Birds of a Feather


 

 
It’s June and the signs of early summer are everywhere. Occasionally, the sun even comes out. Oregon drivers are more distracted than usual, but if you listen closely, you can hear their plaintive “sorreeee” call as they whiz through a stop sign. And city bicyclists are showing their summertime plumage of moral superiority and questionable sartorial sense. The retina burning reflection of the sun’s rays off of the pasty legs and alabaster body parts of city residents is muted only by the black hole, light swallowing properties of their fluoride free teeth and full body tattoos. And while the City Council fine tunes city services to a slow, enlarged prostate-like drip, the sweet smell of self-righteous indignation fills the hearts and minds of Oregonians everywhere as we each express our individuality– just like everybody else. Just stay outta my way, jerk.

Welcome to summer. Your grumpy wine guy is back.

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