Monday, May 31, 2010

Bad Satan

Now I don't want to get off a month-ending rant here, but is it just me or does the new Red Room at Summers look like Bad Satan and Bad Santa got together on a Friday after work, drank a couple of Jaeger bombs, had a few bear fights, scarfed down a couple of six-month old fruit cakes, maybe even mixed it up with a couple of elves and then forgot they were in the coolest bar in Arlington so they proceeded to projectile vomit all over the walls in the back room in a violently grotesque and nauseating pattern?

On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner, on whoever painted this room must have been Blitzened.

Seriously, the new Red Room at Summers is the ugliest thing I've seen since I mistakenly looked at myself in the mirror this morning.

Anyone think the new Red Room at Summers is an improvement? I call B.S., but let us know at


  1. I think you'd be better off commentating funerals,

  2. Not only is it not an improvement, it's by far the most infuriating example yet in the infinite stream of Summers' supremely misguided business-boosting efforts. It's like Slummers is saying, "let's do everything we can do EXCEPT what any human customer with the sense God gave a reindeer would find appealing.” In other words, “Fuck Our Customers.” This is particularly infuriating because the paint job could have been completed in a way that looked halfway decent. But no. One more opportunity to look mediocrity in the eye has been pummeled by relentless, crushing ignorance. Not that any truly crusty Summers patron could be won over by chic and glamorous décor alone, but the room in which we once felt comfortably numb has mutated – on purpose! – into something deeply, frighteningly offensive. Will we get used to it? Will our weak, long-enabled constitutions be able to rise up and withstand the advancing spectrum of evil? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it will propel us all into tornadoes of murderous rampage. I’m not really exaggerating, unfortunately. This could be a sign of the end of times. With the debut of the Redrum, I believe Summers Restaurant is now a quantum leap closer to the gates of Hell.

  3. Dear Anonymous:

    Thank you for your input. I am so thankful for your comments considering I've been talking to my parents for 30+ years, and they won't even give me the time of day. I don't have a watch I could call my own, I mean I had to beat up the kid at school that was nerdier than me and steal his Swatch but when I tried to steal his SwatchGaurd to keep my new-found posession safe, that piece of scrap snapped like the piece of swiss plastic that it was, and having tried that, I learned a valuable lesson, and that lesson is I know what time it is.

    It is time to tell you that commentating is not even a word.

    You're right though. I did try commentating funerals. I tried to approach it like a rock concert and review it like Lester Bangs, but that was awkward. Especially since the first funeral I went to made my Dad cry, so I cried.

    The second funeral I attended was for my Grandmother. That was awkward too. All they seved was coffee. At the refreshment table, I turned to my Mom and was like, where's all the booze?

    Talk about awkward.

    That's why I don't commentate on funerals anymore.