As the State Turns

Portland Garden Opens New Thingy
Did you know that Portland has one hell of a beautiful Japanese garden? I did, because I know everything. No seriously, ask me something. Just make sure to give me a week to get back to you.

Anyhow, the Portland Japanese Garden just unveiled their new Cultural Crossing expansion – a $33.5 million thingamajig complete with café, a nearly 20-foot-tall castle wall, gallery, educational space. It may not sound like much, but it better be good after they spent an amount that could have gotten them about 42,405,063 burritos. Any idea how many people that could have fed at, say, nine burritos a day? Go ahead and work that out yourself, so your jaw can go all slack when you hit the final equals key. The good news is, everyone would probably die from malnutrition, so no harm no foul, Portland Japanese Garden.

Over the summer they promise the presence of musicians and kabuki theater in addition to access to the other five garden spaces. Oh, you want to know who designed the whole shebang? Glad you asked. It was Kengo Kuma, who is well known for his designer prowess, also being tasked to design the stadium that’ll be used for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

Admission was raised along with the unveiling, from $9.50 to $14.95. I think you can do that burrito math on your own as well. It’s your time to fly, young padawan. Also I’m really tired and feeling incredibly lazy.

Peter Courtney, Senator Extraordinaire
Who the hell is this guy? Why, he’s the president of the Oregon Senate, that’s who! Representin’ the 11th District since before Y2K caused the world to collapse, a recent Oregon Public Broadcasting story made it a point to focus on one of his quotes: “You don’t want to know how crazy I am.”

As it turns out, the guy was right, so let’s move on from that.

Bottle Deposit Chaos
Terror in the streets, people screaming bloody murder with fists full of cans and stuff, naked hipsters in the rivers! Okay, that last part is true. And that, folks, is why you just don’t swim in Portland. But I digress… that new bottle deposit hike? So far, so good. Last Saturday a large number of Oregonians decided that while the planet can just go to hell for 5 cents, 10 cents was too much to be ignored. Basically, what I mean is that a ton of people recycled. Yay.

Perhaps more interesting are the freakazoids that began collecting bottles months ago when they first heard about the hike so they could get a few extra bucks once it went live. It’s like, wow, my dudes. Good job! You did the thing.

Apparently the press pool that hangs around the Capitol building in Salem started stocking up on crates  of bottled water so they could use the deposit returns to throw themselves a “pizza party.” It’s like, you could have totally just bought pizza whenever you wanted, dumba*ses. You’re grown-a*s people.

The new BottleDrop site in North Portland even saw a man ride through on a pig to drop off about 200 empty Bud Lights. That didn’t actually happen, but sounds like it could have.

Lebanon Dog Won’t Stop Barking
A spotted pit bull terrier named Pete barks at every person who walks by his house, even on the opposite side of the road. I am so serious. This guy really won’t STFU. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in six months. Send help.

Speaking of Animals That Are Black and White
Apparently there’s this thing called a “mega dairy,” and Oregon’s second largest just got the go ahead by way of receiving some kind of fancy permit. They’ve got 16,500 (of a maximum 30,000) cows ready to have their sweet nipply goodness sucked from their hang-sacks, just in time for your upcoming breakfast cereal or cheese-laden food. Oh hell yes, I can’t wait!

The permit certifies that the dairy won’t destroy the local water supplies and other stuff too much. It is noteworthy to mention that the permit doesn’t account for air quality conditions, which has everyone talking about cow farts again. I say, let it go. When you’re a cow and your entire existence is to be locked up and have your rack siphoned, farts are the last pleasure you’re afforded.

By Johnny Beaver

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