Slummers Inferno - Fourth Circle

Those punished in this circle of Slummers hell include the avaricious and miserly who hoarded beer because they had no clue the next time Mya would be back to do her job, and the prodigal who drank all their beer before Mya went on break or before she went over to the light side, never to return.

The Best Idea I've Heard All Day

Slummers Inferno - Third Circle

The Hound Sonny guards the alcoholics, forced to lie in a vile slush produced by ceaseless foul, icy Canadians (Mya obtains safe passage past the frankenbrian by filling its three mouths with summers appetizers). The alcoholics lie here out of sight of any bartender, and heedless of their neighbours, symbolising the cold, slefish, and empty meaningless of their lives.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

I know that 900 of the 1000 words are used to explain the fact that I can't take a picture to save my life, but the other 100 words should be used to describe everything else that is wrong with this picture. The use of blue electrical tape has been the butt of countless jokes on this blog but it does have a certain low-fi charm. The thing that bothers me the most about this picture is that the cover charge is $7. I heart even numbers, but my bias notwithstanding, where the hell did $7 come from? I'm sure the DJs are Econ majors and they have a formula that considers the marginal utility and the elasticity of demand and that $7 actually maximizes the profit, but who the hell stayed awake for an entire Econ class to know that that actually means? My point is that $7 seems totally random, but random is standard operating procedure at Summers. I just hope that some part of my $7 goes to buy a new door lock for the Red Room bathroom.

The Electronic Rumba

It is not very often that the Slumlog can contribute to the public good (fine, i have never contributed to the public good. thanks for the phone call mom.), but there is a first time for everything, right?

To that end, we here at Slumlog wanted to let all the devoted reader of this blog know that despite the abject failure of the salsa dance contest, there is still salsa dancing on Tuesday nights at Summers.

I am as surprised as you are that Joe is sticking with a bad idea, let alone sticking with any idea. All this considering that this idea is so especially bad.

Salsa is as Salsa Does

It is time to put my door stop down.

I thought salsa dancing at Summers was a stupid idea to start. Confiscating the cash prize and effectively cancelling the constest is so stupid it makes me smile.

Summers is not a salsa crowd so hosting a Salsa night was stupid.

Failing to build loyalty and providing free lessons to draw customers was stupid.

Mandating a cover charge was stupid.

Suggesting a trophy was stupid.

Offering a cash prize was stupid.

Failing to predict the number of customers that would participate was stupid.

Rescinding the offer of cash and a trophy was stupid.

Not removing the offers of cash & trophy from all the posters was stupid.

Cancelling the salsa contest forty-five minutes before it started was stupid, and was really just the last item in a long list of mistakes. Summers customers shouldn't really be surprised though, its standard Mean Joe Green M.O.

Slummers Stimulus Plan

Hopefully the $100 that was budgeted for the Salsa Dance contest can be credited to the building improvement & repairs account and we can replace the moldy tiles.

The Worst Valentine's Day Ever

It was a first date and it was Valentine's Day so I had to deliver. I stole a bottle of wine from my parents' liqor cabinet (this was back before I could drink legally), borrowed my parents car and drove over to her place to make her dinner.

I made dinner, we split the wine and I scored bonus points by identifying Gregory Abbot's 'Shake You Down' when it played on the radio while we sipped wine in the living room.

I should have rested on my laurels.

I thought I would make the night more romatic by driving down to the Alexandria waterfront where we could see the city lights and gaze at the stars.

I drove to the waterfront and I even found parking (which should have been a warning sign). We got out of the car, strolled along the waterfront and walked down to the end of the pier.

Where we met some guys who invited us on their boat and we said no but we agreed to go back to their house where I engaged in a game of quarters in which I drank Canadian Club while one of the guys drank Coors Lite while the other guy took my date into the living room and proceeded to sweet talk her and I had no clue what was going on until she came back in the room and told me we had to leave.

We left but little did she know I'd had 6 shots of CC in 30 minutes because I didn't know how to play quarters because I didn't get invited to parties because I wasn't a cool kid in high school and since I wasn't a cool kid, 6 shots in 30 minutes was a lot for a guy like me.

I escorted her back to the car where I promptly projectile-vomited over the white picket fence of the yard next to which we had parked. When she asked me, "What was that?", I answered "Nothing."

I then proceeded to tell her to get in the car and I proceeded to drive her home at 5 mph.

After that night, I never talked to her again. I never even saw her again.

I'm not proud of the mistakes I've made, but I offer my tale as a caution to other members of the Summers family to warn them that everybody hurts. You're not alone.

Happy Valentine's Day

I wish a happy Valentine's Day to all those that love Summers and all those that love me. Thanks as well to those that pull my handle to show the Red Room much love.

Slummers Inferno - Second Circle

These carnal malefactors are the first ones to be truly punished in Slummers. These patrons are blown to and fro by the winds of terribly slow service, without hope of ever getting a beer. They have been placed in the second circle of hell because they have become overcome by lust for more alcohol.

Slummers Inferno - First Circle

In the first circle reside the unbaptized but virtuous regulars of Summers. Although not strictly sinful, they do not accept Joe or they way he continues to do business. They are not punished in an active sense, but rather grieve because of their separation from alcohol without any hope of reconciliation or any hope of ever getting served.

WWJD?

What would Joe do?: Take one salsa trophy and make it disappear.
What would Jesus do?: Take one salsa trophy and reward the multitude.

What would Joe do?: Feed a man fried fish twice a week.
What would Jesus do?: Teach a man to fish so he could eat fish every day.

What would Joe do?: Not let me see my hockey game.
What would Jesus do?: Let a blind man see.

What would Joe do?: Stone the creators of rogue Facebook pages.
What would Jesus do?: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

What would Joe do?: Charge people for water.
What would Jesus do?: Turn water unto wine.

Zits are the Pits

All right, Joe, I'm not ready for my close-up.

Ok, yeah, I'm the smart ass who stayed out all night, didn't wash their face when I got home so I'd be ready to go quicker in the morning - so yeah, I deserve what's coming to me... but I was exposed to moldy tiles at some point in the night and ya know, that stuff stains.

Will Someone Answer the Door?

I have a massive headache and the ringing will not stop. It sounds like the door bell has been ringing non-stop since Orpik shot the hockey puck straight in my ear. The worst part is that it has upset my balance and I can't play defense like I usually do.

The Old Bait and Switch

Who thought Salsa night at Summers was a stupid idea from the start? I sure did. Who was totally taken by surprise when Joe offered up a cash prize for a salsa dancing contest? I sure was, I mean the guy hasn't offered up a free drink in all the years that I have know him. But the straw that broke the camel's back was his offer of a trophy (see photo titled "Now you see it"). Well, hellfire, I 'll sign up for that just to catch a glimpse of the trophy.

Just as I was about to sign up for the stupid Salsa contest, my dance partner informed me that the trophy was no longer available as a prize. I was like what the fuck? That's the only reason I wanted to sign up, you're breaking my fuckin heart Joe. Don't believe Joe is breaking my heart? Check out the revised sign.

Breaking News: Hosni Mubarak Steals Summers Salsa Dancing Trophy

In an attempt to shore up his crumbling regime and try and maintain his hold on power, Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak, the current President of the Arab Republic of Egypt, has reportedly stolen the Summers Salsa Dancing Trophy (and a 1/3 of a pack of cigarettes) and sold it on the black market to fund his patronage program and pay his supporters.

In the chaos after the theft was discovered, an undercover Maltan sleeper cell agent that was interviewed had this to say, "Hey, we have new specials but we have no trophy."

When asked to elaborate further, he said, "Hey, rogue facebook fan pages launder money for home-grown terrorists."

When asked to explain that, he simply said, "Hey, I wish I had Michael Fazio working security."

You Could Hear a Cricket Chirp...

which is ironic considering the bartender was lecturing the patrons about the virtues of cricket.

For the more clueless connoisseurs of this catastrophe of a confessional, he was talking about the pastime cricket (i hesitate to call it a sport because its just duck-pin bowling on hashish) not the cell phone service whose commercials are so confusing i dont even know its a cell phone service, nor talking about the beloved Disney character dressed in a top hat and tails.

The albatross that drags down the bartenders's story is the same problem that ruins Mean Joe Green's next terrible idea (ie every idea). Nobody gives a shit.

You have to know your audience.

You dont explain the rules of cricket to an audience of red-neck americans raised on jarts and hackey sac, just like you dont have a salsa contest when your most frequent customer is a cross between blossom and steve urkel.

oops, did i do that?