grumpy voices....

Portland is officially overcrowded.

Spent most of the evening standing in line to worship at the altar of Bruce Campbell - an actor idolized for having a chainsaw grafted to his right arm - and for having battled the undead with postmodern B-movie zeal.

His book-signing at Powells was crawling with every last fanzie and street hipster you could scrape up within 20 miles. All looking for their own private Bruce moment.

Too many people - not even the Pope gets this much action.

It's as if the Jesus Tortilla was nearby, and we - the faithful - had to come get blessed. Every pop culture reference was in play - geek clothing splayed every last icon and logo - and even the most extreme body mutilation or tattoo appeared commonplace - like someone wearing italian loafers at a dinner club.

I left the store unsatisfied - and feeling dumb for having joined in.

When these culture vultures get old - they're going feel very silly.
Their skin will be full of holes and ink and their basements will be filled with useless collectibles. Their precious memories will end up in one big generational yard sale.

Transformers.
Atari.
Spam.
Star Wars.

I hate my generation.