There are two groups of people I am constantly amazed at. The first are white people who can flawlessly perform elaborate handshakes with black guys. The intricate movements usually resulting in a finger snap and a fist bump are amazing and I wish I could pull it off every time. Hell, I’d be satisfied to do it once every calendar year. The second group are those with the intestinal fortitude to swallow their own vomit before horking on the bar.
Both groups are American heroes.
The film (and I don’t mean movie) debate of this generation will be what was better, Olympus Has Fallen or White House Down? For my money, Olympus Has Fallen was better simply because every other word was the F-word. I think if I was touring the president’s home and Korean terrorists starting shooting up the place, I would be muttering profanity till I got away or was shot in the back.
Also saw Man of Steel. No spoilers here but I will say that the ending of the movie is the most damage I could have ever imagined in one film. They essentially, that being General Zod who I have been told multiple times that I look like and to those myopic folks I say thank you, destroy Metropolis which is really a representation of NYC. I am opinion less on whether it was right or wrong that thousands of people were crushed in the rumble but I do think that the word gazillion might be appropriately used to describe the financial costs Zod and company did before Superman took care of business. And that is a gazillion with a capital G.
I wish I knew how to correctly wipe my butt. The older I get the more I am concerned with my plumbing and I am afraid that after 39 years that I might have made a grave mistake in going between my legs and not tilting to the side to get at my backside. Worse off, can I spend the second half of my life trying to teach this old dog a new trick? I wish somebody advised me in kindergarten on the best technique. The problem is that person should or would have assisted me definitely should be locked up for a very long time for pedophilia. We live in interesting times.
Speaking of Koreans, I’m glad NuSkin’s convention has left Utah. NuSkin, for people with souls, is a multilevel marketing corporation that sells potions and doohickeys. In fairness, I am sure it has a lot of Christian connotations and I am not one to take the Lord’s name in vain but holy Joseph, Mary and Jesus Christ! They are some of the worst customers I have ever seen. In addition to not knowing how to tip, they treated the bar like a pig trough. In Olympus Has Fallen, they seemed organized and dedicated to the task of blowing up the White House where at Keys, they were more interested in drinking bottled beer and screaming at me. I think it is official: I am the worst person to ever open a bottle of Miller Lite and these folks made sure I knew it. The reality is that they are bad people for selling multilevel marketing crap to their friends and family. I might have shortcomings but at least I don’t harass my people with garbage more akin to crystals and reading tea leaves. As a business model, any system that benefits only by having people I know giving me money for them to have a chance of a solid ROI feels shallow and gross. If you think getting involved with multilevel marketing is the key to getting to a better place in your life, do me and yourself a favor—go jump in an icy lake and sink to the bottom. You’d be better off as fish food than knocking on your neighbor’s door.
I watched a woman have a seizure at the bar. She rived in pain on the floor, screaming to the ceiling while her husband held her while she battled through the convolutions. It looked painful and embarrassing and scary and something you’d never want to experience much less live with. Her friends circled her as she cried out—begging her to calm down but her body failed her. She fought through the seizures but it wasn’t enough. Paramedics were called to take her to the hospital while she begged to be allowed to simply go home. It was hard to watch because you want to help but unfortunately, all you can do is tolerate the attack as it runs its course. I hope she feels better.
People have asked where the podcast is and I’d like to tell people to go to Tribsprep.com for the Tribune’s TPR: Trib Preps Radio. I moderate and the guys, Kevin Winter Morriss, Chris Kamrani and rookie Bubba Brown breakdown high school sports like whizzes. If ever given the chance to string for a newspaper, you should take it. It’s a good feeling knowing you’re not the smartest guy in the room. Check the podcast out if only to hear me try and pronounce words like Sevier County and Juab.
Is there something called bartender’s lung? And if there isn’t, why do I hack up a lung at the end of every shift? It’s probably too much yelling and way too much dairy.
Ben Raskin bartends at Keys On Main Wednesday through Saturday. Follow him on Twitter @BennyRaskin. Podcast, TPR: Trib Prep Radio. In fairness, he knows this blog was crummy and late but he just renewed the site for another year and figured he should put something up.