A Bridge Too Scar: Whitewashing History
TriMet is the public agency that provides transportation services (commuter rail, light rail, bus and streetcar) for most of the Portland, Oregon, metropolitan area.
That opening line just screams excitement, right? Stay with me, intrepid reader. We are embarking on a torrid journey of governmental lunacy and polishing turds. Remember, it’s important for us lowly idiots to know how things really work.
This organization really got on my radar recently during the naming process for a new bridge spanning the mighty piranha-filled Willamette River that’s currently under construction. Because, as we all know, the most important characteristic about a bridge is its name. This is followed closely by how many years of neglect it takes before it fails with lots of people on it. Let’s face it. Maintenance is not exactly humanity’s strong suit.
The TriMet decided to enlist the public’s help in naming the bridge. And that’s where things decidedly jumped the rails. And I’m here to tell you about it because, amazingly, their own official website has whitewashed the whole thing from history. It’s almost like it never happened…
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Sometimes a negative thought can be eclipsed by an even more negative one. I call this phenomenon “normal reality.” It turns out that negative thoughts are stackable, much like little plastic block toys. Your mileage may vary.
My wife and I are new to the big city. Apparently we have a certain look that tells the outside world, “Listen up! Target these motherfuckers. They are easy prey. They are soft marks. Easy fish to fry. Hit them up with your broken car stories, requests for loose change, and sponsoring sadly unfortunately children around the world for only $7 a week.”
Too bad my math skills alerted me to the fact that “only” $7 a week is the same as $364 a year. Sorry, I don’t have time at the moment to hand over my wallet (and then some) to a perfect stranger no matter how friendly and yet pushy they are.
So we have a look that allows the vultures, leeches and do-gooders zoom in on us like a drone strike on an American citizen peacefully protesting a big bank. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do about that. Maybe fedoras would function as riffraff repellent and/or pass us off as locals?
Having that look is mostly a pain in the ass but the other day it may have saved us $175. As always, my negativity played a part.
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