I Wear My Sunglasses All the Fuckin’ Time $1,000,000,000,000 Bankroll Sucka!

I wear my sunglasses whenever the fuck I want, know why? Cause I’m a big deal. There might be an avalanche at any second, and my eyes will not be blinded because of that. If something happened to my eyes, since I’m a big deal, there would be a big problem. I wouldn’t be able to see talent anymore. My eyes are experts at detecting talent and genius, and that’s why I’m a big time producer. You’ve seen my shows on TV, trust me. If you have a pulse. No pun intended.

Speaking of pulse, my finger is on it. I am between shoots, and I owe Art Jeanyus several million dollars for his spot-on advice about stocks. That amount is nothing to me, but he said I could write a column for his publication to cover the debt. Several million dollars for a few minutes of my time? My thoughts are that important. My eyes are that good.

For my column, I will, while wearing sunglasses, type in “Portland artist” into Bing (because I am a Microsoft stockholder, aka, big time) and let you know the results. I don’t expect to see much, I mean, what is Portland? A city or a small town? Is it on a map, could you show me? Wow. Thank you Bing. There is totally a map.

  1. Tom Repasky (portlandoregonartist.com)
    Good luck with the job search, Tom. Really, and I mean the best of luck.
  2. Anne John (annejohn.com)
    Bird painting meets penis painting, and done very skillfully. Hey, Anne, obviously you could use a little more penis with your bird, if you know what I mean, and I wish I could help with that but unfortunately I am married to my career.
  3. Jenna Schneider (jennamakeupartist.com)
    She’s a make-up artist. In other words, I have probably banged her, and if she had any talent, I would remember her, which I don’t.
  4. Jessica Belknap (jessicabelknap.com)
    Another make-up artist, you can see why I’ve banged so many. The competition is heavy, being a producer… You get what I’m saying. Jessica, sorry don’t remember you either. Which direction is Portland, anyways? I had no idea it was so heavy with make-up artists. Man, I could be getting laid right now in Portland, what’s the ratio of TV producer to make-up artist in Portland anyways?
  5. Laura Russo Gallery (laurarusso.com)
    I wanna sex you up, tick tock, ya don’t stop. This is a gallery, not an artist. Foiled again.

So far the first five people I can find on Bing under “portland artist”, contain two artists, two make-up artists (aka skeeze), and a gallery. Hmm.

Anne John is the winner on all counts. Whatever the Laura Russo Gallery is displaying on my screen right now, well, it’s making me want to go down there just to spit on the damn thing. Horrible. Who the hell is Jack Portland? Is that like your version of Hollywood Hogan? The Ultimate Warrior paints with knives, by the way. That’s your last hint, my show, it stars a wrestler. You’ve totally seen it. I’ll tell you next time.

Sword in Your Stone (sung to the tune of Nights in White Satin)

i’m gonna put my sword in your stone
and it’s gonna make you moan
all night long
and come morning
your statuesque body is gonna be used to my bone

oh it’s gonna make you feel so goooood
when i stick it in it’s gonna make you feel so gooooood
oh make my body tumble with pleasure girl
that’s so good the way you do that to me
so gooooood
so gooooood
so gooooooooooooood
i’m gonna ride you around the room, girl
and you’re gonna like the way it happens
cause i’m a stallion
but i’m not italian
have a taste of my sausage
that tastes like a losenge
gonna make your throat get sore
but that’s just my hors – deh – vors
because the main thing on my menu tonight, girl
uh! uh!
i said the main thing on my menu tonight
is your wet sloppin’
toes poppin’
slippery wet napkin dispenser
toaster for one
the jacuzzi of macuzzi
slidin’ it in
slidin’ it in
oh yeah
you know you love it
slidin’ it in
slidin’ it in
feels good
you know you love it
put my sausage non-italian weenie
in your slimy and sloppy slot

i’m gonna put my sword in your stone
i’m gonna put my sword in your stone
and it’s gonna make you moan
cause i put my sword in your stone
all night long
my sword in your stone
and come morning
after my sword’s been in your stone all night
your statuesque body is gonna be used to my bone
that is my sword

and when i say stone
i mean


P S S Y!
P S S Y!
P S S Y!






The Peluski Position: Ex-Wives

Seriously now! This is “OH MY LIVER!” My ex wife just called… Taffy Fawn… Seriously I just started writing this and she called…..

Taffy, really I don’t mean to blow the whole Jesus rescued me thing….. Seriously I had to tell her…. She was angry and that’s an understatement I mean she did marry me… After so requesting an immediate divorce…. We have to talk Taffy… I know it’s been some time since our Sandy Blvd. meetings at Voodoo Doughtnuts with all the… Seriously… Hip urban crowd of Portland but she wants more Alimony….. You know my liver can’t take this……. Taffy Will you pray with me!!!???!! Taffy all my love I gave to you. even after those times you couldn”t get my pants off and…Seriously I got off anyway….. Taffy does Jesus have a plan for me too…. Is it redemption? I’ve gone down a deep hole Taffy…and it isn’t my ex wive’s…. It’s a hole of darkness Taffy and I can see my liver asking for Cheetos now…. It’s a mean liver…. All it wants is Cheetos…. That’s mean Taffy… Is my liver Jesus….. Seriously..? Save me Taffy….

The Alberta Street Controversy

Good riddance, and a big thank you to Tan Peluski for letting me write his column. He has been ill, but sends his best. Important things await me this evening. Dinner with Vera Katz followed by a waxing and if we’re lucky a little horseback. Ha, I just realized that later tonight I’m going to be “Running down a dream” literally! Sex on the Titties.

Anyhow, for those of you who are not familiar with my public record, I am Dottie Barksdale, and here is a timeline of events which are all important to note when addressing the controversy surrounding Last Thursday on Alberta Street.

  • 01/01/2010
    I was appointed Director of the grassroots organization
    Alberta Street Residents Against Last Thursday (ASRALT)
    whose mission statement is the same as its’ name.
  • 01/02/2010
    I addressed representatives of ASRALT and announced
    my choice of focus for the organization: parking meters.

  • 01/05/2010
    I caught a lucky break on craigslist.
    A gentleman by the name of Mr. Spice was selling
    a truck full of parking meters at a flat cost of $5000.
    With money from petty cash, I drove to meet
    Mr. Spice and traded the cash for keys to the truck.

  • 01/07/2010
    Me and a bunch of volunteers from ASRALT went around putting
    the parking meters up on Alberta Street. Since we’re not an official organization,
    or representatives of the government, we were able to do so with no signage.
  • 01/07/2010
    I gave out my first parking ticket to a smelly guy playing a guitar.
    I explained to him that if he wanted to park himself or anything else
    on my Alberta Street, he was going to have to keep feeding the nearest meter.
    He acted like this was an outrage, and the crowd started to get behind him,
    but then I pointed out all the change in his guitar case. What a selfish prick.
  • 01/28/2010
    Last Thursday. Most people had accepted the meters by now,
    but there was still a little grumbling about it. Especially in the “arts community”.
    Anyone that found themselves on Alberta Street quickly found out how things worked.
    You either keep moving, or you pay the nearest meter to park. Anybody that didn’t
    pay to park got a ticket. Sure people were pissed off at first, but once they realized that
    the tickets were not real, most were so grateful to have dodged a parking ticket,
    they gladly started feeding the meters. Money was beginning to flow.
  • 01/29/2010
    The next day we unloaded the parking meters.
    I personally counted every nickel: $807,000 and change !!!
    We couriered a check to the Mayor, a donation to the city,
    along with a note about how much we would appreciate
    an end to Last Thursdays on Alberta.

Artists, art lovers, and art community supporters, give me your ears. Last Thursdays on Alberta Street are over. You’re welcome to show up and keep feeding my meters, but there will be no more public displays of affection. There will be no more public displays of intoxication. There will be no more public displays of people being weird. Nobody likes weird, not even in Portland. So just stop it already. I suggest you move it along to the Up-and-Coming Gallery, where up-and-coming artists can display their work if they are skillful enough to beat Up and Coming owner at Asteroids. That would seem to be a better use of your quarters, but like I said, if you want to give them to me I will offer no complaint. I will give them to the Mayor, he will give them to the city, and the city will give them back to you in the form of police protection making sure that weirdness never shows its face again on Alberta Street. In other words, making it a better place.

Artists, art lovers, and art community supporters (i.e. white people with college degrees and no money) the city is grateful to you for doing your part in chasing off the people who were there before, but it is now time for you to get with the program. You are beginning to be a headache, even to teenagers. You are the broom, and you did a good job sweeping, but now it is time for tax-paying citizens like myself to enjoy the clean, swept floor. So off you go, I hear your services would be appreciated in Gresham, and perhaps further out in the other directions as well. Like my boyhood crush, Tom Petty, would say: “Don’t come around here no more.”

~ Dottie Barksdale

Tan Peluski is a Rat Bastard


There’s been a lot of talk lately about what a rat bastard my ex-husband, Tan Peluski, is. Well, I’m here to tell you that you don’t know the half of it.

Tan Peluski is the type of guy who wouldn’t think twice about fingering your grandma when nobody’s looking. He’s the kind of asshole that takes you to Sizzler for steaks and when the food comes he plucks one of his own pubes, drops it into the mashed potatoes and then refuses to pay. We all know that his jokes aren’t funny, that his breath smells like canned cat food and he’s such an outrageous alcoholic that he practically pisses 151. I say practically because I’ve tasted it, and it does not taste the same. It will, however, get you wicked fucked up.

You might ask yourself how a piece of work like Tan managed to get married once, let alone seventeen times. As wife number five, I can tell you that whiskey and vodka are two of the biggest contributing factors. Might have been the Vicodin too. Not to mention Tan has really amazing testicles.

Fantastic. Testicles.

And I don’t mean he’s brave or courageous. I mean he has some very attractive testicles. Perfectly sized, balanced and fuzzy; like two sweet little nectarines in a velvet pouch. The kind you want to rub your cheek up against.

But don’t get me wrong. His cock is worthless. About as worthless as porpoise on Quaaludes. Come to think of it, it looks a lot like a porpoise on Quaaludes. A blind, porpoise on Quaaludes ramming up against your inner thigh until it just sort of rolls over and gives up.

Yeah, but I didn’t come here to humiliate Tan. Well, not entirely. I also wanted to write about the other side of Tan, one that rarely gets talked about. I’m talking about the Tan Peluski who takes time out of his busy schedule of drinking and insulting strangers to dress up every Christmas like Santa Claus and visit trailer parks across Portland. You might have heard of the Trailer Park Santas? Yeah, he’s started that program. They’re a registered non-profit organization and to be honest with you when I heard that he started a charity my first thought was, tax scam. But I’ll be damned if that old crusty piece of dried up puke doesn’t actually go out and spend time with those lousy rugrats. I know because I’ve seen him do it.

Ok, he does smell like an old moldy shoe, but it’s not like those snot-nose little bastards know the difference. Most of them are strung out on Ramen noodles and second hand smoke anyway.

So my ex-husband, the impotent, alcoholic, foul-mouthed, racist, ugly piece of shit that he is, dons a festive rented Santa suit and invites little kids and attractive teenage girls to sit on his lap and experience the beautiful fucking magic of asking Santa Claus for a gift. And you know, it’s just pathetic and heartbreaking to hear the things they ask for. Sticks of gum. Shoe polish. Crack cocaine. It’s just sad.

Of course, that’s the thing that makes Tan special. Tan understands disappointment. He understands rock bottom, and the thing that I respect about him is he doesn’t lie to those kids. He doesn’t tell them that they’ll actually get their presents and he sure doesn’t tell them that they’re bad.

Except the ones that want crack and weapons, but the rest of them, they’re good kids.

So Tan tells the good ones that Santa can’t bring them presents because they’re little trailer houses don’t have chimneys. Isn’t that sweet?

First Thursday is Fuckin’ RAD

Art Jeanyus here, back from a world-wide expedition to bring you the latest (and not so latest) news on what’s happening out there in the past, present, and by way of my telepathic powers, the future. I’ve been on what you would call a hiatus ( sorry, I mean gone from work ) and I’ve missed a lot of important things that have been going on in this fine city.

February 8th there is some meeting on Alberta street with the prettiest pedophile with a mayoral position speak to community residents about the Last Thursday fair on Alberta. I really hope everyone goes to this, but sharing your true deep feelings I fear will be washed over by your insecurity of rocking the boat so much you may lose that $75.00 income a month from selling your art here on Alberta street. I’m hoping though there will be a few that stand out at this meeting, people who try to make a point, push that “you can’t stop us” idea. Though I must say the waves any of us make will be swallowed by the fat overweight people in power that just want to pocket what they can from a culture ( umm.. that being you artists ) that already suffer from financial woes…. Oh well, there must plenty of beer and weed to help you forget about your failures after the meeting has passed, and I know ( telepathically ) if you have to pay to show on Alberta you’ll all scrounge together a few bucks to break even while people pass your art on the street and tell you things like:

  • Will you be here all night?
  • I just have to find a cash machine.
  • I love it but I just can’t afford it.
  • Let me ask my wife first.

Admitting that the sales record on Alberta ( and the people involved ) is well below par is simply the first step. Feeling your work is worth something is another step. Sticking with it even though you may have to cut down to three beers a night and one pack of Ramen noodles for dinner. Sacrifice for your art, if it is that important. I wish you all luck, and as I pass through this dimension onto another I look forward to astral-projecting (whoops, I mean doing that blue ghost type thing that Yoda did in Star Wars ) to the scene in hopes for some kind of a surprise from some great artist that just says no. That no might turn into another and then another…..Or I guess maybe I’ll happen across first Thursday somewhere else on my way back through town, with all the fire throwers, corner bands, hippies with bad home made necklaces standing alongside 82nd street. That would be nice! Plenty of good Chinese food around that way.


Your hostess with the mostest,
intergalactic hero of many talents,
and guru of all that is known and known to be,
including the pleasure centers for all carbon based life-forms…

Art Jeanyus

The Peluski Position: Polyamory Dating

Oh seriously another Peluski position! This is as awesome as my ex wife actualy removing here dentures before giving me a blow job, oh seriously she’s never doen that but an old man can dream and seriously I have. We all Tan here ” Man About Town has been around town and I can’t walk well so let’s put the daisies aside cause this isn’t going to be a Johnny Cash piece and picking daises? I’ve doen that beofre I just can’t tell you from waht ex wive’s vagina they came from. See won’t don’t slander here at Portlandcity art. com we simply full fill dreams, dreams that only old men like me left without the possibility of drinking Whiskey again ( Any word on that pill yet!) So let’s get to todays topic………. It’s something I know lot’s about…. Yeah

Polyamory Dating!!!!!!

Seriously I love this…………… Have you tried it? You should… I like to get wet, watch my partner get wetter then get someone else wet when she’s not around…. Wow didn’t some place tunr to salt in the bible because of this… Simply proof God was a jealous bastard. He must have been ” Like hey, stop that! and no one listened cause well he couldn’t really speak excpet through that bush caught on fire when that guy moses was lighten up some weed or something. Maybe he just need soem romanctic candle light and that sparked God’s attenttion so God said ” Fuck I gotta say soemthing… Well he did say soemthign to all those hot sweaty, sexy, uninhibited people of Sodom and Gamorah. Seriously! Poor folk they were, drinking and blowing loads all overdoesn’t Ron jeremy run a place like that here in Portland? I heard one of the floors is a ll covered in plastic, boy would I need that especially after my dialyisis. Well why say to one pait of boobbies when you can have a dozen and I’m not sying you’d wanna stick soemthing up my rear end but in the heat of the momentI can’t imagine complaining especially while I’m watching soem hot young swinger chick make out with like 15 guys!!!!!!!! So pornos oare out Polyamory is in!!!! Go multiple partners all at once it’s like the dance scene in the matrix…

The Gruesome Artwork of Cathie Joy Young!

Man About Town, Tan Peluskie here. Seriously sobriety is hurtign me more and more each day. My liver screams into my gentiles and then I was taken from my paint with a moderate sigh of relief. Not relief from pain though as I  immediately came across some images that not only caused me pain, oh seriously and they were not of my ex wife but one does look like one of them after a night of drinking.

Folks I’m a serious the colors, the shapes, they put me in disaray. I’ve been confused and sickened for days. Where is my copy of Catcher in the Rye I feel the assasination of my liver coming on. These images have burned there uninteresting for and use of creativity into my eye sockets, no the backs of my eye sockets, seriosuly no my liver can see them. I thought at first is this some government conspiracy? Did the government secretly plant a CIA agaent into portland that is sending us messages of rebelious distaste and desire for that which is not good at all….. Oh my god, it’s true! Seriously I am still hurting, Oh my Hemroid just ruptured or was it my spleen, no I cannot sit down my hemroids are fine. Folks what are we to do. In this case much like any case having to do with my ex wives I must intertwine my article with another and end this with yet another Top Ten Things not do in Portland

  1. purchase Cathie Joy Youngs artwork
  2. purchase Cathie Joy Youngs artwork
  3. purchase Cathie Joy Youngs artwork
  4. Ever ever think of purchasing Cathie Joy Youngs artwork
  5. Ever ever think of telling someone else to purchase Cathie Joy youngs artwork
  6. Walk buy or near the Guardino Gallery until February 23rd. Why you ask? Seriously!
  7. Stay away from the Guardino Gallery people Cathie Joy Young has painting there
  8. No don not go to the Guardino Gallery for Cathie’s show even if there is free booze
  9. Drink free booze somewhere far awat from a Cathie Joy Young painting
  10. Speak of Cathie Joy Youngs paintings…

Seriously folks they will burn hole into the deepest caverns of your rectum and make you feel less of a painter after you’ve recovered fro mthe blinding atrocity of their mirad existance……

You welcome for being your savior, sincerely

Man About Town,
Tan Peluski

Hands, Touching Hands, Reaching Out, Touching Balls, Touching Me!!!

Hey there, sexy ladies and lady dudes that are sexy when I am drunk but I never speak with them again and often leave before you wake. Glen here, and I’m ready for PortlandCityArt.com’s first article dedicated to the sexiness and beauty of poetry.

We’re not talking about just any poetry, though, we’re talking poetry that you can sing out. Poetry that needs music, that is music, that can make you and your sexy bitch make music all night long.

So let’s get started. I am pleased to introduce you to the sweet, sensual tunes of my inner thighs. Ones that creep up out of my pants and find their way into my throat, caress my vocal chords and have me whispering your wife into the sack with me using only my long and rhythmic tongue. First I’d like to thank PortlandCityArt.com for moving into the music/open mic scene and for having me be the first to sing here with sweet, sweet words on their website.

Fracklin’ Fosie

Fracklin’ Fosie, get me a  bone…
I’m gonna ride ’til there ain’t no holes to go…
Making me blow…
Blow, don’t you go…
Blowin’ some jizz on a fat man’s BA-BEE!

Bumpin’ and blowing alot…
Ain’t no blow that I can’t blow along yer face…
Maybe any place…
To bone when I want…
Don’t need to say cheese, smile, or please to no blow smell COCK!

Oh, I Bone my Fosie wild…
She bone the way to make me blow so happy…
You and me…
We bone  in style…
Fracklin’ Fosie you’re a bone-blown woman…
You make me blow like a bone that’s  hummin’…
So hang yer mouth on  me, girl…
My bone keeps blowin’ on…

Bone me now,
Bone me now,
Bone me now, my BAY-BEE!

Fracklin’ Fosie, I can blow in yer smile,
It’ll last for an hour, that’s all right…
Gonna blow all night…
To cover yer body white…
I’ll get down, you ream and don’t asks no questions, YEAH!

Oh, I Bone my Fosie wild…
She bone the way to make my bone smile…
You and me, we bone  in style…
Fracklin’ Fosie you’re a bone-blown woman…
You make me blow like a bone that’s  hummin’…
So hang yer mouth on  me, girl…
My bone keeps blowin’ ONNNNNNN!

Bone me now!
Bone me now!
Bone me now, my BAY-BEE!

Fracklin’ Fosie, I can blow in yer smile…
It’ll lasts for an hour, that’s all right…
I’ll blow all night…
To cover yer body white…
I’ll get down, you ream and  don’t asks no questions, YEAH!

Thank you very much.

Use these sweet words to make sweet love to you lady or look alike lady that you never speak to again and won’t tell your friends about but hey at one time he was a lady to you too…
Stay fit, and run like a cheetah.