No, you’re weird! Portland wants to say we’re not the problem, dude, you are! We’re repurposing our buildings from the old West and turning them into little boutiques, craft beer joints; we love grunge, even on Monday nights when the band plays and no one shows up. We ride urban bike; we have Williamette Valley wine on tap. We leave our unwanted things on the side of the street so someone else can pick them up. We have soft air, laced with an ever-present hint of rain. We also have our others, who are not “we.” They are the alt-Righters whom we protest who protest us. At the airport, a straggly group, World War II vets, I heard, led by a bagpiper. There were wheelchairs, tattoos, biker wear all wrapped endlessly in the American flag The new frontier is a conceptual one: the battle to name who is weird.
Fun
You nailed it, Jill!