Kobe or not Kobe
Wrong Kobe, in more ways than one.
The signs were there, if one was enlightened enough to see them. You know you’re in a classy restaurant when the waiter hands you a game piece that reads “DO NOT OPEN” and tells you that you just might win $25,000. Also, this meal was going to be a golden opportunity to earn “triple points.”
Yep. Classy. No John Dory. No risotto. No Gordon Ramsay. Just class.
I ordered the “signature” steak but, alas, it was a rip off. There wasn’t even any writing on it!
I was about to leave to find a real restaurant that served a taco with a strip of bacon or “mighty” wings, but then I noticed something else on the menu.
A “Kobe” burger.
Shit. They sure know how to bring the full-court press. My buttocks clenched, which is just about the only defensive play I know.
Kobe.
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Khan With The Wind
I sit here, my tushy gleefully ensconced in a chair of rich, Corinthian leather, in the mood to share a story that really blows. -Ed
It’s been about eight months since we moved to the big, big city of Portland, Oregon. The snow storm was fun. Sure, it wasn’t the 50′ of being buried alive of my dreams, but it was cute. We spent seven cozy days “trapped” in our home.
Then came the wind.
Last night the wind mercilessly ravaged our house. As much as I’m loathe to consider any weather-related thought, it finally crossed my mind: Jeez, when is the wind going to die down?
Sure, I enjoy as much as the next person finding my garbage cans tossed about and the contents strewn about the neighborhood. Who doesn’t? But even that can eventually get old.
What gives? Is this typical for Rip City? Or is it something new, perhaps a harbinger of doom?
I’m betting on the latter. Take off your helmet, stay awhile and listen. Lend me your ears because I’ve got some of the indigenous lifeforms ready to help us bore down into the story.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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