My hometown, Portland, Oregon, is a mess. It had an international reputation for its great restaurants, but the Coronavirus screwed that up when indoor dining went south. Portland had a reputation for compassionate treatment of people down on their luck, so hundreds (maybe thousands) of life's punching bags came to River City to sample its hospitality. They didn't leave.
Activities of right-wing terrorists and incidents of police brutality in cities across America with racial overtones brought protesters into the streets and local thugs joined the party using that army of marching protestors as a cover for vandalizing and looting Portland buildings. Portland government response to the civil disorder was one of pathetic weakness and disorganization.
The traumatic impact on the economy dealt by the raging spread of COVID-19 only compounded the homeless issue. Portland's metro area today is blighted by hundreds of homeless encampments that continue to defy any way to deal with their existence. Campers converted neighborhood lawns into public toilets and stole anything that wasn't bolted down. Then they leave behind stinking mounds of garbage when they move to new plots.
So I take in all this civic distress from my third floor apartment overlooking the MAX Light Rail line that facilitates my occasional escape from cell 309. Our departed Commander in Chief would say it is what it is, and maybe he would be right because no one has come up with a plan to solve the growing disaster. It is not fair to ask Portland property owners or local businesses to pick up the tab for supporting these squatters and their friends from Floyds Knobs, Indiana. It's a national problem and needs to be addressed as such.
As for me, I'm alright, Jack.
