Good Morning Children of the Corn,
Sometimes it’s easy to take the simplest of things for granted, isn’t it? Clean water, garbage collection, electricity, and enough food to eat are just a few of the more obvious things. I’d wager all the money I have (not risking much) that the two or three of you reading this besmirching go about your day oblivious to the hundreds of people making ‘life’s rich pageant’ a bit easier.
What’s more amazing still is that some individuals will without pay or recognition insert themselves into someone’s life purely for altruistic reasons and are content with that. Conversely, though, the vast majority will only come to the rescue if there’s something in it for them. It doesn’t necessarily have to be money as sometimes their reward is centered on getting attention which in my mind worst of the two.
“If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.” ― George Carlin
Last evening I personally witnessed an act of kindness that will no doubt set benevolence back 100 years!
Blondie’s is for the most part ramshackled with the ownership pocketing the receipts. They put money into TV’s and a nice sound system but didn’t spend a nickel to repair the cracked trim or the bar itself. The tables and chairs as well as the bar stools are from the 1950’s and warped so badly it takes a dozen coasters to level the tables keeping them from wobbling, at least enough so that your drink won’t slide off.
The disrepair doesn’t end there either! The dilapidation extends to the bathrooms where the toilet partition has been kicked off its side hinges and flaps out every time the door is opened. The fixtures are continually snapped off and left unrepaired for months. This is due primarily to Blondie’s clientele. Every dirt-bag, nitwit, idiot, 40-year-old skateboarder, moron, and shit-stain with access to light rail seem to converge at Blondie’s. They’ve no idea why but are compelled to arrive and ruin something.
The ramifications to the bar and its normal patrons that bathe regularly are at times severe. One of the regular duties of the cook is to unclog the toilets after a simpleton drops a duce then clogs the receptacle with too much ass-wipe. Rather than face up to their filthy deed and take care of it, they meekly close their tab and leave without a word! The putrefaction taking place adds to the smell of urine creating a wonderful ambiance.
The wait-staff now working for tips only want nothing to do with the bathrooms so one must wade through 6 inches of soiled paper towels hoping nothing crawls up your pant leg.
One of the benefits of sitting at ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ is the proximity to the bathrooms. Our fellow “committee member” Just JOE or JJ “if you’re into the brevity thing” kept opening the door so we could all get a good whiff.
The inevitable death of Blondie’s is no longer the subject of speculation as it’s only a matter of what day next week. It marks the ending of nearly a decade of moronic behavior, dancing, illicit sex, jukebox wars, DJ’s, and perhaps more importantly good friends. Goodbye Blondie’s R.I.P.