The City Of Portland's Green Illogic

A few months ago, the City of Portland, Oregon, in its continuing series of "green" initiatives, slashed curbside garbage pick-ups to every other week and gave everybody a compost bin about the size of a breadbox. The idea was to increase recycling and decrease garbage going into landfills. There was the usual hue and cry about pestilence and plague because, apparently, large rats would begin to invade our fair city; but, by and large, sheeple in Portland went along with the idea.

Well, lo and behold! Portland has dropped the amount of garbage going into the city's landfills by a staggering 44%! The City of Portland asked for it and by god the citizens responded.

So, how did the City of Portland respond to such an overwhelming success? Why, they raised the garbage rates of course! Why? Because the price of gas has gone up and bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla. Yes, it is Green Illogic once again rearing its ugly, garbage infested head. Take something that actually worked as intended and then give the citizens a nice deep screw by raising their garbage rates. If the amount of garbage going to landfills has decreased by 44%, then shouldn't the amount of garbage trucks and their miles traveled to said landfills also have been reduced? It therefore makes no sense then to raise the garbage rates.

The City of Portland: the city that works to screw you.

FIVE Wrong Ways To Bum A Smoke From Me

WARNING: explicit language

Look, I'm as pleasant as the next smoker, in spite of the continual second class treatment of smokers by the nanny state. However, here are five wrong ways to attempt to "bum a smoke" from me.

1) When I'm talking on the phone. Really, you would interrupt somebody's phone call for any reason? Seriously, you'd walk up to a complete stranger on the street who is talking on the phone and ask them for a cigarette? How fucking rude!

2) When I'm crossing the street in one direction and you are crossing in another direction. Really, I should stop in the middle of a crosswalk and roll you one?

3) When you're a pretty woman, batting your lovely eyes and cooing your voice, asking, "Please, can I bum a smoke?", when your Ramones looking reject of a boyfriend flits about nearby. I know who the fucking smoke is really for!

4) Just as I'm about to board the bus or train. Sure, let me miss my damn bus or train so you can bum a smoke. Makes perfect fucking sense to me, you fucking moron.

5) And last, but certainly not least, when I'm at a bar and you're one of those "I only smoke when I drink" type of smokers, "not like you". Give me a good golly god damned break! You can afford those endless shots of Bushmills but can't afford to buy a fucking pack of smokes? I'm just a working class hero after all.

No Jake Brakes!

I am currently in a living situation that can be best described as temporary. Well, it is in a garage. It is right next to a very busy street and major route for large trucks. And it is trucks I have come to you today to discuss. Oh, nothing to do with commerce or Wall Street, but the use of Jake brakes.

Jake brakes are loud, window rattling, teeth chattering and earthquake inducing (well, maybe not that). In some communities, Jake brakes are banned. Alas, here in enviro-concious Portland, such is not the case. In fact, over the years, the once popular movement to do something about noise pollution appears to have waned.

With concerns these days centered more on such things as the economy, fracking, the Occupy movement, endless war and how dreamy and wonderful President Obama is, it is perfectly understandable that noise pollution has taken a seat way in the back. However, noise pollution affects everybody, everyday; whether it is Jake brakes, jet airliners, unmuffled motorcycles, obnoxious students on a bus or constant road construction. Apparently, we have learned over time to just shrug our shoulders and deal with it. Yet, fear not! There are still groups out there dealing with this problem (here is an example) and there is something you do about it. If you so desire.

"What's that?", you say over the din.

I said, "IF YOU SO DESIRE!"