There's at least one good thing about the sexual scandal surrounding the mayor of Portland: Reporters have stopped navel gazing about the sorry state of newspaper industry to contemplate the belly button of our elected official.
Sam Adams won the primary by such a landslide that he was immediately pronounced mayor. (Not all cities have that law, I guess.) People were thrilled -- well, the vast majority -- because he's smart, quick, personable and lives and breathes politics and actually deserves the oft-used and rarely-earned term "visionary." Anyway, even before taking office, Sam had identified what Portland needed to be a better city, understood how to make things happen, and knew the people and groups to bring together to accomplish positive goals. Portland has long been a granola-crunching-green-wearing-organic-loving-bicycle-riding city and Adams intended to magnify that.
The Adams Era felt like Portland's own private "Camelot."
Now it feels more like a tacky McMansion.
Adams recently admitted that while he was running for election and was asked if he'd had sex with a teenage boy, he lied. In case you haven't guessed, he said, "No." Now he says, "yes." Oops. Adams is the first openly gay mayor of a big city. (They always emphasize "openly gay," as though mayor office closets are chock full of winter coats and homosexuals ) During the election, the vast majority of people obviously didn't give a rats tush about Adams' sexuality. It seemed irrelevant to the job. Should be.
But then there's Beau Breedlove. It sounds like his porn name, you know that slumber party game of taking your middle name and the name of the street you lived on to come up with a va-va-voom stage name? No? Well, you probably fell asleep before then. Apparently, Beau Breedlove is his actual name. He has a dog named Lolita. Maybe she went to a canine slumber party.
So now newshounds have temporarily stopped howling at the waning moon. But they're still howling.