Hobbled (Thursday Morning)

After the woman she’s with  

finishes her cross, reprimanding phone-call

and sits scowling dourly….

After the large, plaster-spattered man

sitting next to her gets off the bus,

tripping over her crutches on the way out…..

The little girl with the broken leg breaks the silence

And says, “That was so funny, the other night.”

The reflecting frown becomes its own reflection

and the woman laughs loudly and says, “Yeah!!  It was!!”

 “Tell me again what happened?” pleads the child.

 Her mother’s mouth droops,

and so do her eyes,

and so do her shoulders….

“I can’t remember,”

she murmurs.

The little girl with the broken leg in the purple cast

Turns her inquiring eyes

Toward the same nowhere

that her mom is not trying hard enough

not to see,

And the rest of the ride is silence.

My brother bounced off of another car yesterday. He does this a lot. He claims the car suddenly turned left, just in front of his bike, in order to snag a parking spot.  My brother already had his brakes on because he was going downhill so it wasn’t high-speed or anything. 

The same thing happened a couple months ago (I told you it happens a lot) and my brother tried to lean away from the taxi and ended up getting a little damage on his bike (and 20$ from the guilt-ridden driver). So, with lesson learned, this time the boy genius decided to lean into the Ford Explorer and hold himself against it with his right shoulder and thigh to help him turn. 

But the car hit him regardless, and (pissed off as hell) my brother rode up onto the sidewalk, got off the bike and started walking toward the guy (I think he’s getting sick of getting hit) 

THE DRIVER: “Didn’t you see my signal? I had it on!”

MY BROTHER: “Yeah…AFTER I was already passing you!”

THE DRIVER: “I didn’t see you.”

MY BROTHER: “No shit! I think that’s the fucking problem!!”

Then the driver got out of his car and ended up being really nice.  He stood with his back to his car, facing my brother and apologizing profusely, telling him how he really does try to watch for cyclists, and how he really respects them, and that he has friends who are cyclists, etc, etc. Turns out the driver was really worried that my brother or his bike were damaged.

MY BROTHER: They weren’t, thanks to my cat-like reflexes. (I think my brother is damaged…but for other reasons)

While the driver is apologizing and asking my brother if he is okay, my brother looks at the side of the car and sees a huge, round, knee-sized dent in the door where he “leaned” into it. 

THE DRIVER: Do you want my insurance card?”

MY BROTHER: No, no I’m fine, the bike’s fine—let’s call it good. 

By now my brother is just trying to leave before the driver notices the dent. They shook hands and my brother took off…quick. I think they ended up pretty even on that one.

Last night my brother and his wife were in their garden chatting and enjoying the evening when they noticed their dog, Spike stalking something in the weeds.

Suddenly Spike darted forward—in three quick bounds—and pounced on something.  He then trotted proudly back to my brother and sister-in-law with a bleeding, convulsing rat in his jaws. Spike laid it at their feet and they all watched as it gasped its last rat breath. 

My brother had been trying for weeks to trap a rat that keeps going into the garbage under the kitchen sink He thinks this may be the same rat.

My brother thought it was good that Spike was living up to his breeding (rat terrier). My brother also thought it was a good touch that Spike brought the kill to him. He said it “Was nice to have an animal EARN ITS KEEP!!!!”

The men’s Nike® Jordan Melo III basketball shoe is so fucking fresh that not even MJ himself could pull it off. Melo might be able to, but with the full-grain leather upper and futuristic fit system, even his coolness factor is a long shot. So good luck to you Joe Nobody. 

Designed around a secure inner sleeve for the ultimate in full-court support and comfort there is no way in hell you could ever be up, down or sideways enough for this shoe. But not getting a pair infused with a full-length Phylon midsole, Zoom Air Bag forefoot and encapsulate Air Unit, means you will surely cement your place in loser kingdom. And forget about ever getting laid because your new no-name high-tops  are not only ugly and unbranded, they lack the excellent lightweight cushioning and durability, and dual-level, circular herringbone pattern for superior multi-directional traction.

Available at NikeTown and Dick’s Sporting Goods.

Dear Abby,

Labor Day weekend is coming up and I am going on a camping trip with some friends. There are a lot of really great people going and it should be a fun time. I do have one concern…it ‘s my friend (I’ll call him Don Sloth).

Don Sloth is a really nice guy and usually a lot of fun to be around, but lately I fear that he has become a racist. I really have no solid evidence to back this up…let’s just call it a hunch. I want to show him the light (no pun intended) before he goes too far astray. What should I do?

Signed

White Meat/Dark Meat…it all tastes the same, in Portland, OR

Dear White Meat/Dark Meat,

A camping trip is the ideal place to teach your friend the wrongs of racism. How lucky that you will be in the deep woods with no witnesses! My advice is to take a canoe and re-enact scenes from Deliverance. This will show him that racism hurts everyone…especially him. Make him squeal like a piggy! Throw in some improvisation and have fun with it!

My friend (I’ll call her Minga) recently sent me an email that said “Let’s get drunk.  It’s been a tough week.” I am concerned that her new job marketing sparkly, acne fighting lights has pushed her over the edge. I fear that crack, heroine and huffing are not far behind. My question is…when she passes out drunk and I draw on her face with a sharpie and then put her half-naked body in embarrassing poses with the migrant workers who hang out near MLK and Burnside…how much should I sell the photos for? 

Signed
Glass half full in Portland, OR