Good Morning Ergophobic Knot-Heads,
The weekend was filled with adventure bordering on pitchforks and torches. I’m not sure where to begin, so let’s start where most incidents are incubated, at the Maggot. For those 2 or 3 of you new to this our humble forum, Maggot is a euphemism for The Magnet Inn. I’m guessing the original owner felt strongly the name would draw people in like moths to a flame, but the ensuing months certainly proved otherwise.
If one has the nerve to walk into the Maggot and sit at the bar, no doubt the first thing you’ll notice is the ancient bar chairs with duct-taped seats, the sharpened back supports that tear one’s flesh forcing a rush to the doctor for a tetanus shot, as well as the putrid smell of rotting sewage seeping up through the drains!
I know what you’re thinking… “Zuki you just painted a picture so grotesque it’s hard to understand why anyone would spend time there, let alone hold court for 3 hours; so why go there?” I’m hip. In fact, for dramatic emphasis, on Sunday I personally witnessed two groups of would-be patrons open the door, take two steps in, look around and then leave.
I suppose that’s one of the reasons I like the place. The seedy appearance belies the undercurrent of peace, love, and understanding that’s found there. The day-time drunks at ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ take care of one another. I mean this literally! They feed each other, help fellow patrons with car repairs, and generally are available for those benighted souls left for dead.
The above is why it’s so difficult for me to shine the light on moronic behavior either by one of our own or the oddities that drift in. As tough as it is though, I committed this our humble forum to be the ‘Pillory and Stocks” of bad behavior sending the offender scurrying for cover like roaches under a light.
Last Saturday was pretty much like most weekend days in that I arrive after 5-6 hours in my studio. This usually means I’m covered in clay wearing my studio togs looking homeless. The story I’m about to unfold is mostly true, but if you have any doubts regarding the veracity of my meanderings go ahead and log off now!
Another reason I’m attracted to the Maggot is the Jukebox. The understanding and kindly bartenders will crank the volume up thus facilitating my head dance. I probably spend $5 to $10 a day on the Jukebox, plus they rigged it so nobody for an extra credit can jump in front of you! So I’m rockin’ out to my selected ‘Blues’ artists imbibing and feeling relaxed when a stranger walked in and ordered a PBR. He kept to himself for a couple of my songs but finally had enough slamming his glass on the bar and screamed.. ”WHO’S PLAYING THIS SHIT!?” I shouted back “I’M PLAYING THIS SHIT DICKWAD!”
Typically, most of our family enjoy my taste in music so I was a bit put off by this critic as he headed toward the Jukebox. I have the TouchTone app and can load it up much faster than by manually feeding dollars into the machine. I had six songs loaded for every one of dipshit’s county selections so it was going to take a long time to hear all of his selections.
Skuzz Bucket smelled a rat. He quickly approached accusing me of jumping in front of him and thought I was an A-hole for it. I explained that he should join the 21st Century and get the app and oh by the way one is unable to jump in front of others on this machine. “Do the math idiot by the time you’ve found and loaded a song, I’ve loaded six…” We were now the center of attention so everyone began to laugh which infuriated numbnuts. He rushed toward me obviously bent on punching my lights out so I picked up my drink (pint glass) thinking I was going to use it against my attacker. But before I could pull the trigger three of my fellow patrons grabbed him from behind gruffly escorting the moron to the door.
So in regard to the sleazy and cruddy ambiance found at the Maggot, I refer to the immortal words of Lester Fuller and Edwin Rolfe: “You can never tell a book by its cover”
My thanks to Jimbo the bartender, Paint-by-numbers Smith, and Murph the Hairdresser.