NE/331 rant

This deserved some deliberation...



Obviously, the most stunning part of this letter is it is proof that someone actually does read my blog. I'm guessing they're bored. The author of the letter raises a legitimate question, though, and I will attempt to answer it as sensibly as possible. They want to know why I despise the 331 Bar as much as I do?

The author describes theirself as 'a former nordeaster'(a statement that I'll touch on later), as they lived a couple of blocks from the bar and, presumably, they frequented the place. Fine. I understand that proximity to things tends to alter perception. I'm far enough away from the fucking place thankfully, so allow me to interject some objectivity into this shitty mix.

I could go on for some time about the things I hate about the 331, but I'll focus on two things. The staff, and their complete disregard of tradition.

Look, I like bartenders. Bartenders tend to like me. I get that I'm not the most important thing in their lives, and I appreciate the reasons for surliness, and the quality thereof. There is a difference between being surly because you've earned it over the years and it has become part of you, and being surly because you are in NE and you think it's fashionable. That is just being a fuck-face. That has always been my experience at the 331. And really, Mr. Bartender, how well do you think you're pulling off the surly-guy mode with your stereotypical hipster outfit and a half of a fucking can of hairspray on your goddamn head? You look like a dick, and you tend bar for shit. Now go listen to 89.3, work on your mustache, and fuck off.

There is a bigger reason for why I hate the place, though. About a year or so after they opened, a good friend of mine went in for one of their $5 Bloody Marys one morning. Fair price, indeed. He asked for a beer chaser, and this is where the whole the low shit and high shit systems combined to make a giant fucking shiticane.

They charged him $1 for the snit.

This goes against everything our forefathers have built for us here, and everything that we stand for now. And not just locally, but the entire fucking Midwest. You'll notice that anywhere you go in this country, if you ask for one with your bloody, that there is a good chance that the bartender will guess what part of the country that you're from. THAT'S BECAUSE EVERY BAR IN THE FUCKING MIDWEST GIVES YOU THE CHASER. It's 3 ounces of shitty beer, for christ's sake, and somehow the 331 decides that they are so fucking awesome that that tradition shouldn't apply to them? Unbelievable. Maybe someone has talked some sense into them by now and they realized the error of their ways, but I'm no longer interested. That is a fuck-up so egregious that I could never go back. I can only hope that it gets closed down, but until dudes stop cramming their junk into women's pants and shitty music stops being popular, I don't see that happening anytime soon.

Oh, and about that former statement. It's innocent enough now, but know this readers... no actual Northeasters refer to themselves as 'Nordeasters'. That is actually a racist slur that people used to call the Polish immigrants, like my Grammy, who were new to Northeast Minneapolis in the early 1900's. The English language is a motherfucker, and pronouncing things like 'north' is ofter taken for granted. Polish people couldn't easily do it, and their lack of linguistic dexterity was used against them.

Captain Americat!

HOLY SHIT!



I have a cat running around here somewhere that is scared of nearly goddamn EVERYTHING. If you move too fast, it fucking hides underneath the table. It won't even kill spiders! It just pats them on the back a few times as if to say "Hey little buddy, you're doing a great job with your 8 legs! Keep 'er up!" In the meantime, those alligators are dinosaurs designed to eat that fucking cat and he holds the line without even thinking of retreat.

From now on, I'm having cats around here imported from these swamps. Apparently, they're raising some hard-core felines down there that won't take shit from anyone or anything. I will have a new partner in the battle to get control of the goddamn block back from the squirrels.

***On a side note, I noticed that this cat's escapade of Iron Will was too huge to properly fit into the format of my blog and that it ran off into the sidebar. So be it, Mr. Tuffy, I'm far too intimidated by you to take it down now.

Dashboard Baby

Yesterday's snow can suck it. Besides the light it shined upon my bald tires and their need for replacement, it also committed the deleterious act of keeping Dashboard Baby in the dark and without a proper view of the sky(which he/she has become accustomed to).



Where could I ever start with Dashboard Baby? He/She has been with me for over a year and a half now. He/She never complains. He/She always stays on His/Her post. He/She has maintained for me the cleanest dashboard that I've ever seen on a consistent basis, and all he/she asks is that I whip a shitty once and a while.

What's wrong with this?

I'm going through my busy season as of late, so I haven't rapped about shit because I don't exactly enjoy sitting down for a typing session at my cpu unless it's about squirrels that I've purified. This, though, had to be considered...



Can anyone tell me why in the fuck a dude might need a resealable bag for the 3-pack of tank tops that he just bought for 6 bucks? What am I going to do, wear one for 6 months until it wears out, toss it, and then break out my reserve $2 tank that I've been storing in a moth-resilient form of cryostasis located in my underground clothing bunker? FUCK!

Garden Terrorist Meets Tomato-Eating, American Justice.

I've said it before, my landlord has gone to great lengths to make one of the most lavish gardens in the neighborhood. Since I have been given the proverbial green light to take food from it, I intend to protect it.

So far this year, these shit-monkeys have kept to their nuts and the trash or whatever. However, I caught this dick doing what they do worst, eating one bite out of a tomato and then discarding the rest.



I'm not going to let some diseased rodent keep me from eating local!

Summers last go.

RUTABAGA FEST!!! I've only heard the stories of this Cumberland, WI super-extravaganza, but this is the first time I got an opportunity to experience it.

Predictably, we ended up just drinking beer on the dock and going to the bar together...

A clean kill.

OK, maybe I watched Avatar one too many times, but it came in handy yesterday.



In what is possibly my nerdiest display of geekdom of my entire life, I ended this thing in style. After knocking him off the wall and injuring him to the point where flying was no longer possible, I told him that "His body will stay with the people, but his spirit will go with Eywa".

Then I crushed him with the fly-swatter.

Don Pablo's. Wow...

I possibly ate the worst food that I've ever eaten tonight(at least since Columbia Heights High School lunch). Nell is going through a rough time, and since on numerous occasions she has told me that Don Pablo's is her favorite restaurant, I decided to bite the bullet. Take one for the team, so to speak.



In retrospect, I would have preferred to be kicked in the crotch. This food redefines terrible. My bowl of soup, which was a failed attempt by me to try to salvage SOME degree of healthiness from this doo-doo buffet, was easily the saltiest thing ever put in front of me. It reminded me of middle school when Shawnee Hunt used to distract a dude sitting across the lunch table from him, then dump a handful of salt in his food when he looked away. Only, there was no Shawnee Hunt...

Waupaca, 4th of July

Didn't conviene with the entire crew this time, but we worked it out with what we had.















Oh, and here is Cory being truly busted looking at some boobs. He isn't even smooth enough to wipe that look off his face while peeping.

Darksided

Just a few short weeks after being escorted out of a Twins game by a handful of fake cops, I get arrested by real Stormtroopers. 35 is shaping up nicely!

RT

I've always been cool with what I've known about Minneapolis' mayor. Now, I'll freely admit that I'm not the most knowledgeable when it comes to local politics. Besides the disgusting amount of beige architecture thats happened under his(and his predecessor's) watch, I feel like he is pretty legit for a politician. Seeing him at a parade a few days ago like this certainly didn't diminish his standing in my eyes...



Its like he's doing his best wu-tang! Despite this coolness, I once stopped going to a bar because I looked over my friend's shoulder and saw RT about 5 feet from away. Again, its not that I don't like him, its just that I'm not comfortable hanging out at a bar with the mayor quite yet.

Residence in decline.

As I type this, this greasy shit-ball of disease is laying in front of the door at my last apartment. After I moved out, a friend of mine moved in. Apparently, he hasn't done a damn thing to maintain the level of safety that I once provided.



Don't get me wrong, though, this isn't the same classification as the normal shit-rat that I once rained death and destruction upon in the name of child welfare. No, this a problem of a much grander scale. Standard pellet guns don't do squat to a raccoon unless you were to get real, real lucky. I suggested a golf club. He called animal control.

I guess the point is I'm ashamed and embarrassed by my friend's behavior(or lack thereof). In only 7 months, the neighborhood that I once secured has apparently turned into some sort of shit-sanctuary. When the cats away...

1st Twins Game

It took a while, but I finally made it to a game at the new Twins stadium. Besides it's name and the fact that most of it is beige, there really isn't anything about this place that is bad. And the food!





Below is what you see when you look up...

What in the HELL!?!?

OK, I was going to try to ignore this incident in the name of freedom of expression or whatever, but really... what in the HELL?


*i'll explain the weed plant later...

This was the scene outside our doorstep at 12:01 on easter sunday. Its an old Russian Orthodox Church. I understand that the day is special to these particular believers as well as others, but what about the dude across the street who might be sleeping and couldn't give a flying fuck about said day?

Well, "Fuck him" say they. But they don't say as much with a whimper. Oh no, that would be more characteristic to their approach on, well, helping humanity progress forward. Instead, they do it in a swashbuckling, gay Megatron-ish, give-us-your-attention-and-prepare-to-burn-in-Hell fashion... and its complete with 15+ minutes of the loudest goddamn bells I've ever bore witness to. Incense, fire, walking around in fucking circles like well dressed zombies, terrible singing... its all there.

Now to the weed plant. Its just a marker that I stuck there(DUH!). Its sole purpose is to call your attention to the dude being pointed at by the bottom left leaf. I was going to go with an arrow or a circle, but somehow the weed plant seemed more appropriate. Here is that scene enlarged a bit...



This guy(who was of some goddamn importance in this fruit-fest) wouldn't stop murmuring shit and jumping around like an idiot. Also, the hands? Those fucking hands? What is with your goddamn hands, dude? As you can see, he has them up in the air either like he is doing the chicken dance or he's in a mosh pit.** I honestly have no idea what the fuck was with this guy. Well, at least he has a handful of impressionable kids around him. Jesus...


**i do believe this is the first time that the chicken dance and a mosh pit were used to describe the same thing.

The Classic NE Auto Show.

As stated before, I never intended for this project to be about cars. But, like Mr. Leahy said... "When life throws you shit-balls, you've got to get a shit-bat".

The new roommate

I wasn't for taking this little bastard in, but I was outvoted and it turns out that its not all about me. Fine.

My only criteria for him staying here, though, was that if it pisses on something besides cat litter, its fucking gone. Also, she was going to get a new name. There is not chance in hell that I was going to call a cat Mika(or Nika or whatever it was).

Behold... Ricky!

More NE.

I've been meaning to photograph this sign for about the last 2-3 years. Actually, I have photographed it in that time, but every one of those pictures has just sucked. But thanks to A-hole West photo customers that have neglected it due to its age, I now have a shift lens that makes this photo look the way I want it to. Thanks, dumb-asses!



And, I caught that same red truck from a few months ago, but on its naughty side...

Standing on the corner in a white Godfather hat.

Ah, the block anchored by Jimmy's. Unquestionably, one of my favorite blocks in the whole goddamn city. If you want to know where it is, you should ask someone.







If this doesn't look like your idea of beautiful, thats OK. I can help you.

Uban's Part Deux

Another week of not working means another week in the woods.

Drama-free relationship!

I was cleaning out my emails this morning and stumbled on this attachment. Perhaps I need to start watching daytime TV.

Keith's 30th

This post would've been a lot more interesting if Keith(seen below doing a shot in the hallway in order to escape his girlfriend's watchful eye) would have just trusted a dude...











...kidding dude. Happy birfday.

Crystal

Now THIS is what a label should read like! Its so simple. Its easy to pronounce everything. Your grandparents would recognize everything on it. And, its made in America goddamnit!

Can it be that it was all so simple...

Tonight, I attended a short happy hour with 2 friends that I've been lucky to know for about 8 years. We worked together for the last 3 days, and any gripes I've had in that time were definitely not because of them.

We differ, though, in that both of them are devout religious folk. They both have their reasons, and I never challenge them on their views(not that I couldn't/shouldn't). We have a happy, cordial stasis on that topic when working together.

Today was the first time that they found out that I REALLY WAS donating a kidney to a stranger. Because both of them are good people, they thought it was a beautiful thing. What irked me, though, was their personal insertion of their religion into my situation...my decision. They told me forthright that there was no possible way that I could be an Atheist/Agnostic and still do what I am doing. I had to be a spiritual person. A religious person.

See, like so many religious folk, they hold their version of morality as the archetype by which all others should be held accountable to. For so many, any act undertaken with pure benevolence has to be the result of a direct relationship with their god. Its just too difficult for them to comprehend good for Good's sake.

It was a long day, so I stayed quiet. I listened to them. I nodded my head. Not forward, in agreement, but sideways, in acceptance. It got me thinking, though, and thinking enough that I wanted to blog about something that I've been wanting to get off my chest for some time. Its not too heavy, not even my idea(I think), but I maintain that its worthy of writing about.

Here are some figures...

According to the Hartford Institute, there are roughly 335,000 religious congregations in the U.S., with an average size of 75 members. The vast majority of these follow the teachings of Jesus Christ(love thy neighbor and good will towards man and whatnot). There are approximately 70,000 people currently 'living' on dialysis for kidney failure/disease. Because of how humans have changed lifestyles in the last few thousand years, we only need one kidney to live a perfectly healthy life. Kidney transplant surgery is exceptionally safe and effective, and takes on average 6 weeks to fully recover from.

The only real drawback is that it costs the donor a lot of time and money thanks to our current health care system(best system in the world, right?). What if, though, those who think so highly of their religion's inherent compassion actually put actions to their venerable readings, to their incessant chanting? What if every congregation looked for one member who was willing to donate to a non-friend or a non-family member? Upon finding the willing participant, what if the congregation came together to emotionally and financially support the donor and their family? How quickly would that dialysis waiting-list be eradicated? How much better would the whole goddamn world be?

Of course, this would be a more plausible scenario if people were better educated on the subject(i.e. just because you have a daughter, dude, doesn't mean she matches your blood type). It would also be more realistic if religions taught people to REALLY care about each other instead of just doing, well, whatever the fuck it is that they are doing...

The Continentals

I don't know what the deal is at this residence, but it seems that someone has a deep appreciation for Continentals. There is perpetually at least 2 of these cars, in this vintage, sitting outside on the street. Most likely, they are using the parts from the lot of them to make one super-Continental. I can imagine the neighbors consider it quite the pain in their ass. If so, fuck 'em. They're beautiful.

Audrey Marie

One of my best friends in the world had a baby girl today. Audrey Marie... what a fucking knock-out.



Anyone who knows me at all also knows the way I feel about the sheer number of people in the world, and how I think population is possibly the only problem that humanity faces that could trump even religion. The real problem, though, is ignorant, ill-prepared adults who have think that because they are capable of producing litters, that they should.

This man, folks, is an example of what an adult SHOULD be before they get involved with something as serious as having a child. The mother is no different. The little girl will probably be the same.

I'd wish the happy couple 'good luck', but they won't need it...

The tourist thing.

I've been to San Fran maybe 10 times in my life, and I've never once made it down to this part of the Golden Gate. In fact, I've never been to anywhere below street level near the bridge.



Shame on you, friends in SF.