You know what? I'm getting sick of the whole "Portland doesn't have any real men," shtick. Even though, on some level, I get it. I could go on a whole diatribe that cross references Portland's pseudo-European zeitgeist with the rise of Don Draper and then link the whole thing with the metaphorical emasculation of tight jeans, hipster-infantilization, and small bikes… But, fuck it. I'm just going to cook some bacon WITH A FUCKING GUN!
There. Problem solved.