the last hurrah…
the final summer Friday as decreed by our heads of state here at the house of dead animals.
and the bastard was NOT about to pass up the opportunity to pull off one last off the books burger to round out the summer.
so I decided to hit the new place…
the woodbines…
the home of black ipa from Astoria…
the bastard has made a discover about the new dining in these long island cities…
it's like this…
my last stop before bed in a drink night is the bar behind my home…
my complex last stop that I have difficult feelings for…
because of the meatheads from the new towers, I often hate the place but not because of the place…
I just hate the meatheads…
that and perhaps my neighbors wife when she shouts down from her balcony because she saw a meathead friend and the decided to go down to the back porch to brag relentlessly like a goddam donkey all evening. yeah I hate her too. her husband is aight though. I'll spare him my scathing rebuke.
but they always shit down the racket at the time they promise to…
and that shit is lauded by your humble bastard…
a man's word is his bond and when he lives up to it, the hosts of heaven open up and say, 'I couldn't possibly call bullshit on that guy, he's straight up with the hood and won't smite him this good day'…
true story…
I've heard the host of heaven and they like to call bullshit often on folks. keeps the squares out of heaven.
but I'm here at the house of black ipa today for my last stand for two reasons…
well three…
for one… bars in this area has discovered that the place of complications ain't cheap and if you lower the price of your food and your brew, you have a fighting chance here
for two… the place ain't open for lunch. they ain't cheap and it's a down economy
and lastly… that place is right behind my apartment yo.
it ain't a off the books lunch if all the players in your life are I'm the know.
so…
it's been a good summer…
I'll see your ass next year
—the bastard
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