The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Oh, to know what’s going on in the boy’s head: On a certain afternoon a few days back the Jr. VP decided that he needed to be wearing his Dalmatian Halloween costume. This seemed to put him in the mood to fight, so he trotted over to the cupboard, got out his gloves, and wanted to go. Show me whatchoo got, Daddy!

As the boy soon found out, what I got is that I fight dirty. When you are 2.4 years old there is no defense against a pinch to the neck from Mr. Spock (aka Daddy) followed up with the delivery a severe boy-belly shake. I had him whimpering like a little puppy. At least I didn’t pull his tail — now that would have been really mean.

Memorial Day weekend at the HQ. So much beer and sausage. And cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes. God Bless America and our veterans. In your face, other countries!

The Chief Photographer and the Jr. VP playing behind the HQ. Jr Vp: You mean I can shoot bubbles at the Chief Photographer with my monster bubble gun and make the monster bite him? Sign me up. And why is this insane man eating the bubbles?

Did I mention that we had cupcakes? Who would have guessed that the boy would love them so? If only his mouth was a little bigger, he could eat them the same way Daddy does: in one bite, frosting side first. Good effort though.

This is from earlier in the day when the boys were horsing around in the HQ. Literally: this is the Jr. VP riding the “Daddy-horse” as he calls it. The Daddy-horse usually bucks pretty quickly, since the Daddy-horse’s knees don’t really appreciate this particular game. Daddy’s ribs and back aren’t especially fond of this one either; Stinkboy is not really what you would call “delicately put together” or even “within his proper weight range” right now.

At least the lad wasn’t wearing spurs.

The CEO would like to give a Memorial Day shout-out to the official armed forces member of Kjel.org: Hooray for Lt. Dan! The CEO would pay his taxes with a smile if I could insist that all that money go to clothe, feed, house, fuel and arm one Lt. Dan as he fights for truth, justice and the American Way. Otherwise Uncle Sam can choke on it.

Today I walked into a store, mosied on over to the meat counter, looked at what was on display, caught the attention of the clerk, and uttered the following words: Your sausage. I’ll take all of it. The beer, too.

It was a good day.

This, ladies and gentlemen, defines a group of things the CEO mentally classifies as “some crazy shit“. Wow:

Adam and Eve in the Land of the Dinosaurs
PETERSBURG, Ky. — The entrance gates here are topped with metallic Stegosauruses. The grounds include a giant tyrannosaur standing amid the trees, and a stone-lined lobby sports varied sauropods. It could be like any other natural history museum, luring families with the promise of immense fossils and dinosaur adventures. But step a little farther into the entrance hall, and you come upon a pastoral scene undreamt of by any natural history museum. Two prehistoric children play near a burbling waterfall, thoroughly at home in the natural world. Dinosaurs cavort nearby, their animatronic mechanisms turning them into alluring companions, their gaping mouths seeming not threatening, but almost welcoming, as an Apatosaurus munches on leaves a few yards away. . .

For here at the $27 million Creation Museum, which opens on May 28 (just a short drive from the Cincinnati-Northern Kentucky International Airport), this pastoral scene is a glimpse of the world just after the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, in which dinosaurs are still apparently as herbivorous as humans, and all are enjoying a little calm in the days after the fall. It also serves as a vivid introduction to the sheer weirdness and daring of this museum created by the Answers in Genesis ministry that combines displays of extraordinary nautilus shell fossils and biblical tableaus, celebrations of natural wonders and allusions to human sin. Evolution gets its continual comeuppance, while biblical revelations are treated as gospel.

Last night while making dinner (a panko encrusted salmon filet), a disturbing thought occurred to me: the Japanese are way ahead of us in bread crumb technology. When did this happen? Has it always been like this, or did they open up a bread crumb gap at some time in the recent past? I think I’ll write a letter to the president. And don’t get me started on the muffin and toast inequalities we’ve suffered under for so long with England and France.

Welcome to Daddy is an idiot, part 312: yesterday afternoon when I got the boy from “school” I picked up a sweatshirt on the way out that I could have sworn belonged to the lad. It did not. This is nowhere close to the first time that I’ve done this. I typically leave it to the CFO to sort out these sorts of things for me after the fact; she’s had a lot of practice.

Speaking of cold, the Jr VP invented a new game for himself last night: see how many times he can put an ice cube in his mouth and then remove it before the cube melts. This is tougher than it sounds because you have to factor in that the lad is shaking with laughter as he attempts it. If he thinks that is fun, it should only be short jump for him to see how fun it could be to put an ice cube down Mommy’s shirt when she’s least expecting it. Maybe I’ll model that behavior for him when we get home tonight.

Dear Superman,

Could you fly around the earth and make it spin faster to speed up time, sort of the reverse of what you did at the end of Superman: The Movie? If you could move it up to late Friday I for one would really appreciate it. Thanks in advance,

Your pal,

The CEO

The CEO’s California Odyssey.

Kjel.org drove to Bellevue Thursday afternoon, and hung with the CEO’s parents while the Jr. VP got used to playing with the grandparents and being at their house instead of the HQ. It took him all of about 90 seconds. Friday morning we said our goodbyes to Jr and headed to Sea-Tac for our flight to the City of Angels. On check-in the CFO was damn smooth and got us seats right behind the bulkhead. It wasn’t quite the first class section, but I could have spit on the folks in first class if I’d wanted to. I didn’t want to.

I love LA. (We love it!)

At LAX we met up with the CFO’s brother and his date, and then got our rental car (a fresh Ford Taurus) and headed out to our hotel in Santa Monica. My request that we take a detour through Compton was turned down. Can’t we have at least one vacation that doesn’t involve gang violence or organized crime? the CFO pleaded. I gave in, figuring I should humor the little lady this time around. She is almost eight months pregnant after all.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Our hotel on the beach: Le Merigot

Arrival at the hotel was quite nice. Four doormen greeted us as we pulled in and immediately whisked our luggage to our rooms and our car to the hotel’s underground garage. I gave one of them a buck and told him to share it with his friends. Soon enough, we were ensconced in our room, which, although the least expensive room there, still had a little bit of an ocean view.

Our room had some excellent features aside from the view.

True luxury:

You know you’re in a nice hotel when one has the ability to order room service while they’re on the can. Could you send up a roast beef sandwich please? All of a sudden I’m starving. The phone had all the modern features: at one point late in the afternoon I really wanted to set up a conference call with the Chiefs Sniper and Photographer to talk about, uh, stuff. The moment got away from me though and the magic was gone. I really should have called them.

Finally, dinner.

Friday night was the rehearsal dinner at a nearby restaurant . Even though we had the car we determined that taking a cab was cheaper once parking was factored in. Upon arrival we learned that free valet parking at the dinner was part of the package. Silly Oregon hicks, we should have known that. Anyway, the pre-dinner socializing was none too bad, the after dinner speeches were both amusing and heartfelt, and the dinner itself was superb (I had a filet cooked perfectly: bleu) accompanied by an elegant yet still somewhat sassy Châteauneuf-du-Pape. I would have stolen four bottles of it I’d had had a clean getaway at my disposal. The CFO refused to cover for me so here I am now, Châteauneuf-du-Pape-less. Even with that setback, still a fine evening.

The meal after breakfast but before lunch.

Saturday morning we set out for a brunch at the mother of the groom’s house, a lady who also just so happens to be the CFO’s aunt. She has a lovely and large home up in the hills, just a little bit north of UCLA. Above are but two pictures, one of the view from upstairs to the pool, the other from the pool looking back, just enough to give you a taste.

¡Tacos y burritos!

Brunch was lovely, but I was saving room for lunch itself: The CEO’s sister happens to currently be the LA rep for Kjel.org, so we were going to get some lunch together. She, me, her boyfriend and the CFO went out for tacos at a fun little outdoor restaurant in Santa Monica. It was nice to see her — she doesn’t get up north often enough for the CEO’s taste.

Isn’t this the neighborhood missing a Fresh Prince?

Saturday evening we went to the wedding. It was outside in an awesome garden at the Hotel Bel-Air. The ceremony looked like something out of a movie.

Your order? Very good sir.

Afterwards we had cocktails outside as the band played in the background, then we retired to the main hall for dinner. Sensational food again: the CEO had Chilean Sea bass, along with many other tasty side dishes, and of an upfront yet vaguely reticent little Bordeaux. There was a full band (about 8 people) playing during dinner and afterwards. Their guy on the piano was a black guy with big sunglasses; he looked a little like Stevie Wonder. It turned out that he was also (supposedly) blind. The CFO disagrees but I still think he was faking it. The band was good, the dinner was good, and all in all a fine time was had by all.

Sunday morning we got to LAX early for our flight home. The flight was sold out and I didn’t have a seat assignment when I got to the gate; as it turns out the CFO and I were not going to sit together on the flight. Suck.

The CEO is in no place to ever make a fat joke.

You know how when you are waiting for a plane to board you eyeball all the other people waiting and think about which of them you most do not want to sit by? I located that person pretty quickly: a Chris Farley-right-before-he-died sized gentleman, traveling with his also oversize wife; she was the black bear to his grizzly. Yikes. I quickly put them out of my mind and waited for the plane. When it was time to board I dillydallied and got on almost last, since I had no carry on baggage and prefer to sit on any plane for the least amount of time possible. I go through the door, take the right turn and start scanning down the aisle looking for my assigned seat. CEO’s eyes: Hey look! The only empty seat left in the cabin is that aisle seat right up ahead. And look who is in the middle seat, it’s Gentle Ben, from the waiting room! CEO’s brain: Fuck you, stupid poetic justice! I wedged myself into the seat, thinking about the shoehorn I stole from Le Merigot in my luggage, and wishing I’d carried it on. Once in, at least I did have the aisle seat, so I could lean way out into it and get a little extra room. The arm rest had to remain up because Ben couldn’t fit in the seat otherwise; my entire left side was sweaty when we finally landed in Seattle. Coincidence? I think not.

No!!!!!!

The Jr. VP was a little bit happy to see us it seemed (maybe he was faking it?), but the lad was not at all happy to leave Bellevue and his grandparents. No Portland!! Bellevue!! He slept and/or yelled during the entire drive to Portland on Sunday afternoon. Between that and the monsoons that fell, it was a great drive. Awesome even. After some calculations I decided on 90 mph: the faster I go, the faster Kjel.org is home. It worked, and we are back at the HQ. I for one don’t mind telling you that I’m glad my adventurin days are at an end, for now anyway.

It wouldn’t matter if Old Spice smells like yak urine: this ad will move product. The CEO might even buy some, and yes, I am the highly suggestible type. Why do ask? Cologne and/or bodyspray goes against my usual goal regarding smells emanating from my person (ie: minimize them to the greatest extent possible), but maybe it’s time to accept that there are certain heights in this world that the CEO will just never be able to scale. Perhaps effective camouflage is in fact better than ineffective concealment? We’ll see. Smell you later.

Yesterday after I picked him up from “school” the Jr. VP and I had an argument. It lasted pretty much the whole way home. The point of contention? Who, really, was Daddy? He started the whole thing by loudly and proudly exclaiming “I’m Daddy!” as we were pulling out of the parking lot. I countered with a clever “No, I’m Daddy.” He shot back with “I’m Daddy!!!” “Look Stinkboy, I know Daddy, and you sir, you are no Daddy.” “I’M DADDY!!!!” Touche. We continued in this vein for 10 minutes of so. I finally conceded that he was in fact Daddy, but then I claimed to be Mommy. That, thankfully, confused and shut him up for a while.

Kjel.org is headed up to Seattle this afternoon, and then on the Los Angeles, so don’t expect much here for a few days. Like you would anyway.

Lake Stevens teacher on leave after shooting remark
A Lake Stevens high-school teacher is being investigated by the school district after students say he told them he should take anyone who was talking in class and line them up against a wall and shoot them. The Lake Stevens School District said it placed the teacher on paid administrative leave and launched an investigation Tuesday after the mother of one of the students complained to the school principal. She said her daughter was berated in class Monday for not paying attention, and when some other students came to her defense, the teacher made his remark.

How the Chief Educator still has a job is one of the great mysteries of our time. Threaten to shoot the kids? Hell, I have it on good authority that the Chief Educator has actually fired warning shots in the air to get a kid’s attention in class. And let’s not even talk about the incident last year with the fire hose, or the year before with the Indian burns.

In the past the CFO and I have had a tough time talking. It’s like we just never had a place for it. Well, lucky for us, the city of Portland Parks Department is stepping in to help us out. From the Boregonian a few days back:

West Portland Park neighborhood finally getting … a park
It may be called the West Portland Park neighborhood, but it’s never had its own park. Until now. Holly Farm Park is under construction in the Southwest Portland neighborhood, set for completion July 1. The 1.7-acre park will have a large meadow, playground equipment, a small skate area and a paved “talking circle.”

Um, honey, can I talk to you? Yes. Yes you can. To the talking circle! I think that’s it there in the upper left. Maybe she and I can skateboard a little bit after we talk too.

Several months back I thought Hmm, I think me and the little lady might like to take in an M’s game sometime in May. I looked at the schedule. Hey, decent seats are available for the game May 12th against the Yankees. It’s a 7:00 game on Saturday so that means we can leave Portland late Sat morning, drop off the boy in Bellevue with plenty of time to spare, and then arrive at the ballpark with no worries. It’ll be great. Awesome, even.

As I should have foreseen when I bought the tickets, the weekend as planned got away from me. I did not realize at the time that Sunday the 13th was Mothers Day. As the kids say, my bad. What was going to be a nice little trip up to Seattle to see a baseball game quickly ballooned into two separate Mothers Day brunches (Sat and Sun) and an afternoon of helping my parents get ready to move. Yay for carrying heavy things and going to the dump! I got to drive north out of Portland at rush hour on Friday instead of Saturday morning, so that was big plus too.

On top of it all the game sucked: the Mariners were out of it by about the 4th pitch, and it never felt like they were coming back. Plus I missed the only runs the Mariners scored because of the mental defectives operating the Papa Johns pizza concession at Safeco. A tip for the management: if your two primary products are pizza and beer, is it not likely that your patrons will often want one of each? You operate six cash registrars. Operating those registrars on Saturday night were five 16 year old girls, and one very old guy with a cane. The young ladies were prevented by law from selling beer to anyone. As such, the old guy pretty much was responsible for every transaction. The line moved slower even than you might think. Also, the first time I was in line it turned out that the credit card machines were not working. A sign or announcement to that effect before I pointlessly waited 15 minutes in line would have been much appreciated.

The best parts of the game were the beers before it with the Chiefs Educator and Bride who happened to be at same game, and the drinks with them afterwards in their hotel’s bar. And discussing with them the articles of clothing that are shared by the CEO and the CFO.

The drive back to Portland was uneventful, except for the hour long tantrum the boy decided to throw. He really, really, wanted to be at the HQ already. I had the Suby up to about 90 from Longview onward. The CEO’s mouth: I’ll have you home soon, Stinkboy! CEO’s brain: if I don’t kill the lot of us. We made it home safe and sound, and now get to face a new week. Or at least part of a week: we leave again for Seattle Thursday so that we can fly to L.A. Friday so that on Saturday we can attend the wedding of two people I don’t really know, then fly back to Seattle Sunday morning so I can drive to Portland Sunday afternoon. Fu. . . . n

I was actually hoping for Level 3, but what can you do?

The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

I sure am glad that Kjel.org isn’t going on an Alaskan cruise any time soon. It just sounds too dangerous:

Seattle-based cruise ship hits rock near Juneau
JUNEAU, Alaska — A Seattle-based cruise ship ran aground 49 miles west of Juneau near Hanus Reef in Lynn Canal at about 2 a.m. today, the Coast Guard reported, and all passengers were safely taken aboard other vessels. Ann Marie Ricard, a spokeswoman for Majestic America Line, said all passengers had been evacuated from the Empress of the North and that the ship was on its way back to Juneau under its own power for a damage assessment. The passengers were on the second day of a seven-day cruise when the ship ran aground, she said.

I bet that water is chilly.

Why I get a little nervous when the Jr. VP insists on yelling “Hi! Hi! Hola! Hola!” to every person he meets:

Police: Hammer attack suspect previously hit child
PORTLAND, Ore. - A man charged with trying to kill a woman with a hammer at a Beaverton Fred Meyer over the weekend had previously been in court for striking a 6-year-old in the throat, police said Monday . . . On Monday police released more information about Osterholme’s background. According to police, he was arrested at his Beaverton apartment in May 2002 in connection with the striking of a 6-year-old boy. Police said the boy was playing outside in the apartment complex’s parking lot when he walked up to Osterholme to say hello. Police said Osterholme apparently swore at the boy and then hit the youth in the throat with what police described as a “judo-style chop.”

On the other hand though, if I had seen that happen to the Jr. VP I would have put aside my personal prohibition against murdering people (and would have repeatedly slammed a car door into that bastard’s head, most likely) and that poor Beaverton woman would still be fine today.

The folks in Bellevue and Seattle expect to see some new tricks from the Jr. VP, even beyond his newfound dance moves. To that end I’m trying to teach him a few things, both kissing related. First off, I think it would be funny if he were to kiss his grandma’s hand when they meet, Pepe Le Pew style. This is tougher to teach than you might think, mainly because the lad likes to bite and we can’t have him biting a certain someone’s hand, especially on Mothers Day.

Second, in the past I’ve tried teach the lad to do stuff that warns his playmates of an impending attack. I taught him the phrase “Watch Out Mommy!” and he even uses it once in a while before he does something dangerous to the CFO. In that vein I am going to try to get him to always flex and “kiss his guns” before launching an attack of any sort. It’ll be funny and useful, letting his potential victims know that an assault is inbound.

Also, if you have 5 minutes to kill I highly recommend this clip. It has three of my favorite things: Eric Cartman, Slayer, and hippies getting dismembered.

Kjel.org is headed to Bellevue and Seattle this weekend to see the Moms and to see the Mariners. Hopefully neither of the two suck while we are up there.

Oddly enough, the Chiefs Bride and Educator will be at the same baseball game we are going to. They claim this was not planned. It’s like they’re following us or something. Not like I won’t drink pre-game beer(s) with them anyway. If they happen to be in LA two weeks from now I am going to be a little weirded out.

Also, do you know what day it is tomorrow?

The Jr VP likes to dance. The music doesn’t matter: it can be Jojo the clown, the Misfits, or a McDonalds ad on TV. The boy just likes to get down. As such I’ve tried to help him in his dance endeavors. I’ve taught him to do a version of the MC Hammer dance, where he spreads his legs and then kinda shuffles along sideways. Break it down! Duh duh duh duh na duh duh na duh duh duh na duh duh duh na da - Stop! Stinkboy time! Hopefully the lad never wants to wear parachute pants, but if he does, at least I’ll know why.

My version of Mr. Hammer’s dance and a little dance I call The Happy Robot are pretty much the only two dances I know well enough to teach. Probably better for him in the long run. And the short and medium run too for that matter.

This afternoon I was in a meeting where a series of charts and graphs were projected onto a large screen. These particular visual aids consisted primarily of two trend lines with certain benchmarks also indicated. The lines were blue and purple; the backgrounds in the slides were green. Apparently everyone else there could differentiate those colors. I could not.

I didn’t contribute much to that meeting, but at least I was able to nod at the right points (ie when everyone else did) and look like I was getting something out of it. I think my secret is still safe.

Good gravy it is tough to be inside right now. I should have faked an injury and stayed home today. The Jr VP and I should be at a park somewhere, playing on slides and shrieking with glee. At least at his school there is a nice big fenced backyard where the lad and his pals usually play when it is sunny. Jr. has a good time with the other kids he hangs out with, and I think he likes making jokes when he’s with them. Example: the other day when I picked him up he looked at me, got a huge grin on his face, and shouted Mommy! Mommy! He and his cronies proceeded to crack up. Good one, boy. Now get in the car.

I don’t know that I see the Jr. VP with a future as an railroad designer: note that his track design would likely result in horrific derailments and passenger injury, or at least severe queasiness from all aboard due to all those unnecessary curves.

Looking good, Stinkboy! Feeling good, Daddy!

Mean Daddy update: the boy asked me the other day for money to buy a Mothers Day present for the CFO. I gave him $5 and told him I expected change. A lot of change.

This story creeps out the CFO beyond measure. I’m happy to include it here for her and everyone else’s benefit:

ALBANY, Ore. (AP) _ These guys weren’t exactly Snap, Crackle and Pop. What began as a faint popping in a 9-year-old boy’s ear _ ‘’like Rice Krispies'’ _ ended up as an earache, and the doctor’s diagnosis was that a pair of spiders made a home in the ear. ‘’They were walking on my eardrums,'’ Jesse Courtney said. One of the spiders was still alive after the doctor flushed the fourth-grader’s left ear canal. His mother, Diane Courtney, said her son insisted he kept hearing a faint popping in his ear _ ‘’like Rice Krispies.'’ Dr. David Irvine said it looked like the boy had something in his ear when he examined him. When he irrigated the ear, the first spider came out, dead. The other spider took a second dousing before it emerged, still alive. Both were about the size of a pencil eraser. Jesse was given the spiders _ now both dead _ as a souvenir. He has taken them to school and his mother has taken them to work. ‘’It was real interesting, ‘cause, two spiders in my ear _ what next?'’ Jesse said.

The CEO hates clothes shopping. Of things I wear that were actually paid for, the vast majority were purchased over the internet. Sometimes though, it just can’t be helped. And the CEO is in a spot where it can’t: I have a wedding in LA to attend in a few weeks, and I don’t currently own pants that are fancy enough for the occasion.

I learned a while ago that when I do actually need to get something nice, don’t skimp. So Sunday morning I took myself to the Washington Square Nordstrom and put myself in their capable hands. The people working in the Men’s Fine Furnishing department are absolute pros with the clothes, but also very adept at making you feel like a gentleman. In most parts of Nordstrom I am fairly out of my element anyway, but that particular corner? It’s like a different world. I was called “sir” more times than I can recall, and this time it wasn’t even preceded with “please sit down,” or “you’re making a scene.”

The sales lady realized immediately that I had no idea what I really wanted nor even what I was looking at. Flat front or pleated, sir? Umm. . . which do you like better? That exchange pretty much set the tone for our transaction. She quickly steered me toward a couple of pairs of acceptable fancy pants, and without measuring me or asking my size she pulled the exactly correct one pair from the rack and then sent me to see the tailor. She instructed the tailor on the necessary changes (she jumped right in after hearing: Sir, how do you want cuff to break? Uh, normal?) and was good enough not to notice or at least comment on my expression as a small Korean woman was tugging at my crotch to ensure that the inseam hung correctly. Now that’s service.

Question: What does the CEO do when he is ordering dinner from Bamboo Grove over the internet and finds out that they will in fact deliver Kalua Pig on a Saturday?

The Jr. VP was impressed. And freaked out. And possibly a bit sad, as he realized what his future looked like. The lad and I have been talking about genetics lately.

It’s a drag that there is really no one at my office that I want a back rub from. Or should even ask for one. Again.

This morning at about 5:45. The Jr VP was wide awake and wanted to get up. I parked him on the couch to watch his friends Mickey, Goofy, and Donald, and laid down on the couch next to him. I promptly fell asleep. I suspect that while I was asleep Jr. played with me like a human doll, re-arranging my limbs into awkward positions, and possibly kicking me a few times. Or maybe the fact that I fell asleep with my head weirdly positioned on half a pillow might be to blame. Anyhoo, I was sore when I woke up, and I’m sore now. I think a little self medication might be in order when I get home tonight. I am my own doctor after all.

The Chief Educator has seemed pretty flush lately. I wonder if he too is making a few bucks on the side?

HILLSBORO, Ore. - A first-grade teacher in Hillsboro is accused of trying to sell a student’s coat on eBay. . . The teacher was arrested Feb. 6 after the mother of a third-grader at the school complained to school officials and Hillsboro police. The mother said she went shopping for a replacement jacket on eBay after her daughter’s Columbia Sportswear jacket disappeared and did not show up in the school’s lost and found. The mother found a seemingly identical coat on eBay and noticed that the seller was from Hillsboro. The mother alerted another bidder that the coat might be stolen, and the other bidder relayed the information to the seller, Logan. Police said Logan asked the other bidder to outbid the girl’s mother. Logan was put on leave a day after her arrest. She denies stealing the coat, saying she got it from a lost-and-found, said Hillsboro police Cmdr. Chris Skinner.

Monday night I was finally ready for hamburgers again. I made bacon-swiss-mushroom burgers similar to the one that nearly killed me last week, but this time made at a much more reasonable size. Burger, IPA, and a side of tots: we’re eating well at the Kjel.org HQ.

Look at that thing. I tell ya people, we live in the best damn country in the history of the world.

One thing I really dislike about my new office is that the windows don’t open. If they did, I’d have a clear field of fire:

May Day marchers to make their way through downtown Portland
PORTLAND, Ore. - Advocates for worker’s rights and immigration reform plan to march in downtown Portland on Tuesday for the annual May Day rally. The rally is a permitted event and will begin at 4 p.m. in the South Park Blocks (at Southwest Park and Salmon) with marchers winding their way through downtown Portland. Back in 2000, police and activists clashed during that year’s rally and two dozen people were arrested. However, police expect this year’s event will be much calmer.

Until I try to drive home anyway. At that point all bets are off.