Dear Jeffery’s,

Through the  years in Clarksville, while I’ve enjoyed the many other fine restaurants on West Lynn, I’d skipped you because I thought, that’s just a little to rich for my blood. Valet parking in this neighborhood? Really?  Ok whatever, I’m prejudiced, cause I can walk there and your customers always seem to be trying to kill me when I’m on my bike.

However last night, Groupon in hand, we broke the seal so to speak. At first blush you’ve got a nice place, although it does seem to cater exclusively to douches and blue-hairs (of which we are neither) but the wine is acceptable, and overall things are going well. Jeff (can i call you Jeff? you ripped me off so I’m going to), here’s where things started go poorly… maybe it was the fact the at we walked up to the place as opposed to rolling up in our Jag like everyone else (we don’t have a jag that was humor.. a form of communication your staff doesn’t really comprehend), maybe it was telling the server we have a discount and she assumed we would be poor tippers (I always tip at least 20% on the full check amount), or maybe it was just hot back there in the kitchen (unlike three out of the four dishes we ordered) and you guys were having a bad night. But nothing excuses the geologic age of a wait we had to sit through from one course to the next (I’ll give you that presentation of the check was very snappy), the luke warm dough lumps you’re grandly calling gnocchi, or the comically small portions to which the only benefit was making me feel like a giant while eating them.

So here’s the thing Jeff, you’ve been there for a while and i can respect that in the cut-throat world of the restaurateur. And you’ve provided an anchor for the other, much preferred spots on the street like Zocalo. Your barman can make a mean drink, and desert was tasty. But so help me, if i ever find myself in a position of eating a full meal at your establishment ever again, i hope you won’t mind if I walk next door and get a plate of non-douchey, reasonably-sized, properly-seasoned tacos. I’m sure they won’t be arranged as artfully as your plates, but at least that way I won’t inconvenience your staff by having them do their jobs.

The Busy Majority

My kind of rally…

We’re looking for the people who think shouting is annoying, counterproductive, and terrible for your throat; who feel that the loudest voices shouldn’t be the only ones that get heard; and who believe that the only time it’s appropriate to draw a Hitler mustache on someone is when that person is actually Hitler. Or Charlie Chaplin in certain roles.

Are you one of those people? Excellent. Then we’d like you to join us in Washington, DC on October 30 — a date of no significance whatsoever — at the Daily Show’s “Rally to Restore Sanity.” Ours is a rally for the people who’ve been too busy to go to rallies, who actually have lives and families and jobs (or are looking for jobs) — not so much the Silent Majority as the Busy Majority. If we had to sum up the political view of our participants in a single sentence… we couldn’t. That’s sort of the point.

Also counter-balanced by Colbert’s March to Keep Fear Alive

Hermine

Ladies and lads, to the right is exhibit a on how to properly approach landing in a tropical storm, or as sane people would call it: 300 people crammed like sardines into a pressurized metal tube, while a lowest-bidder-union working tries to pilot you from a few miles above the planet’s comfortable surface, through tropical rain bands and gently plop you a on a narrow strip of concrete in a 5-star Texas thunderstorm. Have I mentioned how much i enjoy air travel?

The cookie was a nice touch though.

Sports

We watched Invictus last night…the take-away being if Obama would just get behind the Aggies, we could probably save the country.

Oregon and Seattle

Well, yeah I guess the Oregon coastline is a little more dramatic than, say, Surfside.  More pics…