Destination: 24 Hour Church of Elvis Location: Used to be in Portland, Oregon Hours: CLOSED FOREVER!!! :( Cost: A couple bucks or suffer the wrath Synopsis: Listen to the babble of a hyperactive lunatic in the midst of a tacky display of Elvis memorabilia and retro trinkets, then get married for 5 bucks.

Zooass Report: It was the day after we had unknowingly strolled through "Vaseline Alley," where a Freddy Mercury look alike leered at me with limp wrist extended and gave it his best shot - "Hey there big guy!" We were en route to a mysterious place called the 24 Hour Church of Elvis, whose location had been revealed to us by the amicable Mary of Mary's Club, home of Mary's All Nude Revue. Approaching the run-down builing with boarded-up street level windows and ad plastered windows above one can guess why the City of Portland tried to close this place down. A scrappy sign on a neon post marked the starting point of our journey into the bizarre. We climbed a flight of steps and reached the portal, a door with signs haphazardly taped to the glass. "Do you want to BURN IN HELL?!" Sure. Why not? The actual church turned out to be nothing more than a room filled with junk displayed in a comically tacky manner. Among the scattered relics were Elvis artifacts, goofy dolls, 70s memorabilia, and "artistic" renderings by the wacky Stephanie G. Pierce, Artist to the Stars, Celebrity Spokesmodel/Minister and Hostette of the church. To our surprise, a trinket by trinket comparision revealed that Ronald McDonald had as much of a presence in the place as Elvis. If you find the ramblings of a lunatic amusing then 24 Hour Church of Elvis is for you. Our "tour" started with our squawking hostess babbling incoherently abouts the relics of the room. First we were shown the legendary shroud of Elvis on a tortilla chip, then the Vibrating Can of Elvis, followed by a can of Fruit Cocktail. We didn't realy get that part. Next up was mock game of Let's Make a Deal. More amusing than the game itself was the way that people who had the misfortune of wandering into the room in the middle of the game were scolded like children. But the game played on as she shrieked and we cheered along liked morons. After a philosophical debate revolving around the Bionic Woman Beauty Salon and endless minutes of meaningless psychobabble the basket was passed around so to speak. Our hostess put a coin in the spinning doll head jukebox and preached like there was no tomorrow. You can buy lots of worthless Church of Elvis momentos here for just a couple bucks. I picked up an Elvis X-ray, a refrigerator magnet, a laminated Elvis ID card and enlightening (ha!) "Strange Mystery" booklet. But that's not the beginning of it. You can get a not-legal-at-all marriage here for but $6! Despite my initial resistance to the idea my friends finally pressured me into a shotgun wedding. Hawaiin music played as minister wacko passed around a bucket of plastic halloween/wedding rings. After a round of "why do you want to marry spouse A/B" questions followed by flustered "I don't know" answers (Elvis made me do it!), she recited the vows, made us click our heels together three times while chanting "there's no place like home" and let us finish it up with slobbering kisses. A polaroid and marriage certificate later we were parading down the streets of Portland. I had the honors of dragging the soup cans behind me. Glorious day!