King St. John's Jim

The James John Cafe ran out of hollandaise sauce. Rats. The eggs benedict are fit for a pope. Wahh, my stomach cries for comfort food, which is a no-brainer: I order the awesome chops. Mmm, very tasty. It’s Sunday in October and the weather in St. John’s today has the trademark stamp of San Francisco’s bone chilling Summers. This is the kind of day that you think twice about closing a door because the great refrigerator light in the sky might go out.

The kind of day that speaks of Winter’s ice slosh in the socks. The G.I. Bill paid for my two degrees in Computer Science, but without much left over for shoes, creating a huge gap in my impoverished student armor against the half-frozen slop that covered the ground. A little salted ice between the toes can really make a boring lecture intolerable.

I got better shoes now. Some others here in St. John’s don’t. Bill, The G.I., doesn’t pay for shoes either, Maybe that’s what we need.Shoes for Industry. A catchy slogan.

I mentioned theTown Councilhad begun to appreciate Normalcy. I had a chance to talk to the head of the Council: Bambi Brew. Bambi is a young buck with a broken nose, antlers and a ‘50’s flattop haircut, and started the conversation by noting: "Hey, I know: Bambi. It’s really a man’s name… Watchthe movie." Other than that, the interview went, well, normally. Technically, I am still interviewing him, the interview is not over until we reachOregon State Consensus. Another catchy slogan.

Roger, the retired Navy guy over at 3 Gunas Lp came in early this morning from out of town, He field-stripped his Harley, applied extra coats of gun oil on every part, restored calm to the neighborhood and raised his count of Normal Days up to 16. He has an appointment tomorrow to have his fingerprints re-certified.

Tommy, at the same address, had ridden his 1200cc crotch-rocket up the walkway to each door distributing literature for the Church of Who Gives a Fuck. "Honey, will you get the door? Ask him if it’s terror or temptation today." From what I’m told, the WGAF may be Portland’s biggest church. It does have a catchy slogan.