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How to Do It Jeremy Rosen Letters Special Feature

Dear Blackbirds Bar

Dear Blackbirds Bar,
I wanted to like you, I really did. Even though you had yet to acquire that patina of age and that feeling of really being a cool neighbourhood bar, you had promise. So many kinds of beer, so much good food. A dart board. Hell, the sports fans even seemed to appreciate me yelling out “Go local sports team” whenever they got excited about a football basket.

I spent the better part of four months of Sundays in your establishment. It was the only regularly-scheduled item on my agenda every week. Whatever kind of craziness my week brought me, I was in Blackbirds on Sunday eating hot wings between 1:30 and 2:00 PM. Did I mention your hot wings are the best in Astoria?

But about a month ago things went bad. So let’s imagine this, shall we? I enter your establishment at around 1:30 PM. I’m dressed in black pants, a camouflage jacket, and a hoodie. The hoodie has flames on it, by the way. Strangely this time around the bar seems full, but the tables are empty, which is the reverse of how it normally goes. Okay, so I take off my coat and sit down at a table. I forgot to mention, I’ve got a big, fat copy of the New York Post on me.

So I sit down with this copy of the New York Post, crack it open and begin reading. One of your friendly waiters comes over to me and asks what I want. I tell him “I’ll have a Peroni, and an order of very hot wings well done.”

This is really where my day turned to absolute shit. Look, I know there are starving people in Zimbabwe and I understand that the overrun of certain areas of Pakistan by elements of the Taliban is a problem; however, on Sunday at a sports bar I expect wings.
I hope you’ll understand that that’s why what your waiter (who was very nice) said to me next was so baffling.

“We don’t have the regular menu today because we’re serving brunch.”

I gave him a blank look and he, to his credit, looked a tad sheepish.

“You see, all the stuff for brunch takes over the kitchen, so we can’t cook the regular menu.”

My look now was a little less blank, but I’ll give your waiter (who I mentioned was really nice, didn’t I) a little less credit for his next statement.

“Would you like to take a look at our brunch menu?”

No. No I don’t want to take a look at your brunch menu. I’m a guy in a camo jacket with a copy of the New York Post. Do you see me with anyone else? Brunch is for couples. It’s something guys do when they’re with girls because the girls like it and maybe the food’s okay.
Or it’s something you do when one of your “bros” is in from out of town and you want to go check out the cute waitresses and feel okay getting trashed at 11AM. It’s not something a lone guy who looks like an escapee from the Montana Militia is going to do.

No, Jeremy is here for wings. Which, as I was putting my coat on and leaving, your waiter (who’s still friendly, regardless) said he would communicate to you. On my way out (without spending a dime), I noticed an omelet station.

An omelet station. In a sports bar. There were a couple of hot plates and a dude in a silly hat. Really. Here are a couple of better ideas for a station in your bar:

1. a gimlet station
It sounds about the same and makes more sense for a bar to have. “I’ll have a gin gimlet, hold the emasculating bullshit.”

2. a wing station
See, you have a guy out there cooking the wings you can’t make in your kitchen now, apparently. Everyone wins. “I’ll have a dozen very hot wings. Then I’m going to read about the destabilization of the Zimbabwean dollar because of Robert Mugabe’s regime.”

You know, even though I’m some fancy music industry dude, I don’t make a lot of money. But, I was willing to part with $20 – $30 every Sunday for you guys. Because seriously, those wings are killer.

You know what I do now instead of going to your bar? I spend an extra $15 to take a train up to the Peekskill Brewery in Westchester. There, I can get a lovely view of the Hudson River, I can choose from four times as many beers as you have, and I can get some really good hot wings.

No, they’re not as good as yours, but at least Peekskill has figured out how to serve brunch and bar food at the same time. What, your grill can’t handle a burger and truffle oil grilled cheese sandwiches with added estrogen at the same time?

Look, I know it’s not football season and you’re not going to do the wings special cheap anymore. I don’t even care about football. I don’t even know what downs are. I just want hot wings on Sunday and I want them six blocks from my house.

So fire up that deep fryer and get your act together. ‘cause brunch is really bumming me out. And I’m starting to tell my friends.

Yours truly,

Jeremy Rosen

Jeremy Rosen Stuff & Things


A Point-Counterpoint Discussion

Arguin Sluts

Pro Sluts:
Jules Strickland is a professor of Geo-Politics who has recently authored the award winning book Loose Women and Battery Farms: The Impact of Human Sexuality on American Agribusiness.

From billionaire heiress Dakota Bester to that girl at the bar last night, everyone loves a good slut. Sluts are a vital natural resource in this age of growing plight. From a psychological perspective, sluts are incredibly useful. For instance, even though a man knows a girl is a slut he will still enjoy having sexual relations with her. Though she is a loose woman who will sleep with anyone with a pulse, the slut provides a useful psychological tool for helping men, and even women, deal with their own problems and the problems of society. A man can read the paper and hear about war and terror and death, he can look at his own life and worry about his social status, his bills, his job or even his personal appearance and grooming, but all that fear and doubt about life and the world is washed away in the brief act of sex with a slut. Sluts make us feel good. Even though they only make us feel good for one day or so, sluts allow us to take a vacation from the problems of life; a sex vacation. Take a look at the recent popularity of Dakota Bester. This girl has no talent, no useful skills. She is a leech on her father and on society as a whole. She has only rudimentary intelligence and she’s only slightly attractive. And yet people love to watch her, love to vicariously take part in her adventures. Why is this? The answer is simple: Dakota Bester’s presence in the media reminds us that there are sluts in this world and reminds us that no-strings-attached sex is just a few tequila shots away. Sluts keep us happy and they keep society well balanced. In a word, sluts make the world a better place using only their well-lubricated genitals. Everyone loves sluts.

Samuel Radget, bataillian economist, founded and is a weekly editorial contributor to Accursed Share Weekly and originated the Reflective Left Foot model of surplus arts and crafts production.

The slut is the same socio-economic symptom as the nouveaux riches. Like those inheritors of wealth they did not earn, sluts spend sexual capital inherited from their forebears without reinvestment or further production of sensual wealth. At once sluts are the feminine analog of junk bonds and the physical coëqual of Chinese intellectual property thieves. While the true woman uses her superiority to continuously build the social bridge into the coming times, the slut steals this capacity, creating a situation not unlike some cheaply mass-produced Fiat or Yugo subcompact car. The momentary wealth of sexual congress is wasted in a frenzy. Whereas the true woman adds value to the market, the slut is only an illegally produced DVD awaiting you on the sidewalk, wrapped in poorly-printed coverings and hocked by Latin American immigrants. The slut does not engage in free trade, per se, but rather epitomizes a highly-leveraged tariff and subsidy system which eventually devalues the common vaginal market. The slut is a non-sustainable commodity amongst a spectrum of viable alternative sources. With the slut comes genital stagflation. With the slut comes decreased consumer confidence. Embrace the slut and you embrace at once Trotskyite thought and rigid dictatorship.
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Scott Birdseye

The “Why Hitler Was Bad” Checklist

Yes, we all know that Hitler was an evil person. Even skinheads and neo-Nazis know that deep down, they’re just not willing to admit it. The real question is, do you know why Hitler was a bad person? Well, we’ll tell you right now.

Put an “X” in each box after you fully understand that par-ticular reason, then move on to the next.

(You have to draw in your own boxes)

1. He killed 11 million people, not counting the other 40 million people whose deaths he caused

2. Started the worst war in human history

3. Ruined the Chaplain mustache

4. Made life difficult for anyone named Hitler

5. Was not actually a good artist

6. Gave vegetarians everywhere even more to apologize for

7. Made Volkswagen drivers just a little guilty

8. Denied poor Eva Braun a proper honeymoon

9. Created a reason to cast aspersions on the Swastika, a perfectly decent Hindu symbol of light, learning and peace

10. Makes us all a little weary of a 5’5″ guy with one testicle and a chip on his shoulder