Ads in parks? Here’s one in Forest Park for the Wildwood restaurant. Great restaurant.
THIS JUST IN: Before the white man came, Portland™ was just called “Port” which means “land of many parks” in Umatilla. After the white man came with his whiskey and hard drugs, “land” was added to the end, which means “also of junkies”. Today, Portland™ is well known for both its parks and its junkies. As of yet, there’s been no movement by megacorporations to sponsor Portland’s™ junkies (alas). The same cannot be said about Portland’s™ Parks. The Oregonian™ reports that the Parks Bureau has developed a new policy which aims to increase corporate sponsorship of the city’s many parks. Nike™, for example, paid $2.2 million to resurface all of Portland’s™ outdoor basketball courts–and was rewarded by having swooshes stamped on them.
THE BIGGER PICTURE: Finally, Portland™ is recognizing the hidden commercial potential of our useless parks. Think of where there are a lot of advertisements: the highway. What do people do on the highway? They sit. They look at things. They argue with their spouse or do drugs. Which is exactly the same thing people do in Portland’s™ parks! Anytime people are sitting and looking at things, they might as well be looking at advertisements. Advertisements are fucking incredible. They’re better than any dumb park–have you seen that awesome Coors Light™ billboard with the dude riding a bike? It’s like, sure, you could sit in the park and see a guy riding a bike. Maybe. But could you sit in the park and be guaranteed to see a fucking awesome dude with sideburns riding a fucking tricked out bike every single day–even during the winter? It’s more likely in Portland™, but still pretty unlikely. Some people say that commercializing Portland’s™ parks is a bad thing. I say those people need to grab an ice cold Coors Light™ and head down to the Niketown™ Funzone™ (formerly Forest Park) and try out the new Air Jordan™ Slingshot Ride before they come out against the new sponsorship deal. You shoot, like, 80 feet above the 80-foot blow-up Michelin™ Man. That’s 160 feet!
