Seriously, Tan here to talk about my liver, no really my liver and how it felt after I drank myself silly just to finish Matt Stangel’s article on the prettiest walls in Portland. prettiest walls? Matt the prettiest walls in Portland are in your bedroom painted with our love. Oh seriously. After that poor first paragraph where you regurgitated very little actually information about the Portland/Clear channel law suit It was clear I was in for a literal masterpiece. Really now I stopped to take a look at a photo of my ex wife then realized she was pictured in the photo of the mural at the beggining of your article. Oh seriously she is looking great! Waning sign code era? Wow! My ex wife waned but only when we had sex, Seriously. So with unfiortunate dispair ahead of me I printed out your article at Kinkos and followed your Mural walk through the city. Unbelievable! I found myself now where near the path your article was supposed to send me on, Seriously I must have been drunk! Really I was! After realized your article was becoming a pain in my kidneys I tossed it some guys yard on Belmont and headed for the nearest urgent care, I needed some pain medicine, seriously that painting of my ex wife was really getting to me. Really now nice article, can I have a heart attack now please! Seriously! Where those the only murals in Portland you could find or were those just murals of people you hadn’t bent over for recently and were looking for some brown star points for mentioning their names. Seriously my ex wife gets a brown star but not from me… Seriously she loves it. What is a brown star? Seriously what do you get when you cross a fat guy with Matt Stengal’s mural walk of the prettiest walls in Portland? This ones easy! Seriously just think a bit longer… Keep thinking.. O.k. fine, seriously ” A fat guy wishing he had never walked around looking at all of Matt’s pretty walls cause now he is tired and bored.” Seriously, there are a lot more murals out , good one’s too! Oh seriously and they are not all in SE.. Check out Chris Gayberman’s I mean Haberman’s and Jennifer mercedes on Alberta street at Francis restaurant, 2338 NE Alberta. How about Tom Kramer’s mural on NE williams and Shaver. How about work Klutch has done on the garage door of the Poy Boy art studio/frame shop and the garage door across the street from them. Seriously though I havre to take a dump, your article is goign to make great toilet paper when I am finished. Tan peluski is out of the office and headed on another adventure, really now not with my ex wife. Seriously .. o.k.. really, seriously this is it.. I’m finished.. no really… Matt Stengal like’s Jessie reno’s pubic hair, seriously… No that was joke.. really now…
In what can only be described as a STUNNING COINCIDENCE, Ben Pink no longer owes me money. Shortly after I ran the original article Ben Pink OWES ME MONEY, the man himself got in touch with me.
“I will be at the gallery Thursday, and will have a check for you then.”
Give it a minute to sink in… Ben Pink… the same guy I told you was harder to squeeze than a gorilla… owner/operator of Launchpad Gallery (new work by emerging artists, like Chris Haberman)… offering to part with his dear, beloved money. My heart actually stopped beating for a minute or two. Read it again: “…have a check for you…”
What the fuck?
So Thursday finally came, and even though it was clearly some kind of setup, I couldn’t resist. On the way over to Launchpad I came across an angry little 8-year-old that was mercilessly taunting the elderly.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Today’s Thursday, dumbshit.”
Something occurred to me… Ben Pink and his minions would be far less likely to kidnap and torture me if I was with a little kid. “Hey, you seem like a nice kid. I’ll buy you a Mountain Dew if you come somewhere with me and pretend to be my nephew.” He agreed (obviously! all kids love Mountain Dew), but insisted on payment up-front. So we walked to the store first, then over to the gallery.
Just outside the door to Launchpad, several rough looking types were betting on what appeared to be a kitten fight. One of them looked up at me and frowned. “You were supposed to come alone,” he said quietly like Edward James Olmos. He looked us up and down a few times, and after about five minutes he ushered us over to a blood-stained side door. There was a little pink bucket full of what looked like spare kitty parts next to it. A bird was perched above on the gutter, licking its beak. I started to think that maybe showing up had been a not-so-good idea, in particular bringing the kid with me, but before I could make a run for it the door slid open.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next. Ben Pink himself was sitting there on the toilet taking a shit COMPLETELY NAKED. He looked up with an amazingly wide grin.
“So glad you could make it!” he chirped. “I see you brought a little friend, I love kids! Come here little guy!”
The kid took off.
Ben: “Oh how adorable!”
Me: “So… well… about that check…”
Ben: “Nonsense, my friend! Checks are for disabled people in wheelchairs, how do you feel about cash?”
Me: “Well… whatever’s easiest…”
He reached down to the pants that were rumpled on the floor next to him and pulled out an immaculate velcro wallet. It was black. “Almost there!” He opened the wallet and smelled the inside. “I love it!” He got up and started doing what I’m guessing he might call his money dance. Completely naked.
Me: “So… uhm…”
Ben: “Where are my manners, I forgot you were even there!”
Me: “No problem…”
Ben: “Thanks for waiting!”
Me: “Sure… uhm…”
Ben: “Say the magic word!”
Ben: “Come on, say it! I love the magic word!”
Ben: “No, the MAGIC word!”
Me: “Pay me?”
Ben: “That’s two words, you big dork! Come on, think MAGIC!”
As soon as I said it, the wallet disappeared in a small poof of smoke. Ben Pink began hopping and clapping his hands together. “Check your pockets! Check your pockets!” His excitement was scaring me, so I reached in and checked my pockets. Nothing. Just the crap I had when I showed up. I kept digging around, thinking maybe I missed something. Nope.
Me: “Ben… I don’t think the trick worked.”
Me: “I mean, it was cool how the wallet disappeared, but…”
Ben: “Check your pockets again!”
I checked my pockets again. Nothing.
Ben: “Check your pockets again!”
Me: “Look, man…”
Ben: “Check your pockets again! Pleeease!”
I checked them again. Still empty.
After about the tenth round of the check your pockets game, I decided that no amount of money was worth all of this, so I just said fuck it and started to walk off. Ben Pink ran up behind me (still completely naked) and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Dude, you forgot your money.” His other hand was extended, and was holding a small roll of bills. He was calm all the sudden. “Sorry for putting you through all that just now… You have to admit it was pretty funny, though.” All I could see was the money in his hand. “We’ll should do this again sometime, what do you say?”
“Sure man…” I reached out to grab the money, but before I could get my fingers on it something hit me hard on the back of the head and everything went dark…
TO BE CONTINUED
Until next time,
Hey honeys! Oh sweethearts, hold on, sorry for the miscommunication. I wasn’t talking funny not cause I don’t like you… I was just rubbing my balls and I had good hard… well, you know in my mouth…. Lol! Only some of you will get that, sweeties, but hey!
In between the time it takes me to bend over some of those well known city officals and your next door neighbors husband, MMMMmmmmmm. I love married men, oh sorry sweeties off the subject. I like to take some time and wander into some Portland art galleries. Oh honey I love it, it gets me wet and hard all at the same time sweeties. I’m smacking my lips just thinking about some art my mangina got all erect over the other day…
I was working my way down a popular Portland street hung over and worn out from the hard nasty I gave some hot guy in an alley and honey let me tell you that nasty was… mmmmmmm. good for me and him. I put his ass pussy where it belonged! Afterwards, sweeties, I went lookin’ for something just as sweet for my eyes… I stumbled into Launchpad Gallery, and oh honey if my pants weren’t already wet I wet them again….. Photos by Mark Wickum, and paintings of photos by Chris Haberman….. I tried to suck a dick for some art but was refused. Then I tried the ol’ I’ll bend you over for one but no one took the bait… Guess I’m just a pay as you need it kinda gyrl… get it sweeties?… Wish I had some of that sweet love on those walls, though, and that artist Chris Haberman, oh sweeties he can bend me over anytime. Loved it all, loved it so much I even gave a trick a freebie I just had to let something of mine explode after all that nasty I saw on those walls.. Nasty is good sweethearts, not bad! It means wholesome gyrl love in my back. Come get nasty with me when you’re free, my treat of course, but only for a hot sexy painting…
Love you sweeties…….
Now I’m not one to point the finger, but Ben Pink (aka Ben Pinkowitz), of Portland’s Launchpad Gallery, is a cheap ass dodgy bastard when it comes to paying for artwork. Not only will he try to pay you as little as possible (since he’s a starving gallery owner), but when he does pay you, it will never be the entire amount. He’ll just give you whatever loose bill happens to be in his pocket. Then he’ll cry to his friends about how they’ll have to buy him drinks cause some mean Portland artist insisted on being paid for their artwork. “Oh, poor, poor me,” he will cry. “I just can’t make ends meat running a gallery in Portland. I am so broke… sob.”
Ben Pink will have you believe that it is YOUR responsibility to make sure he pays you. Chase him down endlessly until somehow you manage to run into him. Then you gotta back him into a corner, after which you must find someone that can lift him up by his feet and shake him up-and-down until whatever scraps he hasn’t palmed away in his greasy little hands drops to the floor. Then he will say, “We’re even now?”
“No, you still owe me.”
“Oh, ok! Glad you’re keeping track, cause I’m not!” Why would Ben Pink keep track of how much money he owes you? It’s all up to you, the artist who should feel grateful that Ben Pink was pleased by your work enough to not pay for it.
Ben Pink… I attended his Love Show back in March, knowing that he would be there, still owing me money. I finally found him over by the kegs directing beer traffic. When I asked Mr. Cheapskate, “Hey, how about buying me a beer?” do you know what he said?