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?
cricket is like the third world's version of hockey. It just usually so hot in those countries they can't play on ice.
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