Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Woke

September 14, 2017

 

Nazis marched in the streets

armed with

fire flying flags flaunting

hatred that only fools

believe was defeated long ago.

Statues fall

humans grow

allegedly

but apparently

not yet.

Minds freed stood

in forces fighting

against a white sheet of invincible hate

the beliefs of an enemy capable

of surviving the test of all human existence.

Then he spoke words

eventually

words still so preposterously false

that ones with the ability to think clearly

are still puzzled trying to

process the propaganda

the ignorant rhetoric

spewed by an elected official

unfit to hit spell check

let alone lead the free world.

A spoiled child

raised by maids and privilege

wants to educate the masses

on what it means to be a great American?

A coward famous for dodging responsibility

whether it was

to family

to god

to country

believes that these Nazis

marching down the streets

of America were wronged by

someone who looks different than them

who thinks different than them?

That irony is repulsing and

proves that the fight for equality

might be an impossible dream dreamt

by greater leaders then

what we are left with

during these days of late.

Progress was drowned quickly

with a recessed sense

of what it means for

all men and women

to be created equal.

To defeat this klan

of power

there will be more blood

spilled

an inevitable evil

of all war

but bullet and blade

will not rule the day

nor will they determine the winner.

A war so rooted

in hatred

one with such a

violent history

can only be won when we

use our minds

to sense what

all men and women

should have in common

deceny.

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Hops and Heat 2016

June 3, 2016

Do you like eating food that makes you sweat profusely and turn red? Do you like crying during your meal? Do you enjoy washing fuck your face spicy dishes down with freshly made IPA’s brewed by some of the most talented brewers in the world? If you answered “fuck yeah!” to any or all of those questions, then you are in luck. Hops and Heat 2016 is here and as a result your life is now complete.

Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille is the third installment of Hops and Heat one of our three annual craft beer and craft food events. Chef AG Warfield and his staff of lunatics created this event after a day of binge drinking, chicken fighting and chili cooking. One of Chef Warfield’s flunkies made a chili with a shit ton of ghost peppers in it rendering it nearly inedible.

After a few too many pints by all, the young cook challenged Chef Warfield to eat a certain amount of his melt your flesh chili. Money was wagered and beers were poured. Chef Warfield crushed the chili in between sips from a fresh batch of Team Freeman Brewing’s latest IPA. The pain of the chili was excruciating to palate, but the deliciousness of the IPA made it briefly blissful. This bliss was immediately replaced with horrific pain. Chef Warfield won the money but might have lost the fight.

The next morning while still feeling the awful after effects of what he ate Chef Warfield was inspired. He wanted to bring that moment of bliss to you, the general drunken public. More than that bliss though he wished to inflict the blinding pain he felt on paying customers. Hence Hops and Heat was born. It’s the one day a year we can actually guarantee you will regret coming into the pub.

The beers will be some of the most hoppy IPA’s you have ever tasted, including a few the Churchill’s Pub and Grille staff was fortunate enough to help brew: Artifex “Sober in the Morning”, Mother Earth “Sinister Prime Minister” and Pizza Port Carlsbad “They Gon”. We will also be tapping in oldies but still very goodies like Russian River “Blind Pig” and “Pliny the Elder”.

Two of our full time favorites Societe “The Pupil” and Bear Republic “Churchill’s X” will also be on in addition to 35 of the best IPA’s you can get anywhere, ever all being poured alongside each other. From Bend, Oregon to Kalamazoo, Michigan we challenge breweries participating to produce their best IPAs and they gladly deliver. Several of the brewers will be in attendance on Saturday sharing pints and plates of spicy food.

The food is broken down in three categories: Bitten which is damn that’s hot, infected which is why am I doing this to myself? and the Undead which might kill you but if it does you will rise from the dead to roam the earth.

If you have ever eaten at Churchill’s then you know how tight our Chile Popper game is. Saturday a new height will be reached. How about a jalapeno stuffed with a ghost pepper stuffed with a Carolina Reaper, habanero cheese and bacon that’s then battered and deep fried? It’s the start of shark attack season so to help kick that off we will be serving mako shark seasoned with Caribbean Green spice topped with jalapeno slaw and habanero aioli on a ciabatta bun.

Then there’s The Devil’s Short Ribs. Beef short ribs prepared with Carolina Reapers and Ghost peppers with Tabasco mash and root vegetables topped with a chipotle chocolate sauce. The food isn’t just hot it is delicious. That is where we get you. You want to stop eating; you have to stop eating but you can’t because the flavor is just too good.

Hops and Heat 2016 is Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille. Get ready for the best IPA’s paired with the tastiest, spiciest food you are going to find anywhere. You aren’t dealing with some over glorified line cooks here. We are professionals and take our heat very seriously. I look forward to watching you, the general drunken public burn and then ask for more. “Yes sir, here is that glass of milk you just offered to suck my dick for. That will be ten dollars.”

 

 

 

Review Evolution

May 17, 2016

There is a four letter website out there that stands for everything that is wrong with social media. This website allows any asshole with a cell phone to spew hate filled reviews attacking people in the service industry because they are upset that there is no Amber Ale on tap. They seem to have no control over what slanderous rhetoric its users post. Anyone who has ever waited or bussed a table, tended bar, been a floor or general manager or worked the door as a security guard will tell you that 90% of what you read on this website is bullshit usually made up by a user under the influence of alcohol. I understand that speech is free in this country but personally attacking an employee of an establishment you patronize, while drunk and recently ejected, does not equate to freedom of speech in my mind.

I have so many negative reviews about me that it is impossible to count. I have been called both racist and sexist on this site. I have been accused of being a pathetic little man drunk with the power of running a restaurant on this site. I have been referred to as a shameless prick who inexcusably backs his staff on this site. One time some schmuck actually posted a picture of a dog taking a shit and had the nerve to compare me to the pile of dung on this site.

Mind you these nasty things have been written about me because I was just trying to do my job. When was the last time something that happened at your job got blasted out on the internet with the express purpose of making you look like a jackass? Think hard. For me it’s much easier to recall because it happens every several months. If you want to pull me aside and say these awful things to my face that’s fine. It most likely won’t end well but one way or another it will end. Don’t be a coward and run to your laptop or tablet and blatantly make shit up that threatens my livelihood. Once it goes up on this site it is there for the public to read and now not just one person thinks I am all these awful things but the entire world is encouraged to make the same rash judgement.

So, you say to me, “It’s just a silly little website. Nobody cares that much about what is written there. Readers are smart enough to decipher the legitimate reviews versus the bullshit ones.”  First of all, the people who use this site are not that smart. Trust me I deal with them on a daily basis. If they were in a spelling bee versus a stack of bricks I’m taking the bricks, big time. Second of all people do care. I have seen people cry after reading a nasty review that was written about them. I’ve met people in this industry who have lost their job because they got too many bad reviews most of which were bullshit. If people didn’t care what was written on this shitbag site then certain restaurants wouldn’t discount customers who write five star reviews about them.

I have been in or around the restaurant business for 20 plus years and have been in the craft beer industry the last ten and what I have found is that people in this industry care about what they do, a lot. This is a career not some summer job motherfucker and every day I go to work I try to be better than I was the day before. When things don’t go well I lose sleep or drink to excess usually both. When my teammates have a bad day I feel it, because I care about them too. We work long hours on our feet trying extremely hard to provide our patrons with stellar product and service.

To do all that and then have some punk ass permanently stoned college hipster or some Quaalude popping soccer mom who have never waited a table in their life tell the internet that I suck at my job is something I am no longer able to just sit here and take. In fact, a very good friend of mine and I are going to open a restaurant for all these expert reviewers of a business they have never been employed in and it’s going to be called “Go Fuck Yourself” (patent pending). That way when they don’t like how things go down in our house they can reference the sign on the front door.

Service industry people unite. They want to write about us then let’s write about them. There is a website called GULPU.com™ coming to you soon. It’s our site to talk about how awful they are. For now, get stress off your chest with us at https://www.facebook.com/GULPU/

That way the next time some redneck with dip spit dribbling down his chin tries to fight you because you wouldn’t serve his pregnant girlfriend alcohol the real story will be heard too. Oh yeah, I almost forgot “Fuck Yelp”.

The Bad Bartender Chronicles V

May 31, 2013

I recently had one of the worst experiences at a bar that I’ve had over my entire drinking career which has been lengthy and highly decorated. It was my first time in San Francisco and as a lover of craft beer everyone I spoke to before embarking on my trip up north told me there was absolutely one bar I had to go to if I was going to be in the city. So, I did and shall forever regret stepping foot there. As a respectful member of the bar community coupled with my blinding hatred for a certain four letter website I am legally not allowed to name, the bar at which I had this terrible experience shall remain nameless.

Another reason the bar shall remain nameless is because it wasn’t the bar that ruined my time there it was the pathetic excuse for a bartender who was clearly twelve years past being past her prime. Even a historically cool bar can be ruined by terrible service and based on the regulars’ acceptance of this common street walker’s behavior I figured her shitty treatment of customers wasn’t an exception but the norm.

It was late when we arrived with a nice buzz from a day long hair of the dog session beating off a circus-sized hangover. My first impression of this allegedly awesome craft beer bar was that it reeked like vomit. Not freshly puked vomit but years of people puking all over the place like the scent of vomit was stained into every surface of the bar.

We found four seats at the bar and waited to order. The bartender was at the other end of the bar leaning on the bar top with her back to us as she talked to other customers. The guys she was talking too had full beers so they clearly were not performing a business transaction. I looked around and saw four other patrons in addition to my three buddies and me anxiously awaiting a frosty beverage. After five minutes of watching the bartender shoot the shit she looked down the bar and made eye contact with me briefly before returning to her conversation for another five minutes.

Finally she slowly sauntered down the bar and helped the four other patrons who needed refills. Five minutes after that she greeted my buddies and I with a disinterested look as she tossed four soggy coasters at us. She wore a small tank top and leaned on the bar to show off her tits which were probably the only two good features this venomous skankbag possessed both physically and mentally.

Her hair was put back in pigtails and her face wore the weathered look of years spent turning tricks behind a puke stained bar. Her shorts were short enough that she needed two different hairdos and my first thought was how proud her father must be that his forty year old daughter still dressed like a whore.

She half listened to our order while twirling one of her pig tails around her finger. She poured our beers and asked us where we were from. When we told her San Diego she laughed at us and walked away. With frosty pints in front of us we thought nothing of it and all tipped the venomous skankbag a couple of bucks as we are all seasoned bar folk.

Less than halfway through our beers two of my buddies and I stepped out front for a quick smoke. We returned five minutes later and upon sitting down saw that our almost full beers were no longer where we left them. Now I know your first instinct would be to ask your non-smoker friend what the hell happened, but that is another blog for another day and honestly our freshly bought beers being taken was probably the last thing on his mind since at any other bar in the world that wouldn’t be a concern.

It took us ten minutes to get the venomous skankbag back down to our end of the bar because she was at a table sitting on some guys lap as she sipped out of their pitcher. When she finally returned to us we asked her what had happened to our beers.

“What beers?” she responded with a dip of her shoulder to expose more of her breasts and a flirtatious smile.

We all laughed uncomfortably thinking she was fucking with us and that our beers would reappear shortly. When they didn’t we asked her again what had happened to our beers.

“What beers?” she responded in a much more serious tone.

“The fucking beers we just bought from you and tipped you for!” said one of my buddies.

“I don’t know what beers you are talking about,” she said.

“Seriously we just ordered those beers ten minutes ago,” I said.

“Listen, do you really want to debate me on this or do you want to tell me what the fuck you want to order?” she yelled at me.

At that point I walked out with plans never to return because at this point I had been purposely ignored, stolen from and laughed at. After smoking a cigarette with no sign of my buddies, I reentered the bar only to find out that one of them had paid for another round of beers from the venomous skankbag and also tipped her fat in the process. I know you are thinking why the hell any sane person would be foolish enough to give more money to such a thieving bitch but once again that is another blog for another day.

Sipping the frosty pint in front of me calmed me for the moment. This calm lasted briefly as I noticed that amongst the dirty glassware the venomous skankbag was too lazy to wash were my buddies and my three near full beers. When we pointed this fact out to the venomous skankbag she ignored us at first.

“Those aren’t your fucking beers so just stop fucking crying like a bunch of pussies and drink what the fuck is in front of you,” she said after further questioning.

I have never finished a pint faster in my life. I was done with being disrespected and out the door in less than two minutes. Someone that bad at their job should be not just be fired but marched in front of a firing squad. At the very least she should be forced to seek an occupation more suited to her skill set like returning to the corner she was hatched at to commonly walk the street.  

10 Server Commandments

May 3, 2013

The service you get when you go out to eat dinner a lot of times can make or break your experience. No matter how good the food is if I repeatedly get bad service from the same place I will stop going. Bad service creates an uncomfortable ambiance and can be insulting. In the service industry your livelihood is the gratuity you receive for your service and you have to earn it every day.

Granted as someone who works in the industry you would expect me to be a very hard man to please and at times I can be. But if you ask anyone who currently works as a server they will all agree their fellow service industry employees are usually the best tippers. I believe in tip karma and in order to maintain balance in our strange world I always take care of my brethren. When I get bad service I tip twenty percent. When I get good service I am most likely going to help make your night and quite possibly your weekend.

In order to consistently make twenty percent as a server there are ten basic rules to follow to keep your customer fat, drunk and generous. When I say basic I am not saying being a server is easy because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Being a server is like having to run over hot coals for four to six hours straight while screaming customers jab your sides with javelins. When things go wrong servers usually get blamed by the customer, the kitchen and their manager so on a nightly basis there are multiple people to please.

That being said these basic rules I am about to lay out are easy enough that a blind monkey with one arm could execute them. That is why when a seemingly normal human cannot follow the ten basic commandments of being an efficient and successful server it is very frustrating. To be in the presence of blatant ignorance and stupidity angers me to no end especially when the person portraying these traits expects me to give them money for their services.

So to all you servers out there who can’t figure out why you average six percent in tips I give you the Ten Server Commandments:

Rule One:  Act like you like your job. Now I know a lot of servers hate their jobs for various different reasons and that’s okay. People in every field of employment hate their jobs. However, when the hatred you have for your job reaches a table of customers it is not okay. Part of being a good server is making your customer believe that there is no place in the world you would rather be and there is nothing you would rather be doing then serving them food. If you hate serving so much that you can’t fake it for intervals of less then a minute when dealing with my table it is time for you to choose a new career.

Rule Two:  Never, ever under any circumstance chew gum while serving me. The second I see you pop a bubble I will be asking for my check and leaving. I don’t know if there is something that makes me angrier than having someone taking my order as they noisily and rudely chew on gum like a cow chomping on grass.

Rule Three:  Do not camp at my table. It’s one thing to be friendly and engaging, it’s another to tell me your life story including how your baby daddy just left you again and that your second kid might have to go without for his birthday because the restaurant has been slow. I don’t care. Believe me. If I wanted to talk to someone as I ate I would have sat at the bar.

Rule Four: Be sober. I know this seems like common sense but you would be shocked at how many restaurant employees across the world show up shitfaced to work on a regular basis. If you reek like vodka red bull’s and shots of fireball and continually sway as you try to focus on how I want my burger cooked than I will most likely let your clueless manager who couldn’t manage their way out of a wet paper bag with scissors in their hands know that their employee is intoxicated and costing them business.

Rule Five: Write everything down. I don’t care if you have been waiting tables for your entire life and claim to be able to recite every order you have ever taken if you don’t have a pen and paper out I automatically assume that my order will be fucked up.

Rule Six: Always keep whatever beverage or beverages I have in front of me full. This might be the most important rule to me. Keeping me full of my beverage of choice keeps me happy and makes me more generous when the bill arrives.

Rule Seven: Never blame the kitchen. I hate it when after my food runs long or comes out wrong the first thing the sorry no account server says is, “Sorry, the kitchen’s been fucking up all day I don’t know what’s wrong with them.” This immediately says to me that you are terrible at your job because you just threw the person who works five times as hard as you and makes twenty times less money under the bus in hopes that your fuck up won’t affect your tip.

Rule Eight: Don’t disappear. Sometimes once food gets dropped a server will automatically assume that their guests who are eating are good to be left unattended to for a while. This is a mistake. Once I start eating that’s when I start needing help. As I eat I drink so please reference Rule Six. If my beer glass stays empty for over five minutes because you are out back smoking or talking to your girlfriend if and when you return to my table you will be entering into an extremely hostile situation.

Rule Nine: Don’t drop my check until I ask you to. Nothing says you want me to leave and fast more then giving me my check before I’ve asked for it. Just because I finished my eighth beer does not mean I am done for the evening. At the diner during breakfast fine no problem drop away, but during dinner service keep that check open and in your apron until I say differently.

Rule Ten: Don’t check the tip right in front of me. If I am still at my table and the only thing keeping you from getting off work is grabbing my check book so you can finish your checkout than by all means swipe it off my table. However, do not open the book in front of me so you can read the tip line on my credit card receipt or count the change I left you for the effort. This is offensive and bush league and the next time it happens to me I am taking my tip back.

If you are a server and you follow the Ten Server Commandments then myself and people like me who over tip on a regular basis out of fear of an invisible karmic force that rules our universe will not only tip you fat but we will also continue to come back.

That’s A Record

March 29, 2013

I recently received a letter from a certain four letter website that legally I am not allowed to name in this blog. I assumed it was another restraining order against me which would put my grand total up to seventeen. Upon opening it I was shocked to find out that it had nothing to do with legal rights at all. Instead it was a letter congratulating me on breaking the website’s all time record for most one star reviews in a six hour period.

At first I was highly offended and began to draw up a plan for revenge against each person who dared to say I was bad at my job. Sanity settled in shortly thereafter as I realized that the average IQ of people who write negative reviews on that slanderous four letter website is lower than that of a bag of dirt.

I received three prizes for my record setting performance. One was a free lifetime subscription to the four letter site I shall not name legally. Unfortunately since I would never set foot on such an asinine website I elected to donate that portion of my prize to the charity of my choice, “The Old Broken Down Stripper Home” located in Las Vegas, NV.

My second prize was a plaque with each review written in the blood of the human of my choice. Third was an audio version of each review read aloud by none other the President of the United States, Barack Obama. I know what you’re thinking how on earth could that be possible? Four negative reviews in 360 minutes, this guy must be the biggest schmuck in the world?

Anyone ignorant enough to say such a thing about such a fine author has obviously never experienced a Sunday Wing Night at the fine restaurant I work at. From 4pm to 10 pm I witness human beings who act like a pack of zombies who have stumbled across an elementary school at recess. Wing sauce and ranch dressing is splayed across the walls like blood from a gruesome murder scene.

Not everyone who comes through the door on a wing night is an animal. Only about thirty-four percent are. Of course that thirty-four percent is enough to drive a normally calm and quiet lad to the brink of murderous rage. They are entitled, rude, and disrespectful and swear that people who work at restaurants are complete morons.  What they don’t realize is that they are actually morons and if their own parents saw how they acted in public on wing night they would most likely commit suicide.

These four particular morons whose ridiculous personal attacks on me on social media will soon be displayed in one of their blood (guess which one) happened to all agree that I am unfit to perform my job. While obviously I dispute this ridiculous claim I will allow you, the general drunken public, to decide for yourselves.

The following is a timeline obtained from the Encinitas Police Department who were tailing me for an unrelated disturbance. These notes are from the afternoon of Sunday, March 10 2013 from the hours of 4pm (when wing night begins) and 10 pm (when wing night ends). The officer on duty gladly offered up his retelling of my interaction with all four of the swine who felt the need to shit talk me in a public forum:

4:01 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a young punk by the first fire pit. Apparently the punk has ordered a plate of wings and without eating even one asked for a to-go box. The restaurant manager explains that due to the ridiculously cheap price for wings that the special applies to dine-in customers only.

The young punk throws a fit claiming he ordered them with the intention of eating them there but he had suddenly and mysteriously lost his appetite. The restaurant manager laughs in his face, grabs him a box and tells him next week this won’t be allowed.

5:57 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a couple sat at a table by the front window. The girl who has just turned twenty-one claims there is no vodka in her vodka cranberry. The manager explains all his bartenders pour at least a shot and a half in all their mixed drinks. She argues. He offers her a free shot. She declines.

The restaurant manager brings her a free shot anyways. She begins to cry. The couple gets up to leave and despite consuming food and their drinks have done so without paying. In the middle of an extremely busy restaurant the restaurant manager has to chase the couple down in the parking lot to get payment all the while being belligerently belittled by this hysterically crying skank.

7:10 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a table of twenty-two year old stoners who are so high they can barely even complete a sentence. There are five empty plates of wings in front of the four of them. They claim that they only ordered four plates of wings yet are being charged for five. The restaurant manager points out that they ate all the wings.

The stoners refuse to pay for the wings they claim they didn’t order. There is a standoff. The restaurant manager begins to reach for his stainless steel bottle opener referred to by most as Excalibur, which it is assumed he plans to use to beat these dickbags about the head with. He thinks better of it and begrudgingly takes the wings off the bill. As they leave he informs them that he knows they ordered all five plates and that they were never welcome back.

9:35 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a table of college kids. He has been waved over by a twenty-three old blonde girl dressed like a whore. She doesn’t like her beer she ordered and wants to exchange it for something different. The restaurant manager points to the beer menu where it clearly states there are no refunds on beer and that he can get her something else but that she will be charged for both. She gasps. He asks if she would like another drink. She shakes her head no disgustedly and dismissively waves him off.

Twenty four minutes later the same future common street walker who didn’t like her beer approaches the restaurant manager as he is helping to break down the host stand. She tells him that he was rude and the way he treated her had ruined her night. She was embarrassed by their interaction and didn’t think he was equipped to handle a customer service position. She recommended he let the rest of the staff handle customers since he was such an asshole and that she would never be back. The restaurant manager gladly thanked her for that last fact.

I would like to personally thank Officer Jon Domino of the Encinitas PD for donating his notes so I could show you, the general drunken public, the kind of butt fuckery my staff and I have to deal with on a weekly basis. What I found shocking upon reflecting on my interactions with the angry reviewers who put my name in the record books was that any one of them knew how to read or write. It just goes to show what kind of low class element this wreck less four letter website that I legally can’t name empowers to be dicks.

The Whistle Won’t Work

April 14, 2012

There is a special place in hell for anyone disrespectful enough to whistle at a bartender in an attempt to get their attention. In fact I believe that in this unique corner of hell those culprits who have been caught whistling rudely in their past are forced to watch repeat episodes of American Idol on full blast with hourly intervals of random Stained songs that get pumped through a musical catheter of sorts injecting depressing, repetitive, shitty music into their bodies via their private parts.

When I walk my dog I usually let him off the leash so that he may shit and piss freely. If he runs off or is hidden behind a bush I will on occasion whistle in an attempt to get him to come back to me. It works great on a dog because they are simple creatures who can’t necessarily comprehend words, so loud noises are one of the few ways to communicate with them.

Bartenders are not dogs. Therefore just because your Bud Light bottle is empty doesn’t give you the right to treat them like one. Believe me “bro” you waiting an extra twenty seconds to get a fresh bottle of domestic piss won’t kill you but whistling at a bartender might. We are a prideful bunch who put up with a lot of shit on a nightly basis and if you whistle at the wrong grumpy English bartender on a day that his favorite football team has lost to a girl’s high school soccer team it may prove to be the last thing you do on this earth.

The sound of a whistling drunk can make your skin crawl and when it is directed at you the urge to kill can be overwhelming. You must fight this urge with every bone in your body. Murder is the easy way out for both of you. Anyone ignorant enough to whistle at a bartender must be scolded and punished in a loud enough manner to embarrass them in front of everyone else sitting at the bar. It is important to let them know that you are not a dog. You then must explain to them that if they ever whistle at a bartender again they will be 86ed from drinking alcohol anywhere including in their own basement. Then, based on their response you decide whether or not you have the large man standing on the door break both their legs.

At the very least, whistling at the bartender is a great way to go thirsty for the rest of the evening. Not only will you be skipped, but you will be ignored in such a blatant manner that no matter how dumb you are you will get the fact that you fucked up. If you whistle at me I will help everyone else in the entire bar even if I have to start offering table service before I will even consider serving you again. I will tell my barback to go on break so I can run glassware in lieu of pouring you anything. I will enter every credit card slip into my computer as slowly as possible so that you may crave your drink for just a little longer. And then once I have no viable way to possibly ignore you anymore I will smoke a cigarette.

I bet you are wondering if you can’t call a bartender bro or sugar nipples or big dog or baby or snap your fingers or scream or whistle, how are you ever going to get a drink around here? The answer to that is only found when one truly understands that using these words or whistling is actually not going to get you served faster. It will give you just the opposite. Bartenders have a great memory and hold a grudge all the way to their grave. Once you are labeled a whistler you are a whistler for life. In fact other bartenders who you haven’t ever whistled at will be able to recognize you for what you are and the drinks will continually be coming out slower and slower until one day when they finally stop.

You the general drunken public should be offended as well. The last thing you want as you’re peacefully sipping a frosty pint is for some bag of dick to stroll up to the bar and whistle as loud as he can. I recommend the next time this happens you stop what you are doing and stare at the culprit in disgust. Feel free to point and I highly encourage you alert others that there has been a serious bar infraction. Let’s make it clear to this disrespectful douchebag and those like him that we as a people will not stand for that sort of behavior any longer .

Churchill’s Renaissance

March 2, 2012

On the eve of the third Churchill’s Renaissance I encourage all to take a deep breath in preparation of what promises to be the greatest day in the history of beer in America. Believe me; I know what I’m talking about. I just finished reading a book that reported the history of beer in our fine country and besides the day when my beloved Yuengling expanded their operations down into Tampa I can’t recall a more important day in beer’s history. Our beer lineup is something sculpted from the bust of an ancient Roman warrior with many kills notched on his belt. The food will be irresistible and mouths will hungrily salivate so much people will have to spit before drinking their delicious beer so as not to water them down. There will be spittoons located in various places around the pub so please spit respectfully.

When I leave the pub tonight around 3:00 in the morning there will be overanxious campers setting up in the parking lot eager to gain the first spot in line. While I sleep this line will grow and grow and grow until it reaches down to Denny’s and back. People will be scarfing down breakfast burritos while they game plan the best way to get as many glasses of Churchill’s Finest Hour as possible. Others will work off a makeshift draft list secretly handed to them by a rogue employee and try to decide which ten tasters they should begin with. What they don’t know is that I am the rogue employee who handed them this list they are carefully studying and what they won’t realize until they make it through the pub’s doors is that it is a decoy. No, there will be no cask of Michelob Celebrate, there will be no nitro Bud Light Lime and unfortunately we just ran out of our last keg of 08 Labatt’s Blue.

Renaissance is a celebration of craft beer and food, but it is also a day where we get to celebrate the San Diego beer community. Churchill’s knows what you the general public wants and we strive to pour it down your throats. We plan to offer the best service available and know that our customers will treat us with respect and patience on such a special day. What that means is the following words will be banned from the pub that day: Bro. People using the forbidden word will be forced to drink warm PBR out of a dog bowl we plan on placing on the floor of the porta potty out front. We will allow one slip up per person but the moment your bro count exceeds one prepare for swift and harsh repercussions. We have made this rule not just for us, but for you as well since no one wants to see a forty year old man yelling bro and waving dollar bills in the air in an attempt to order a glass of white zinfandel.

The beers at Renaissance will be strong so be prepared to be drunk. The key will be to continually eat our phenomenal food throughout the day. There will be some over intoxicated people no matter how much food they consume. Please don’t judge them. This is a beer festival featuring many rare beers so to blame someone for indulging a little too much would be unfair. That is until they vomit. As soon as liquids stop entering their mouths and begin exiting them judgment is encouraged. Now this won’t happen often, but it will happen at least once. The key is to stay out of the line of fire. If you witness someone who is sweating, red in the face or shaking uncontrollably notify you nearest Churchill’s employee and we will escort this person out the door and down the street so they may vomit in a safe and isolated place. Failure to notify us may result in a lunch in your lap that wasn’t yours.

All and all Renaissance will be the most fun you’ve had since losing your virginity and I encourage all of you to join us at some point that day. While you may miss Younger or Finest hour there are 5o other incredible beers right behind them. To the dopes I passed the decoy menu off too do not expect an apology and prepare to be ridiculed when you attempt to order a taster of the bourbon barrel aged Stone Light Bro.

GULPU Quick Tips

February 11, 2012

The craze over GULPU.com has reached a fevered pitch. We are so overwhelmed with your submissions we still haven’t had the opportunity to launch the official website. We beg of you to remain patient. With the help of our parent company GuerillaDeSwine Productions we are currently interviewing web designers to get GULPU.com off the ground. We haven’t had any luck yet. The interview usually falls apart right around the swimsuit competition which is the ninth stage of the official GuerillaDeSwine Productions hiring process. Never fear we are confident that we will come across the right designer to bring GULPU.com to life. Anyone interested please send your resume plus head shots to HR@GuerillaDeSwineProductions.com with the headline of GULPU.com web monkey.

In the meantime we at GULPU.com have come to realize that since we understand what it means to be a shitty customer it is our moral duty to offer hints to help the general public as to how they can improve themselves as consumers. It is our goal to eliminate ignorant and rude behavior completely from the business world. In order to do this we compiled a team of experts the likes of which this world has never seen. We locked these experts in a room without windows and fed them raw meat and booze for seven hours a day for seven days. As a result they came up with three tips to help the general public be better at getting served.

It all starts with common sense. We all have it, allegedly, so use it. If you order a well done burger, don’t complain that it is overcooked. Check that; don’t order a well done burger. If there isn’t any food left on your plate you probably won’t be receiving a refund, so don’t bother asking. Long Island Iced Teas are strong so if you order one and then complain that it is too strong that complaint will most likely fall upon deaf ears. When at a bar have both your ID and money out. Competent bartenders take pride in getting you your drink as fast as possible and would appreciate the same common courtesy. Nothing frustrates a bartender more than watching some fucktard dig through their wallet for five minutes searching for payment for a product that’s already delivered. That sort of stupidity is a good way to get ignored for the duration of your evening.

Next up is politeness. Unfortunately due to the high number of parents who are intellectually ill-equipped to raise a child the notion of being polite has been lost on several generations of customers. Being polite is simple and is always more pleasurable then being rude. What that means is don’t whistle or snap your fingers, don’t bang on the bar, don’t roll your empty bottle around and don’t wave money in people’s faces. Don’t yell, and more importantly certainly don’t yell baby, bro, barkeep, wench or garcon. Now, most of the people dumb enough to do stuff like that truly believe that not only are they funny but that they are endearing themselves to the person who is serving them. That is a lie and acting like a jackass will never get you anything but skipped.

Lastly, please don’t ask stupid questions. We can’t stress how important this particular quick tip is. When you ask a stupid question not only does someone have to take the time to listen to your asinine question, but they then have to offer an answer that will be a failed attempt at not embarrassing you. Our experts came up with several examples.

A man approaches the bar. He nods over to the jukebox.

“Does your jukebox play music?”

Another guy walks up to a bar with fifty taps.

“Do you guys sell pints of beer?”

A girl calls the restaurant on Christmas Day and upon someone answering the phone asks, “Are you guys open?”

This may sound like a logical way to find out if a place is open on a holiday, but I assure you that someone isn’t at work on a day the business is closed answering the phone just to tell people they aren’t open. If someone is there to answer the phone that means the place is open.

We know that some of you with actual working brains will say that these rules seem like they are easy enough to be left unspoken. Unfortunately for every one person who gets it there are ten bros lined up right behind you ready to make our lives miserable. We at GULPU.com urge people to share these rules with their friends so that we as a society can improve the lives of service industry people everywhere.

Televised Demise

February 4, 2012

Poets sit like sickness

bleeding my pen

watching my lines

shadows cast between

hate-filled eyes

believing spoken-wise rhyme

could ever outwit my mind

cuz whiskey always

did intrigue this scribe

who loves

dark and empty bars

that allow chain-smokers

to drink all night.

A frightening sight

when held beneath the light

a belly bereft by bourbon

a brain beleaguered

by any hallucinogenic available

forever searching for

an endless high

to brighten up these

star-less skies

left black and empty

by countless lies

that’ll haunt my writing

till every pen

runs dry

a sign to anyone

who reads that all

creative thought has died.

And on that day

I’ll be in me pub

buried in the corner

spitting literature’s eulogy

pausing only for

muffled shots and

occasional cries.


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