No Body Cameras? Sure, Why Not Recent court filings regarding the ongoing Malheur nonsense have uncovered a request from the FBI that the Oregon State Police not wear body cameras the night of the incident. Apparently, they also chose not to record interviews with those involved during the course of the initial investigation into the shooting. I mean, I’m sure there are perfectly good reasons for all of this.
1. They wanted to be sure the Malheur crew got off, and that one of their own was eventually indicted for the shooting (hello, hostage rescue team dude Joseph Astarita!).
2. They didn’t want their farts to wind up as part of an official record; sitting around farting freely is a long-time FBI tradition.
3. They’re dumb, like on a genetic level, and can’t help but to make bad decisions.
4. There’s a deep state conspiracy that… er, nevermind, the Republicans currently own this one.
5. There are actually some legitimate reasons that I’m not privy to and/or don’t understand because I’m just an idiot that gives flagrant, often research-less opinions on things that I know very little about.
I’m kind of leaning towards #5 myself, but that’s just been my experience. On another front, I’ve heard upon occasion that some people take this column seriously, but I try not to bother them too much. Because #3.
I am currently in talks with the Centers for Disease Control about turning As the State Turns into a litmus test.
People Are All Like “No” to Offshore Drilling List of people who don’t want offshore drilling in Oregon waters: Basically, everyone in Oregon.
List of people who don’t give a sh*t what Oregonians think about offshore drilling in Oregon: The Federal government.
List of people who just ate way too many cookies for lunch: Johnny Beaver.
Katy Perry Does Weird Sh*t at Moda Center Okay, level with me: what the f*ck is pop stars and suspension wires, mid set wardrobe changes, and synchronized dancing? Because that sh*t is wiggity-wack. So are the TV eyeball helmets, puppets, people crawling in and out of dice, confetti cannons, and everything else that came along with Katy Perry’s bizarre spectacle last week. For the most part, she looked to be wearing like, a pre-chewed Twizzler, or one that you fed to a small dog or something so it pooped it out before fully digesting it.
Re-reading my description, I have to admit that this all sounds pretty awesome on paper. But this wasn’t a Residents show, it was Katy Perry. Have you ever listened to Katy Perry? It’s like, I… I don’t have a metaphor for it. I just know that every ounce of talent that usually exists in a pop artist’s husk is systematically expunged by the music production play’doh machine, and that it’s weird and gross and I hope aliens don’t see it. Because that’s embarrassing. Just like exercising in public.
Thanks, Moda Center.
Good Oregon News Only not.
First off, we have Michael Fisher, the principal of the Academy of Arts and Academics in Springfield, who killed himself last week after being put under investigation for sexual misconduct regarding a minor.
Next, we have a PDX security guard was forced to fire off some shots during a confrontation with hooligans near the Burnside bridge early Saturday morning, though thankfully, the only reported injuries were minor. The night before a 22-year-old man was killed by gunfire in the Pearl District.
Last, but certainly not least, eastern Oregonian Jeffrey Pierce was sentenced on Friday to 212 years in prison for the sexual abuse of an underage relative.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot: On Friday there was also a two car collision near the University of Portland that caught several pedestrians in the crossfire. None of the injuries were life-threatening, but the event itself seemed pretty life-threatening.
Beaverton to Get First Cracker Barrel To begin with, let me say that it comes as no surprise that this is news. People love to talk about restaurants moving in, and the media loves a chance to write about something stupid that requires no research or effort. I know I do! However, what I find strange is that nobody is complaining about this one. Cracker Barrel? That place blows.
I guess after living for years under the thumb of strip-mall overload, Beavertonites have gone numb. Either that, or they’re really intro sh*tty, overpriced food that requires you to navigate an obnoxious gift shop. I mean sure, what’s not to love about washing down a $10 plate of meat loaf with a Michael Jackson vinyl reprint, a hand bag, a Cracker Barrel t-shirt, and some kind of doodad that goes “heeeeuuuuwheep!” when you turn it over? Besides nothing.
There is nothing to love.
We are all just barely self-aware blobs floating on a rock, resting on a sea of an unexplainable nothingness. We will live and die without truly knowing anything, and doom future generations to do the same until the inevitable heat death of the Universe – or more likely, a much faster death by way of our own hands.