Alarming moment while applying make up today.

It's the only time I scrutinize my appearance and I noticed some neck contusions. Bubo's? 
I asked Olive to look. She said she had seen this affliction on me many times before. "Those are hickeys I gave you last night."
Her story checked out.

Portland sucks at mask.

Portland sucks at mask. We were just at a BLM protest. Almost everyone had masks. As we marched I noticed that almost nobody else had masks.
Bars, diners, basketball courts, bus stops no masks. Lots of crowds but zero masks. I guess if you care enough to stand up for your neighbors then chances are you also care enough to strap on a mask.
This makes me really respect folks who rock masks all day while decrying them as pointless and complaining the whole time. I actually respect them more than regular folks (even activists) who are too full of themselves to keep everyone safe.
If you are an activist and you approach me with your nose poking out of a mask I will throw rocks at you. It's not personal just business. I live around a lot of older folks and nothing you are trying to tell me is worth losing them.
Lots of people cheered us on though. Portland is good at Black Lives Matter.
It's written on signs in thousands of yards and windows, It was neat seeing people call their kids to witness civic action. Many people dropped what they were doing and joined us. I saw folks had protest signs ready by the door like they were skateboards.
It was funny that the haters were parodies of themselves. Exactly who you would expect.
The BBQ Becky type standing there angrily with the phone, the crew-cut bathrobed boomer in the land yacht fully enraged and clearly only in his car to follow the protest and menace the rear guard (including Olive).
Today I saw a lot of heroic people putting themselves in harm's way to keep the folks safe.
One passing stranger kind of jack-knifed their car in such a way that another driver who was road raging couldn't run over everyone.
They only had to wait about 5 min. for the group to cross the street, No idea why so many people were so triggered.
The news was asking us questions. We were trying to give a lot of non answers because our words have been spun before. I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed one of them actually corking traffic with us. respect.
Olive was extraordinarily brave today btw.
And the award for funniest, awful, moronic comment was one I saw on another news coverage "Why don't those BLM people know Jesus?" HAHAHA! What a rube. You get the steaming, still warm, "Part of the problem" prize. :)

Happy Birthday Scarlet!

Last week I got the most adorable email ever. "Hi I'm Scarlet, I'm almost 8 years old and all I want for my birthday is some Olive and Dingo dolls. My Mom said she would get them for me if I found you. Please tell me how to get dolls. Scarlet." That was the most charming Email I ever opened. Olive was impressed and made time to build these for her. I asked Scarlet what colors she liked and she replied "I like Space" We didn't have a lot of space themed fabric. Olive ended up butchering her own cosmic mini-skirt to make the booties and my hat band. I love that Olive cares most for the kid enjoying the dolls. Now the fun part. Delivering the dolls via tallbike. WooHoo! Happy Birthday Scarlet!

I hope one day when Scarlet is in her 50's she lovingly pulls these dolls out of a box in the back of the closet. She smiles at us reminiscing about her childhood in Portland. Remembering the adventures she took us on. Then she introduces us to her almost 8 year old grand kid who treats us gingerly like the relics we have become.

Last night there was a bunch of sporadic automatic gun fire as people were "settling in" to the new Portland.

 My son and I were playing Civ4. He suddenly looked up then we both hit the floor. 
"What is that Dad." I said "That's close sporadic machine gun fire followed by a chorus of screaming and car tires screeching my boy." 
He egressed to the back of the house to alert Olive (who didn't care). 
When he came back I had to inform him that he grew up around gun battles he just never noticed. One time someone riddled the house across the street with a Kalashnikov and he slept right through it. 
I told him not to fear. "Your Texan Dad will protect you from anything and I don't even need a gun. But a good rule of thumb is If you see me or the dog hiding or running away then that's a great cue for you to do the same. 
Also we don't have a dog so that would be you in that roll anyway. 
I turned the cop radio on and hilariously learned that the citizen version comes with ads now. 
I got to hear a jingly Burgerville commercial before finding out nothing.

I won't tell on you.

My partner is a fine communicator. She asks lots of questions and makes lots of statements. Her worldview and motives are crisp and clear. Me notsomuch. I'm more underground, nebulous, esoteric.
I got a lot of "security culture" ingrained from my background. Hiding in plain sight is the whole reason to be a clownarchist. Now that we are parlaying a lot of masks it's evident that I need to up my game.
Or stop taking mask orders.
Olive will ask "What's their name?" I don't know so I shrug. "You never asked a name?" Nope. Nonna my beezwax. If they don't tell me, I'm not asking.
If anyone else asks their name I'm sure not gonna be the one giving them up. See the system works.
I will get them their masks no matter what. Still to be a better huzbind I'm working on opening up.
The ancients of Byzantium kept the secret of Naptha (greek fire) so well they forgot it resulting in them losing Constantinople and having their asses handed to them by the Arabs.
I recognize that sometimes I look like a donkey when I keep too many secrets. Her: "What would you like for dinner hon?" Me: "Who's asking?"

Sometimes we accidentally make a scene. 

I will be leaving a crowded room and Olive will innocently ask "Where are you going?" 

I freeze like the cops are banging on the door. 

People notice. 

Now everyone is looking at me and all I can think of is "I'm certainly not about to tell this whole room where I'm going." 

So I end up going to the bathroom rather than smoking weed by the dumpster. I'm not complaining, it keeps me regular.

We did a gig near a troop of Girl Scouts once.

We did a gig near a troop of Girl Scouts once. They set up cookie station after us.
Eavesdropping on them getting started I was delighted to hear them delegate and make a plan sans any adults.
They were a divers crowd, Karma free, the only agenda was making a living for the troop and it's causes.
I thought "This is it. This committee of 12 years olds are morally beyond reproach, Good at math/clear communication, totally obsessed with equity and committed to making the whole thing a gigglefest.
I would trust these kids with the most powerful military and our weakest citizens.
The executive branch should be like the band Menudo.

I visit F.R.Limbo most often.

There are three places I try not to go on Facebook. Occasionally I stumble on them and remember why. The "poke room" it's a sea of pokes.
Poking back and forth many times feels like cheating on my wife. The other spot is "Message requests" This is the most entertaining one because it's a lot of people griping me out, telling me to shut up and threatening me.
The last is the place I call "Friend request limbo" That's where people who friend request me but have no face on facebook.
A friend request with no accountability is like someone standing with 30 bumperstickers in front of their face asking "will you be my friend?"
I don't delete them if none of the bumperstickers are toxic. I know some folks have issues with their appearance. If all the pics are flowers and cats I assume it's an elderly person, mutilated doll heads and conspiracy theories don't get a pass.
I visit F.R.Limbo most often.
As soon as some of those folks post a pic of themselves and some kind of trail then I accept. They have to be accountable and I have to protect the 3000 sumthing Friends on my list.
If someone friend requests you and I am the only mutual friend please don't assume I know who it is. I
'm happy to tell ya what I know, just ask.

Teaching my son how dumb people can be I recounted Halloween 2001.

The tragic event at the Twin Towers had just happened. Totally unrelated we at the Clown House possessed a decommissioned hazmat suit.
I decided to rock it as my Halloween costume and go Trick or Treating. 
Exactly one block away I'm marching around in that hot thing and through the foggy windshield I saw three youths approaching from the mist. 
Yeah all three started working me over with skateboards. I was doubled over. sometimes flailing and attempting to hammer punch. 
Slowly I realized what they were yelling,
 "Fuck you terrorist!" 
Those dummies thought hazmat was a terrorist uniform. I managed to bumrush one into a power pole and they split. "See son, people are stOOpid. And I'm talking about myself. 
I should have known that would happen, If not that, something.
We lived in post 90's North Portland a month after 911" 
It's also possible that the ne'er-do-wels knew exactly who I was and were getting even for some perceived slight or hooliganism on my part.
 If that is the case, Well played young men.
This isn't a sad story. 
I thought the whole thing was hilarious.
 Texans think that kinna crap is funny sometimes. I still had a Corpus Christi accent.
Heads up: Hazmat suit=very good armor vs. skateboard attack.
 Laughing is bad though because I used up too much energy and breath and that's how those pricks got over on me in the first place.

Seriously, I was laughing my head off. I was proud to see our nation's dumbasses rising to the call to protect our country. Had I been a woefully ill-equipped terrorist they would be scoring for our team.