My father – constantly on the lookout for new ways for me to become raving, bat-shit insane – sent me this article from Yahoo! News. It’s all about vegans who won’t stoop to sexing with meat eaters because they feel like they’re shtupping “a graveyard for animals.” While this is an interesting idea, I think it’s mostly just the sign of an over-active imagination and some pretty serious neuroses. As a reasonably squeamish vegetarian, I generally just draw the line at not making out while my partner is in the process of eating ribs.
Archive for the ‘Clubs that Suck’ Category
A bunch of chickens have eaten chicken feed tainted with the industrial chemical melamine, used to manufacture plastic utensils and fertilizer. Gross.
Apparently the feed was partially made from pet food that had ALREADY been recalled because of its taintedness. Gross.
Richard Lobb, a spokesman for the National Chicken Council says to blame China!
“Melamine is not supposed to be in any animal feed, pet food… it’s an industrial chemical and that problem goes back to China where they were deliberately spiking the product with melamine and before that with urea in order to boost its protein content,” Lobb said.
Eww! Urea? That’s nasty. I bet that China’s not the only place where that kind of shit (or piss) happens.
So who is to blame? China? No way. Blame the chicken growers importing their feed rather than feeding the chickens things grown on their own farm. Importing feed, even when it’s not loaded with nasties, is bad a) when its manufacture creates pollution, b) when its shipment creates even more pollution, c) when the chemicals in it make the chicken sick, d) when the chickens get antibiotics to combat the sickness from the tainted feed and our bodies get overloaded with antibiotics, and e) when the people getting rich off of it are the pharmaceutical manufacturers and the industrial feed manufacturers, and farmers are forced to participate in the system even though it is totally f-ed up.
The scene: It’s 8:20AM and a young lady – let’s just say it’s this editor, for the sake of argument – stumbles sleepily down the stairs to the subway, shuffles past the booth and stops for a moment to fumble with her MetroCard. Lodged in the turnstile nook, headphones on, hands engrossed in the search for the MetroCard, she is helpless. And that’s when the Subway Pervert descends.
SP sneaks up behind the helpless lady and grabs her ass like he is being sucked into a black hole and it is the only way he can keep from being torn out of this reality and having all of his cells flipped inside out. What I’m trying to say here is that it is a strong grab. However, in the moment it happens, she is already going through the gate and by the time the atrocity of the situation hits her, she is on the other side. She spins around, locks eyes with SP and gives him the dirtiest look she can muster. It is some cold shit, though probably no match for a good old fashioned molestation.
Now, the aggrieved young lady has a couple of options. First, she can go back through the turnstile, forfeit her $2, and punch/yell at SP. This is not really an ideal choice should the young lady have wrongly identified the Pervert or should the Pervert be more wily, high or violent than she originally expected. The second option would be to yell to the cop who happened to be on the platform, “THAT PERVERT JUST GRABBED MY ASS!” The cop, of course, would be forgivable if he responded, “I’m really just here to look out for terrorists. Ass-grabbing is totally righteous and American.” The final option would be to ignore it, tossing nothing his way but some stink-eye. And this is what she does.
I propose we start an advocacy group for subway molestees. Or at least provide everyone with NYC branded pepper spray. Or scarlet SPs.
Why do people go to Manhattan clubs? They’re crowded, expensive, and the polar opposite of fun. Not fun. They’re pretty much all awful. Each and every one. But I think the worst might be BLVD. Pronounced “boulevard.” It’s tricky, I know. BLVD is located on Bowery between Spring St. and Hell. But it’s closer to Hell. You’ll see it. It has its minions standing guard outside. They’re not too noticeable at first, looking like typical Manhattan bouncers, however once they speak to you it’s impossible to ignore their satan inspired attitude, and asshole-like faces. Also, try not to look them straight in the eye. You might turn into stone. Or vomit. So best to try to avoid that.
Another reason to hate BLVD is for its dresscode; men are required to wear button up shirts and loafers of some kind. No sneakers. However, the bouncers/doormen are allowed to look as though they spent the early afternoon hours punching their faces in with their own fists, and wear clothes that resemble outfits that could be found at a Mordor tag sale. Justice, where is the justice? And most annoying, BLVD enforces a “no cutting” policy, even if, let’s say, a certain someone (me, perhaps?) was in line with friends but then left to (very quickly) use the bathroom at the Chinese restaurant next door. Once returning to her original spot, this certain someone would be forced to move to the back of the line. (That was a true story.) Total bullshit. It’s fine though, Medusa (bouncer’s nickname, by me) received a nice long reprimand afterwards. It went really well. He seemed to really care. Moving along, once inside BLVD’s sneaker-free club, one can enjoy the extremely reasonably priced $8 coat check, $15 drinks, $50 minimum credit card tab, and $25 cover. It’s like heaven on earth.
So, if you’re looking to get into an argument with a bouncer and spend a chunk of your weekly earnings on watered down drinks, well then BLVD is the place to go. And if what you’re searching for is the opposite of that? Well, I say spend your weekends in Brooklyn. Sweet, sweet Brooklyn.
*Note: Author left the BLVD scene shortly after battling it out with Medusa. However, all prices have been confirmed by some friends who decided to stay.