Fuck The Commies

Commie subterfuge.

These automated spam attacks have gone on long enough, proving yet again how the acts of just a few can ruin a good time for everybody. So thanks, Commies, comments have been disabled. Not that comments and reader feedback were a big part of this blog anyway. Still, it annoys me to see those shit-languages written all over my drunken posts. Fuck off losers. I've got too much work and drinking to do to keep cleaning up your shit.

Free South Africa, you dumb son of a bitch

Invoked a little Murtaugh there. Weird.

Anyhoo, these sumbitches shut down. I remember going there as a punk ass kid with the rents shortly after the abortive World's Fair. Fun note: I did go there two years ago with Mackey's brother. He won't own a red...nothing!

http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2010/sep/30/butcher-shop-closes-doors/

Tag, the former author/brewer here, can grill a steak on par with anyone. I'll be damned if I grill it myself someplace. Still, I am somewhat saddened since I am a huge fan of the old WFP sites. With both this property and the L&N vacant, I worry that some urban traitor will fuck us and sell them to the Russkies or the Frogs. Fuck that noise. That shit's for the birds.

Not all smiles und sunshine

Mackey's last post, coupled with a less than impressive trip to a local watering hole, has reminded me how fortunate I have been with the general quality of overall service I receive in this town. I'm not really even talking about places where I'm a regular, or even merely a familiar face for the most part. Just another thirsty hooligan in a new place, off the street like a common mendicant type stuff.

Some places around here fail because it was a bad idea, bad location, bad service, bad management...you name it. We as customers can bitch about a lot of things, and if you actually want the place to improve sometimes we need to speak with management right damn now. Constructive remarks delivered with a rational(and if you worked in the industry-sympathetic) tone can really help.

Recently, I've encountered two separate instances where service was both slow and apathetic. That's a rotten experience that will kill off a return customer pronto. I can overlook a lot of things like mechanical failures(shit happens) or being out of a beer/menu item. Hell, I even expect a small pour from time to time. You can talk with management without delivering a reprimand to the over-worked server or the short-handed kitchen. Many places that have a successful vision in place will welcome the chance to improve...if not, well then those joints aren't long for Knoxville in any case. Wade confidently into their midst and f'em.

Get off my land

Yes, I get it. It's Thanksgiving. Again. Year in and year out, I grit my teeth as acquaintances extol everything they are grateful for...usually listing their earthly possessions and worldly goods in a manner that's much more 'look what I've got' rather than sincere gratitude.

It's not limited to my religious friends either. Oh no, my atheist compadres also will bore me with a litany of shit. I'm sure God enjoys the irony of both groups being quite like the other in this regard.

I'm quite aware that being a 30-something means I still don't know shit. I'm dumb like an extinct species. What I can tell you is that I learned from a precious few good people what to be thankful for. Surviving Normandy or Hue. Pulling through a nasty life-threatening illness. Eating some meat when you've had more than a year or two of beans and garden grown potatoes. Having a roof over your head that's not a canvas or built to house hundreds. Nearly all of these things I learned from my paternal grandfather, a man in every sense of the word...a man whose shoes I wasn't fit to shine(largely because I've always had shoes). The economy may suck ass, but pick up a history book and look back a few decades if you want to see real Goddamn monetary distress in the world.

I'm thankful on Turkey Day for the things I'm thankful for 24/7/365. I encourage everyone to go into a private room and recount what makes you feel grateful. It's just as valid in the dark as when you drop leaflets from your warplanes.

I'll buy a beer for someone who just tells me, flat out, that this Thanksgiving they are thankful for beer, bird, and football*. This is one American who won't find you a shallow prick. You're being more honest than most. I refer to this holiday and the days around it as Drinksgiving, but I'm not going to tell every asshole I see about it in obnoxious detail and for that good readers-- give earnest thanks. Because, I really don't know shit.


* in fucking hi-def of course

Choices

What's the difference?

What's the difference between us and them?

Because we drink here!

UPDATE: SKM, you mean this guy?

Haha! You suck!

So with the coming of Spring(and supposedly warmer weather) Knoxville, like many other cities, has a few marathons and charity type-runs to stand in stark contrast to the rest of the obese populace. It's not really my thing, but whatever. Enjoy the endorphins.

As many of you know by now, Mackey resides in close proximity to downtown and these events generally roll off his downtrodden back like fine port wine. Residents of downtown, the Fort et all were on hand for the run on Sunday but perhaps missed the chicanery on Saturday. There were little children all over the place! It was like a kid bomb exploded down there, with some events and music prior to their run/walk/nose-picking wanderlust. Their parents or guardians were trying like hell to herd them into the World's Fair Park and out of the damn water. After about three or four hours of that shit, you can really tell that most of the adults were ready for a stiff drink. Thus, to the point:

Mark ye well drunken Barney Gumble. While this crudely drawn Simpsons fixture is hardly the epitome of a functional drunk, we all know that he is a hell of a lot more fun when tanked. Look at the sober version of this beloved cartoon lush during his 'wagon days' What an asshole.

I'll grant you he's not indicative of the mostly fit and energetic people that I saw down there Saturday afternoon...which leads me to the author's involvement in this sorry tale. When Saturday's weather turned from expected misery to a pleasant day, those of us that counted on shitty temps immediately offered thanks by writing off responsibility and proceeded to get trashed in the afternoon. We stood in plain view with beer mugs, wine glasses, and finally the bourbon bottle to the jealous glances and baleful glares of frazzled parental units. Our voices were profane and quite, quite loud.

I really hope that some of those 'rents managed to get their ass in front of a margarita or Jagerbomb asap. You fucking earned it.