The first hint of what was going on came when the student who picked me up from the airport asked me what I fancied for dinner. I fancied Chick Fill-A, a chain which fascinated me because it was apparently run by evangelical Christians, to the extent that it was closed on Sundays. We had to drive to the neighbouring town of Beaverton to find one; it was banned from Portland, it seemed, because it was Christian; Portland proudly being the least Christian city in America. The pretty, blonde, polite teens who served me were, apparently, not consistent with keeping Portland weird.
The next day, I wandered from my hotel, which was close to the university, to the centre of the city. As I got closer to “Voodoo Donuts”—which a lesbian couple on my flight from Iceland had advised me to try out—I began to see tents in the street; something that the Woke city authorities were obviously prepared to tolerate. But this was nothing compared to what happened once I walked into “China Town,” having purchased my “Old Dirty Bastard” donut from an East Asian woman who’d shaved all her hair off and wore a black facemask. The aroma of cannabis mixed with urine started to assault my nostrils as I found myself unable to move for vagrants; a surprising number of them being female. The balmy micro-climate of the west coast being as it is, many of them simply lived in the streets of China Town, with the Chinese long since having moved out.
I lost count, on that sunny early afternoon, of the number of unkempt men simply lying on the pavement asleep. Many vagrants had wheelchairs and trolleys of goods and blankets which they wheeled around. I passed a number of tents with multiple occupants, including dogs. A middle-aged woman talked to herself, a young schizophrenic girl—who presumably thought she had psychic powers—asked “Is your wife a redhead?” and appeared disappointed to discover that she wasn’t. As I ventured closer to the famous Powell’s book shop, an old homeless man with a Bible preached loudly about our damnation, and an elderly lady vagrant, complete with trolley, screamed about how she was being persecuted, to the extent the local “security force” moved her on for “disturbing the peace.” Young, black-clad and very unconvincing transvestites, performatively donning black Covid masks as if it was still 2020, made their way to shops that sold nothing but cannabis and related paraphernalia.
I meandered around the university—which an emeritus professor/fan told me has a shockingly high acceptance rate—to see a fluorescent street mural painted by women dressed in black with “they/them” pronouns, and countless female students with tattoos and unnatural hair colours. Talking to some “Christian” students I found that even they were “non-denominational” in order to be “inclusive.”
A Portland-based follower took me up into the hills; the nice area of the city, from which The Simpsons creator Matt Groening hails; there is a graffito of Bart Simpson in cement in front of Groening’s old school. I assume that Portland once had that wholesome-comic Springfield vibe that you predict from fundamentalist Christian English immigrants to the northern states who then emigrated again to the rugged far West: a sense of religious destiny, intelligence, and creativity. With the collapse of harsh conditions, however, and the rise of Leftism the same social conformity, social anxiety and guilt have created super-Woke Portland and it has sucked in the mentally unwell from far and wide.
Even in the leafy suburbs there were Democrat signs attached to houses, albeit for less Woke Democrats. Portland City Council has only Democrat representatives ranging from traditional Leftists to the borderline insane. The nature spot above this area of large houses afforded a beautiful view of the city, though there were, of course, teenagers dressed in black and smoking weed. They were quite friendly, however. My “British accent” seems to elicit that in Americans. I had never been in a city where there were so many mad people. Naturally, as Portland is mainly white but Woke, all of the many murals on the sides of buildings were of non-whites, including one of a black man carrying Portland on his shoulders. Portland seems to be the Vatican City of the White Guilt sect.
However, the anarchy in Portland goes well beyond tolerating vagrancy. I witnessed a huge queue in front of a place that gives food to the homeless before allowing them, seemingly at their own request, to sleep in the streets. My professor friend showed me a sports and social club. Earlier this year, an anarchist had deliberately driven a car into it as he felt it symbolised traditional power in Portland.
As has been reported in the Daily Mail, as our group ate its brunch, at a Portland restaurant run by a gay man which had the gay-trans flag outside it called “Clarklewis,” Antifa turned up and began filming us; initially two tattooed girls and a weedy man in a facemask, all of them in black. One of the women demanded to know why the restaurant was serving “Nazis,” and started screaming “Nazis.” The restaurant set off its alarm and called the police, with the owner telling them he doesn’t discriminate on religious grounds. The Left were turning on their own; attacking a gay man for the sin of unknowingly serving the opponents of their special form of de facto Fascism.
We left via the back door, being watched by a male Antifa member who’d suffered severe burns to his face. It seems that, somehow, one of our meeting’s programmes had gotten into their hands, possibly having been accidentally left at another restaurant. In other words, Portland is riddled with people who are sympathetic to this violent, terrorist organisation.
A few hours later, the restaurant was surrounded by a mob of about twenty Antifa, windows were smashed, it was forced to close for the evening and to cancel a staff member’s wedding celebration, and a “traumatised” waitress resigned. The hyperbolic headline on the local television news a few hours later was that the restaurant had been “destroyed.” Andy Ngo, who has been seriously assaulted by this group of bitter mutants for revealing their activities, reported on what had taken place.
Beneath the beguilingly “weird” eccentricity of Portland, it is, effectively, run by the mob. However, this is not the mafia that ran Chicago; it is mentally and physically sick people who wear black—expressing, outwardly, how they feel about themselves—and who push for everything degenerate in Portland to be even worse.
Without them, it would be a quirky riverside city of eccentric arty, though Leftist, types. But I suppose, as I explore in my book Borderline Genius/Borderline Insane, optimum mental illness predicts artistic ability and, frequently, the insanity is such that, in the failed artist, it overwhelms rather than leads to talent. Antifa are the side effect of what is interesting about this eccentric little part of the old Wild West.
https://counter-currents.com/author/edward-dutton/
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