Monday, July 9, 2012
Further digging shows that TriMet’s budget for giving a shit about ticket machines is equivalent to the one for ripping that goddammed poetry out of the trains, which is zippo. Your complaints are futile. They go to the same place that your gripes about that guy with his bags all over the seats go – TriMet purgatory. Your old umbrella is there, too. They’ll fix the ticket machines when Fred Hansen’s pension runs out, which is never. Did you know that after Fred Hansen dies, his termination contract with TriMet includes a provision to leave a small cash slot in his marble tomb? You do now!
Full editorial HERE!