As the State Turns…

stateturnssymbolDave to Get Killer Deal on Bread
Dave’s Killer Bread, the bread that people like to talk about, eat, purchase, and sometimes smear different things on. It’s good and also, at times, disgusting and a bit too much like sponge and bird seed… and you love it, because that tastes like health.

Well, Dave is sitting on the edge of a $55 million payout (Don’t worry, I won’t calculate the number of burritos this can buy… it’s 55 million). Regulators are currently looking through their spyglasses for cracks in the deal, but if everything goes Dave’s way he’ll have his ties to the company stripped while he gallivants around the planet buying up bakeries, more bakeries, and hookers. And also a coffee can full of cocaine. And he’s going to create a giant tree fort with real monkeys and a hippo and rideable flamingos and a waterslide.

Dammit, nevermind… those are my plans.

Come on Summer, Light My Fire (Or Don’t, You Bastard)
Oregon is on fire—or at least the Canyon Creek Complex is, with over 37,000 acres ablaze as of last Sunday. So far, 26 homes have been lost, but fortunately none of them belonged to a celebrity. After taking a look at the wildfire map for the whole Northwest, I can report that there are some red squiggles towards the southwest, some along the eastern side of the state, and a couple elsewhere. I’m pretty sure those represent fires, but it’s also possible that I’m just making all of this up (I’m actually not, but I thought I’d be fair).

There are also a ton of those squiggles like, all over Washington… but we don’t care about Washington. If we did, this would have to be called As Cascadia Turns, and freakin’ Idaho and stuff would have to be included and just, hell no. Hell no. Why? Currently Idaho has a fire that has covered 283,000-something acres. That makes Oregon sound wimpy.

At The Corvallis Advocate, we won’t stand for weakness.

And They’re Off… We Think
You missed it, you fools. Apparently so did I—Portland’s 19th annual Adult Soapbox Derby. It was on Aug. 15 and pulled in an estimated 7,000 to 10,000 attendees. Over 100 volunteers gathered with a bunch of weirdos and watched them race downhill in horribly unsafe contraptions, some of which were dressed up in what I can only describe as a mixture of turf and their mother’s wardrobe.

Yes, I did say 19th annual. That’s 19 years of grown-a*s people racing garbage down a hill. We still love you, Portland.

I Always Put You First, Corvallis
This week Oregon Public Broadcasting’s Public Insight Network asked three questions. I love sending them letters, but thought to myself, “Hey, who the hell is OPB to get first crack at my opinion?” That’s right, folks, this time I’m just going to respond directly to you.

Do you feel a personal connection to children’s author Beverly Cleary?

Not really. I mean, I know someone named Beverly, she’s the director of the Jacob’s Gallery in Eugene and has impeccable taste in art (she likes mine)… and Cleary reminds me of the Publishers Clearing House. Oh and also there’s Beverly Crusher, the best doctor the Enterprise NCC 1710 D could have hoped to have on board. And Bear McCreary, who created composition work on the Battlestar Galactica reboot, as well as The Walking Dead. That guy is pretty cool, even though he has the haircut of a sixth grader.

What are the best river hangouts in Oregon and southwest Washington?

The Willamette in Corvallis, and… the Marys… in Corvallis. And to hell with Washington! But really, don’t go in the water. There are parasites everywhere. I also believe that the Marys River is infested with lobsters. And that you should not try to swim in there while wearing a backpack full of rocks. Also, don’t put rocks in your butt. I know a guy, and he bled for three days.

What do you think of OSU’s plans for Bend?

 I think OSU is definitely just trying to add another campus in a spot where Oregon’s second-best town of breweries can be found (the first being Corvallis… I’m totally serious). But all in all, because it doesn’t involve lowering the insane tuition, I have a hard time giving a sh*t.

By Johnny Beaver