Late yesterday afternoon, while completing a rite of transit from one time eating, money producing icebox to the next, I saw the strangest thing...
For two block afterwards, I couldn't speak, unable to process the vision. Then the floodgates opened and I couldn't stop laughing. I was reminded just how I'm going to miss Portland.
A man, grinning like the cat who had recently digested the mouse and the cheese, was strolling down the sidewalk near Hawthorne and 12th. ['not an unusual sight on a bright and cheerful 85 degree day,' you claim]
Less than two hundred years ago [a blink in the scope of history], this man's attire was quite fashionable, particularly in this part of the country. [though i believe that the preferred material was tanned buffalo hide rather than terry-cloth]
His costume consisted of two terry-cloth towels, strategically positioned to precede and follow his person closely, though not cramping his style side-wise. And the rest of his body, void of clothing, was accessorized only with mud/brown paint handprints.
Traditional headdress not included.
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