Hippie Jesus has been a raw, macrobiotic vegan since before he was born.

In the world of animal rights, no organization has done more for the plight of non-human animals than C.O.C.K. (Compassion Over Cruelty and Killing). As the world’s most perfect and pure vegan, I only support non-profit organizations whose message is for animal rights not animal welfare. If you don’t know the difference, then you’re probably the type of asshole who puts bacon on a veggie burger. The good people at C.O.C.K. know the difference. They know that farm animals are just hairy people who can’t talk or open a door. They know that in the peaceful world of nature an animal should never be food for another animal. It’s about rights people! Rights for all living, breathing creatures that don’t make their own food through photosynthesis. I mean, fuck, it’s not that hard to understand!

So when I heard that my old friend John Graeter is opening a new gallery this First Thursday, I knew this was the perfect opportunity to merge my dual loves of animal rights and Portland art. I will have my 100% vegan mandalas for sale tomorrow at Graeter Art Gallery (G.A.G.) and all of my profits from Thursday’s sales will go to C.O.C.K.’s campaign to end the senseless cruelty of chicken choking. I mean, even disgusting dairy eating vegetarians and the brutal Nazi’s who call themselves “omnivores” can all agree that choking chickens is sick and wrong.

So please come down to G.A.G. and buy one of my vegan mandalas in support of C.O.C.K’s efforts to end chicken choking for good. Thanks to John Graeter and his C.O.C.K. support, we may soon see the end of chicken choking.

G.A.G. Opening
October 6, 2011 from 5pm – 10pm
131 NW 2nd Ave,
Portland, OR, 97209

Local activist and Lesbian swinger Orin Starr leading a group of anti-rude bingo night protesters outside of "The Nest" a bar in Portland, Oregon

When most people think of bars in Portland Oregon good times and good beer come to mind. Even The Nest, Alberta street’s hot-spot for local well dressed liberals such as Orin Starr has been known for it’s comfortable atmosphere, cheap beer, and loud music set against a backdrop of fine rotating artwork curated by local celebrity Chris Haberman. What happens, though, when a local hangout, once a meeting point for well-cologned, high-class hipsters goes south? It becomes a Mecca for disgusting, disturbing, delusional,  racist, sexist, classist and homophobic outcries of slander and distaste masked by the power of the First Amendment.

On Sunday May 8th, 2011 Orin Starr entered The Nest like he does every other day of the week, hopped up on anti-depressents and exhausted after a long hard day of customer service at a local Co-Op. What did he want? He wanted what every other person in the bar wanted that night: a beer and an atmosphere that allowed him the opportunity to peep some fresh female clam as they say. What did he get, you ask? A first hand lesson in freedom of speech! Quietly enjoying his drink, Orin and his wingman for the night couldn’t help but notice it was Bingo Night, but what they failed to recognize was the well-posted and immediately visible signs stating “Sunday night at The Nest is we get to say what ever the fuck we want bingo night”. That’s right, readers, it was Rude Bingo Night.

After listening to the guy at the microphone berate gentle folks waiting for the bathroom with malicious slanderous comments, Orin turned to his wingman (a person who intelligently chooses to remain anonymous) and says, “Fuck this piece of shit with his whole I have a beard and balls attitude, I’m gonna fuck his shit up!” Orin’s wingman, Christianly as a kitten’s vagina, chose to turn the other cheek and ignore the barrage of bingo inspired insults, and quietly sipped his or her beer. Orin, however, could not just sit by while the ears of decent folks everywhere were subjected to  such harsh and vile abuse, and cried out, “Hey dumb fuckin’ dick for brains! This is Portland! We don’t hurt people’s feelings here you fucking piece of shit!”

Unfortunately Orin had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Being that he had completely ignored the well-posted signs describing the event of the evening in clear and vivid detail, the man-bear at the microphone took this as someone wanting to play along with the evening’s festivities, and really gave Orin a piece of his mind…. (Here at PortlandCityArt.com we strive ourselves to bring you up to date slanderous bullshit without censorship ,but the words exchanged in that moment at the bar were so degrading and shameful that even WE couldn’t stomach printing them in this article…….) Once the extended exchange of poetic hate had come down from its’ inevitable climax, Orin turned to the bartender to complain. The bartender ,though, had only this to say: “Bitch, put a dick in it!”

Disgusted by the entire situation and distraught by the not so sensitive energy at the bar, Orin fell victim to the violence and unleashed a flurry of ice cubes in the direction of Mr. Rude Bingo. A fist fight soon broke out, bottles were smashed, Starr’s friend was dragged from the bar by his or her front-facing ponytail and Orin, well… he was later found bloodied and hunching over in the alley like a lump of used dog shit (as opposed to brand new dog shit, straight from the ass).

Customers at the bar refused to comment on the situation, and even Portland’s finest were not able to get a statement regarding the scene of events that unfolded that evening. Was Orin Starr an unsuspecting victim of a hate crime or just a mild mannered customer pushed to the edge of violent rage by a tasteless lower then human life form holding the mic that night? Is this what our fair city is coming to? Bars that once housed the meek and sensitive now playgrounds for dirty mouthed trash talkers with a taste for violence against she-men? Is the first amendment really that important? Did Portland lose its sense of humor? Did it ever HAVE a sense of humor? Whatever the reason, whatever the justification, Portland has failed in the eyes of its’ citizens, and The Nest is the thorn that continues to break the CIty of Rose’s back.

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Goodfoot Bar in Turmoil!!!

Sources have confirmed that Jason Brown (Goodfoot bar operator, music and art venue coordinator) is set to receive emergency hair removal treatment at Legacy Emanuel Hospital in NE Portland this weekend for an ongoing problem he has had with tremendous uncontrollable facial hair growth.

According to friends and family Jason has been battling with this issue for several years now. Recently he sought treatment in North Korea with Doctor Hoo Long Wie where he was the subject of a new experimental ointment that was supposed to have reduced his hair length by almost half.  Instead, the not yet tested on humans ointment increased his beard length and turned the hair a deep red while also stimulating hair to grow out of every pore on his face.

Reporters caught up with Jason as he left the Legacy Health Center for his first exam and he had this to say.

“ARRAGHHH HUMMM HUMM SHHSHHHH HUMMM SHH HUMMM BEEERGGHHHHHH HHUMMM SHHH!”

What exactly he wanted to get out is not yet known, but we expect to hear from him again as doctors at Legacy have promised a full recovery with a clean bill of health. Portland artists, friends, and family are keeping Jason in their prayers tonight as they  all look forward to a new and more formidable man / curator after the surgery.

Dottie Barksdale has been keeping parking spots safe and generating revenue for the city since 1972.

Good riddance, and a big thank you to Tan Peluski for letting me write his column. He has been ill, but sends his best. Important things await me this evening. Dinner with Vera Katz followed by a waxing and if we’re lucky a little horseback. Ha, I just realized that later tonight I’m going to be “Running down a dream” literally! Sex on the Titties.

Anyhow, for those of you who are not familiar with my public record, I am Dottie Barksdale, and here is a timeline of events which are all important to note when addressing the controversy surrounding Last Thursday on Alberta Street.

• 01/01/2010
  I was appointed Director of the grassroots organization
  Alberta Street Residents Against Last Thursday (ASRALT)
  whose mission statement is the same as its’ name.
• 01/02/2010
  I addressed representatives of ASRALT and announced
  my choice of focus for the organization: parking meters.

• 01/05/2010
  I caught a lucky break on craigslist.
  A gentleman by the name of Mr. Spice was selling
  a truck full of parking meters at a flat cost of $5000.
  With money from petty cash, I drove to meet
  Mr. Spice and traded the cash for keys to the truck.

• 01/07/2010
  Me and a bunch of volunteers from ASRALT went around putting
  the parking meters up on Alberta Street. Since we’re not an official organization,
  or representatives of the government, we were able to do so with no signage.
• 01/07/2010
  I gave out my first parking ticket to a smelly guy playing a guitar.
  I explained to him that if he wanted to park himself or anything else
  on my Alberta Street, he was going to have to keep feeding the nearest meter.
  He acted like this was an outrage, and the crowd started to get behind him,
  but then I pointed out all the change in his guitar case. What a selfish prick.
  
• 01/28/2010
  Last Thursday. Most people had accepted the meters by now,
  but there was still a little grumbling about it. Especially in the “arts community”.
  Anyone that found themselves on Alberta Street quickly found out how things worked.
  You either keep moving, or you pay the nearest meter to park. Anybody that didn’t
  pay to park got a ticket. Sure people were pissed off at first, but once they realized that
  the tickets were not real, most were so grateful to have dodged a parking ticket,
  they gladly started feeding the meters. Money was beginning to flow.
• 01/29/2010
  The next day we unloaded the parking meters.
  I personally counted every nickel: $807,000 and change !!!
  We couriered a check to the Mayor, a donation to the city,
  along with a note about how much we would appreciate
  an end to Last Thursdays on Alberta.

Artists, art lovers, and art community supporters, give me your ears. Last Thursdays on Alberta Street are over. You’re welcome to show up and keep feeding my meters, but there will be no more public displays of affection. There will be no more public displays of intoxication. There will be no more public displays of people being weird. Nobody likes weird, not even in Portland. So just stop it already. I suggest you move it along to the Up-and-Coming Gallery, where up-and-coming artists can display their work if they are skillful enough to beat Up and Coming owner at Asteroids. That would seem to be a better use of your quarters, but like I said, if you want to give them to me I will offer no complaint. I will give them to the Mayor, he will give them to the city, and the city will give them back to you in the form of police protection making sure that weirdness never shows its face again on Alberta Street. In other words, making it a better place.

Artists, art lovers, and art community supporters (i.e. white people with college degrees and no money) the city is grateful to you for doing your part in chasing off the people who were there before, but it is now time for you to get with the program. You are beginning to be a headache, even to teenagers. You are the broom, and you did a good job sweeping, but now it is time for tax-paying citizens like myself to enjoy the clean, swept floor. So off you go, I hear your services would be appreciated in Gresham, and perhaps further out in the other directions as well. Like my boyhood crush, Tom Petty, would say: “Don’t come around here no more.”

~ Dottie Barksdale

As the younger twin of the world's most famous birthday party entertainer, Chuck O. Cheese lends us his special insight into the pitfalls of fame and fortune. Now, unfortunately for our dear readers, HE IS DEAD.

Folks, Ladies and hippies… Portland Guys from Eugene to Astoria… Strippers, coffee shop/bar/gallery owners, Richard Spear, Jon Motley and the city of Portland itself.

After a long inner staff war with our current writers (leaving some of them limbless, some of them toothless, and one of them dead on the scene), we are proud to say that our site is back on track. As for the battle, here are some highlights from the rage of bloodshed.

Tan Peluski left early on. Stumbling through a crowd of swinging bats and knives, he took some paperwork, a bottle of Jack and 3 transvestite strippers that Art brought to the staff party as a joke. At this moment, even with all available law enforcement agencies scouring the countryside trying to determine his whereabouts, Tan is still nowhere to be found.

Ten minutes into the fight, the world’s most intelligent man, Art Jeanyus, devised a brilliant plan of escape by tying a group of hippies to a McDonald’s bag, convincing them it was filled with a toxic gas that would kill every bunny in the world. He slipped into the middle of them and made his way through the crowd like a kid in a clothes rack at Kmart. What a man! Two of his roped foes did suffer several knife wounds, but thankfully there was no toxic gas and Art is back on the staff.

Bosom Bunny, our favorite sexy vixen of vivaciousness either left with Tan or left with one of the cops. Either way: go for it guys! Bosom is a special treat! Wink, wink!

Johnson Von Motley was found whispering happy thoughts to Merle the Magnificent after the magician POOFED! his arms away, but thankfully for everyone involved Johnson was OK with that. That guy sure knows how to find the bright side of everything. Motley is back on active duty, and has worked hard to learn how to type with his toes. So have no fear, you won’t miss any good thoughts about everything out there that Portland has to offer… Even crappy art. Oh sorry, Johnson! The great art with stars and flowers bouncing off of it in rainbow colors… Geez, what a load!

In the end, though, as we skip all the stabbing and bats upside heads and legs, Shaggy the Dog and Robert Brian Henry (more commonly referred to as ‘Angry White Guy’) teamed up on our beloved Chuck O. Cheese. In a picturesque type of way, though, I must admit… Robert was screaming about little boys eating popsicles and Shaggy the Dog, well… He was just barking. In what can only be described as an immaculate display of teamwork, Henry and Shaggy delivered a flurry of accurate blows to the fuzzy mouse costumee, and in an ironic twist (considering his stories about little kids’ moms), Chuck O. Cheese “went down”. We thought that would be the end of that, but oh we could not have been more mistaken. Robert Brian Henry approached Cheese from the backside and… Well, pardon my French, but let’s just say our dear mouse was enjoyed in quite an angry way. Simultaneously, Shaggy the Dog ate his head. Not just the costume, the entire thing. Completely. That dog can seriously fucking eat.

So with those two suspended from the staff, Chuck O. Cheese in popsicle boy heaven, and Tan still on the run, we start over this July with the hopes and dreams of bigger, better, and brighter future here at PortlandCityArt.com.

Tan, the Tomorrow Man, if you’re out there, PLEASE COME HOME!!!

Your dearest friend (and drinking buddy),
Hot Shit