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Did Capitalism Destroy Portland?

Fleeing Sodom by Camille Corot

The Bacon Condom Saga

 

Portland Stinks! Outdoor pooping, peeing, and puking by the homeless are NOT social drinking –no matter what city officials claim. Add air thick with Blunt Skunk and that calescent Magic Marker stench from crack pipes, and it’s enough to make one glue a pine scent car freshener to one’s upper lip.

     “Success is the best deodorant,” said Liz Taylor after launching a killer fart that brought tears to every eye on the Cleopatra set. It’s a defense that’s not going to work for Portland, not soon or likely ever. Here’s why:

We Had A Great City Once BUT Then We Got High

          Portland’s disastrous fling with capitalism began with the invention of Bacon Flavored Condoms in the early 1980s. It crashed soon after, but it can only be reported now due to the Freedom of Information Act.  

          

          In the early 1980s, Portland’s workforce was comprised of largely unemployed Fishermen, Lumberjacks, and Beaver Trappers. The environmental movement spearheaded by the Sierra Club succeeded in shutting those industries down. But then…

          A group of entrepreneurial Cal Tech biochemists, flush with cash from Orange Sunshine LSD sales but bored with California’s always sunny weather, were looking for a morose, severe climate. And Portland, where it rains more than Ireland and the suicide rates are even higher, seemed perfect. However…

          Unable to suppress their invention genes, the young scientists came up with a sexual aid that many believed would take market share away from Ben-Wa balls and strap-on dildoes. Namely, a condom that smelled, tasted, and even looked (when fully engorged) like a generous slab of Country Smoked Bacon.

          Apart from the obvious novelty niche, social scientists saw bacon-flavored condoms as a liberating ‘gateway’ sexual aid. They theorized that fiercely homophobic males living in arctic base stations or lumber camps, after 4 or 5 too many beers, might be persuaded to suck a dick if it looked and tasted like bacon (“Bet you can’t suck just one!”).  Naturally, these findings fed the excitement of Portland’s nascent but growing gay investment community. Stock shares zoomed skyward…life was good. That is, until the horrifying event that shook the male population to its core. 

June 6, 1983, Point Dume Malibu, California:

          It was a bright beach morning without a hint of June fog, and Mr. (name withheld due to common decency) was hanging out in the doorway of his Air Stream after an all-night tussle with his newlywed bride. He was still in a semi-flaccid state, proudly sporting a Bacon Boner XL (branding was still in the focus group stage), when our victim was attacked by a flock of seagulls unable to differentiate between where the bacon condom ended and where the man’s dick began. According to unsubstantiated reports, which nevertheless became a legend, six inches of the man’s shaft coated in seagull saliva splattered a minute later on the windshield of a Lincoln Continental speeding along on the Pacific Coast Highway with two elderly ladies in the front seat. The fateful words that sealed the fate of the bacon condom craze?

                      “Did you happen to notice the size of the dick on that bug, Edith?”

Lesson : Laughter Is Always Appropriate, Unless You're Selling Sex Aids

The End

BY: William Benson Huber 

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