The other night I was stopped by this lovely young lady who handed me a pamphlet titled “Where Are You Headed?” It was religious paraphernalia, and it really got me thinking. See, I was headed out to the bar when I received this trinket from God. So I had to wonder if the Big Guy™ was really talking to me in that moment. I ordered a gin martini, with big fat stuffed olives. Just in case . . .
The gin martini is a wondrous invention when constructed to its optimum particulars. When I partake at the crib, I tuck my gin/vermouth concoction and the glass into the freezer for a good hour. Then I rinse the inside of the frozen martini glass with vermouth. And then it’s time to build. Cocktail . . lime squeeze . . . blue cheese stuffed olives. Back in the aughts of 2000, I would have stapled a couple smokes to the delegation. But nowadays, I work without a net because I am so fucking brave.
I played it neat, and the verdict was Hi Ho Silver. The key to the win? Location. We sat close to the bar, so I was able to study the bartender for a few jingles. This particular gentleman was of a certain age, bushy mustache, New York accent. This wasn’t his first shimmy into Gin City, so it clinched my decision to go straight up on the Old Blue Eyes standard. In matters of plumbing, law and mixology . . call on a professional.
After which, I got down to the business of loose change thoughts with my running mates. And Jesus, the things you learn when you ain’t even trying.
- Like, did you know Tumblr- previously known as the blogging community not named WordPress, became a destination for porn? Until they banned it and peeps started jumping ship as a result. Years back, I had a Tumblr account that I got rid of because the site bored the fuck out of me. I guess it’s all in the timing . . .
- There is a Black Eyed Susan cocktail. And I don’t think I knew that. Shit . . I don’t remember if I knew that and forgot it, or just didn’t know that. But I’ve never tried it. I don’t think.
- Billie Eilish’s real name is Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O’Connell. That’s not a name so much as a continent.
- Ray Bradbury wrote Fahrenheit 451 in nine days. Meanwhile, Trump hasn’t written a coherent sentence in seventy three years.
What do you order for a last meal?
Contestant #1: Cheeseburger and fries
Contestant #2: Paella
Me: Bistec empanazado with arroz con frijoles and platanos
Winner: Cheeseburger and fries. No prison cook is going to know how to cook up paella. And they’re probably going to fuck up the breaded steak and plantains too. So the cheeseburger is your safe bet. And if they mess that up? Look on the bright side, you’re gonna die anyway.
And then there was the stuff that occupies my brain rent free. Like . . .
- What happened to ISIS? Did they like, call off the Holy War on us? Or do they figure we’re doing their job for them, so fuck it.
- A plant based version of the Whopper? What, the original idea wasn’t bad enough?
- Superman works with journalists, and yet, nobody catches on to the fact that he’s Superman?
- I miss seeing Lady Gaga at the grocery store. Back when she was canoodling with a local boy, she frequented the same supermarket as me. She was always dressed down and on the sly. In a world where YouTube ‘celebs’ scoff at baristas “Do you know who I am?” . . that shit is refreshing.
- I think I understand now. I went to a party in November of 2016 and I took the red pill. But a three year trip is fucking ridiculous . . .
- Back when Tarantino was a video store clerk writing screenplays in his spare time, he intentionally failed to pay parking tickets so that he’d have to go to jail. He wanted to hear how the guys in there talked. That, is dedication to craft.
Best Rolling Stones song.
Contestant #1: Wild Horses
Contestant #2: You Can’t Always Get What You Want
- I’m sorry, but I ain’t tuning in to this Beverly Hills 90210. I just can’t.
- Giving electric cars front row parking spaces runs counter to saving the earth. Shouldn’t the cars that are sucking the life out of our planet get the primo spots? Thereby lessening their negative impact?
- When one of those kiosk peeps at the mall engages you in a conversation you want no part of, just say “Sorry, I’m a communist”. That should do the trick.
- The Lorena Bobbitt case should have been a sign of things to come. The fact that officials rushed to a field to retrieve this asshole’s dick after which he underwent a nine and a half hour operation to have it re-attached tells you everything about how fucked our priorities had become. All I’m saying is that if you get your business cut off, there’s a better than even chance you shouldn’t be carrying that thing around to begin with. And a lot of people with real need don’t get meds or surgeries. So yeah . . that’s what was up then. And now.
Okay, I don’t think there is a legitimate segue for that last thought so I’ll leave it right there and say hasta to whatever vista you’re looking out from this morning. Remember to be kind to strangers and to let your family’s phone calls go to voicemail.
Hey, it works for me.