TAKE THE MIKE AWAY FROM THE MEATBALL!

Things were okay before the Marketing Department bros showed up. As soon as it became obvious that the cretins might wish to sing, the Toishanese gentleman pre-emptively seized the microphone, and treated us all to a deep baritone operatic rendition of a mainland propaganda ballad sung by a woman (as on the screen).
The great wall is indeed a great wall.

But, being a gentleman, once he had made his point he graciously yielded the mike to one of the yuppie meatballs, who viciously screeched a rap song that was damned well unintelligible, to the great joy of his drunken fellow yupsters.

See, this is why cow town college grads move here from Kansas. They get to offend people, whereas if they stayed in Donkey's Bollocks, Illinois, they'd be utterly unremarkable. Oh, and there are no jobs in Chumbucket, Idaho. Unless their sister working at the Shake Shack gets fired again. Or their mom.

This is an exageration, of course. Not all of them are from Dishmops, Wisconsin, or wherever banjo players advocate squealing like pigs. Some of them are from New York. Else we would never have heard about their pizza. About which they never shut up.
It's like stupendous or something.

We delight in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse. Most particularly by 'precious' twenty-something white boys. And we're gluttons for punishment. Masochists.


Actually, we simply refuse to yield one of our customary haunts to the worm people.


We've been regulars there once a week since before the karaoke machine was installed, and when the white people aren't there it's a good place for conversation.
Plus they have Jameson Whiskey.


Admittedly, the curvy plump thighs and miniskirts outside the previous establishment were missing -- as was to be expected -- but the drunken slushbucket with the irritating speech habits wasn't there either, so it was a net gain.


Altogether a good evening. Burger fries wine soda beer tea whiskey tea.
I'm the soda and two glasses of tea.
As well as the pipe.



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