily throws down the gauntlet and boldly declares that Seattle music rules and Portland music drools. Of course, these "my dad is bigger than your dad" arguments are totally useless, but since we are inferior in every way to our neighbors to the north, let's see what this cool fellow has to say about our subpar music scene.

Now I’ll start out by acknowledging that Portland, as home of The Kingsmen of “Louie Louie” fame, is no slouch. But let’s begin with when the world at large began noticing Northwest music en masse, back in the early 1990s, otherwise known as the “grunge” era. Seattle spawned Soundgarden, Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam and Mudhoney. Portland produced Everclear (last seen playing Seattle’s Rock ‘N’ Roll marathon).

Ha, you got us. Up until the '90s Portland only had two bands: The Kingsmen and Everclear (ex-Kingsmen).

Many purists disliked the mass appeal of the megabands, so let’s dig a little deeper. The excellent singer-songwriter, the late Elliott Smith, hailed from Portland. Score one for the Rose City side. Myself, I was always partial to Smith’s earlier band, the criminally overlooked, punk/metal foursome Heatmiser - another great group from down south.

Clearly you are a purist, because as we all know Heatmiser was totally metal. Since this article was written in 1993 (right?), you should just arbitrarily list a bunch of Seattle bands from 20 years ago. That'll prove your point.

At about the same time Seattle was awash in outstanding regional alternative rock acts like 7 Year Bitch, the Gits, Hammerbox, Alcohol Funnycar, Sister Psychic, Love Battery, The Fall-Outs and a host of others. We were home to great pop rock acts that were here B.G. and A.G. (before “grunge” and after “grunge) — the Fastbacks, Young Fresh Fellows and the Squirrels.

And Cat Butt. Why does everyone forget Cat Butt?

Moving into the latter part of the 1990s the hits kept coming from the Puget Sound, from groups like Modest Mouse (and yes, I know Isaac Brock later moved to Portland, but he didn’t go there when he and his mates were still young and hungry), Presidents of the United States of America, Death Cab for Cutie, Harvey Danger, Goodness, Juno and art rock darlings Carissa’s Wierd. Moving into the first part of the 21st Century, we’ve got Visqueen, Unnatural Helpers (who can pound out more punk energy in two minutes than others can in 20) and prog-performance-theater rockers “Awesome.”

You would have mentioned Portland bands here, but since there are only three (Kingsmen, Everclear, and the headbangers in Heatmiser), I see your point. You win. Take a victory lap around the Space Needle, buddy!

If there’s been a signature Northwest genre during the last few years, it just may be alterna-country. Portland takes a big hit in this department because their home to the cloying Decemberists, who produce a treacly, pedantic soundtrack for frustrated 19th century, lovelorn ship captain wannabees. (Colin Meloy’s Missoula, Mont., college band Tarkio was better — more rock, less pretense). For country noir with a literary bent, I much prefer Portland’s Richmond Fontaine. Dolorean is also pretty good.

Woah, three more Portland bands. We have six! Suck it, Alcohol Funnycar. Also, no one on earth prefers Tarkio to the Decemberists. That's like saying, "Yeah, Pearl Jam is okay, but I prefer Bad Radio."

Whatever you do next, don't wait until the final paragraph to make a statement that waters down your already poor argument:

Now admittedly my local music knowledge isn’t as up to date as it should be.

Oh.

I’m told current Portland bands like Purple & Green and Loch Lamond ain’t bad.

Were you also told that "Loch Lamond" is spelled Loch Lomond?

But I’m sure we’ve still got four great local offerings for every one decent one out of Portland. Take that Timbers Army.

Check and mate.

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