The Irish Woman and I decided to go out to lunch today.

I drove downtown and met her at 4th Street Live, which is one of the efforts to get people to use downtown Louisville as something other than an open air drug market.

We decided to try something new today, so we went to a sports bar we hadn’t tried yet.

We made our way up to the place, and got a booth.

The place had a bar area, several tables, and two banks of booths. Between the booths was a platform about 8 feet wide, with a mirrored column and two poles rising up from it to the ceiling. We took a booth so we could talk in some peace and watch the basketball game.

We ordered our meals and watched some of the Tennessee/Oklahoma State game. As we were finishing up, I looked over and noticed that one of the brass poles needed polishing. I then noticed that it was a brass pole, and had circular smudges from hands and other body parts on it from its base up to about 8 feet.

My guess is that it’s a normal bar and grill during the day, but during the evening it’s a bit more, shall we say, risque in order to draw in a larger crowd.

I mentioned my observations to the Irish Woman, who declared that she hadn’t noticed, but now that I mentioned it, it did look like a stripper pole.

Guess we won’t be taking the kids there for dinner.

Check this out over at the Fail Blog.

I have been in a running battle lately between a doctor’s office and my insurance company. I may have to use this technique next time I mail out a check to them.

Found these over at IMAO.

My favorite is:

According to one rather obscure Irish legend, a ringing in your ears means a deceased friend stuck in Purgatory is ringing a bell to ask for you to pray for him/her. Or that you got drunk and passed out in the church belltower again, Father.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Saw this over at Are We Lumberjacks, and it was the best laugh I’ve had all day.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

This asshat took money from other people, used it to either finance his own lavish lifestyle or gave it away to make himself look good in the public eye.

Now a lot of his victims, who had something when he started in on them, have nothing. And he and his wife try to argue that a $62 million nest egg they’ve put together shouldn’t be considered the fruits of a crime.

Pure balls, nothing but pure balls.

I hope he spends as many years as they can get out of him cleaning portapotties with an old toothbrush. When he dies, I hope they toss his remains into a cesspool so that he can slowly decay into fertilizer. Then I hope they use it to fertilize a swamp somewhere in New Jersey.

Hey, Bernie, welcome to the federal pound-me-in-the-ass! Jerk!

A claymore hitch cover.

It’s what Dad wants for Father’s Day.

my cooking isn’t as good as it sounds.

Scene: A semi-suburban, semi-agricultural neighborhood in Louisville County. A father and daughter are getting ready to leave for the day. Father has put a well marinated pork roast in the crock pot for the day, and the kitchen is beginning to smell of garlic and other spices as it warms up.

DaddyBear: Mmmmm, doesn’t dinner smell good?

Girlie Bear: Is that what that smell is?

Daddy Bear: Yes, that’s dinner cooking. Doesn’t it smell good?

Girlie Bear: I guess so. I thought I just had bad breath.

Nothing like the honesty of a 10 year old to deflate your ego.

For those of you who are considering what you should do to prepare for and how to respond to civil disruptions, it looks like this will be a great story for you.

I’ve read another story arch on Big Hollywood by Avrech. He’s a good author and interesting read.

Enjoy

show this to the Irish Woman, but I probably will: