Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Hooters in Germany
Sacramento has been passed over YET AGAIN, apparently, as a location for a new branch of Hooter’s. I don’t know that to be true, and it contradicts some “scuttlebutt” that I’ve actually picked up from Hooter’s waitresses. But as far as what I can find out, as Germany gets ready for its first Hooter’s restaurant, Sacramento maintains its reputation as a shimmering oasis of “something wrong with letting men have too much fun” in a continent-wide cold-beer hot-wing big-cleavage desert of “when men are happy, everybody else is happy.”
I’m so grateful to our local brittle feminist activists for keeping my virginal Sacramento eyeballs pure and free of the vision of any nice-looking young girls in trademark orange short-shorts. Thanks a lot, you smelly Big Berthas. I’m sure your husbands will stay at home and hand-wash the dishes while you watch Wheel of Fortune, now that there’s noplace else for them to be. Except for the strip clubs and nudie bars. Hey here’s a thought: I wonder how many dancers work at the sleazy juice bars, dancing on poles, who would much rather be in a wholesome family environment like Hooter’s, but can’t do it because you’re keeping the establishment out of the River City. Way to go. Way to champion womens’ rights, there.
But a heartfelt congratulations to Germany, and the men and women of Ramstein Air Base.
SAARBR�CKEN, Germany � Good news: The first Hooters restaurant in Germany is set to open in mid-October.
Sort of bad news: The well-known American sports bar/restaurant won�t open in Ramstein, as previously reported, but rather in Neunkirchen.
The location change isn�t devastating news, considering that Hooters and all the perks that come with it will be within a 30-minute drive for the nearly 54,000 Americans that live in the Kaiserslautern area. As an added bonus, Hooters officials are exploring the possibility of having weekend buses run from Ramstein Air Base to the Neunkirchen Hooters.
They even get a bus! I wouldn’t mind having a bus take me to Hooter’s, not at all. That’s enough to get me whining and snivelling in quiet jealousy.
Soon after I discovered how good Hooter’s was for business travel, including the infliction of extremely gentle debits from my expense account, I noticed something about Hooter’s. There are women in there. Lots of them! Women who work there, women who don’t, women who are on the payroll but not on shift. Women having fun. Women who clock out, drive home, change into something else that’s incredibly hot, and have their lunky boyfriends drive them straight back to Hooter’s. Old women, young women, fat women, skinny women.
And they all have great attitudes. You hold the door open for them and they say “thank you!” and really mean it. They don’t give you this West Coast icy stare as if to say “I could have gotten that myself, thank you very much…you dick.”
Man-bashing feminists just don’t have a home at Hooter’s. Which means…if a man goes there, he can get the hell away from them for an hour or two. That’s a little bit too much free will for the People’s Republic of Northern California I’m afraid. I’ll believe Sacramento is getting a Hooter’s, when I’m sitting in it, munching on a hot wing.
For more of my tedious bitching, pissing and moaning about no Hooter’s in Sacramento, you can skim over this post from last year. I note, with some measure of interest, that nothing’s changed since then.
I wonder if the waitresses would look different in a Hooter’s in Germany? My grandfather used to say — he was dead when I was born, so I heard this second-hand — that German women were kept on rigid diets of kraut and kielbasa because it made them rubenesque. That’s not really what he was quoted as saying…what he was quoted as saying was something like “A German man likes to slap his wife in the ass before he goes to work, and come home to find her still jiggling.”
I’m not entirely sure I would be okay with a waitress capable of jiggling her flesh for an entire day, taking my orders for BBQ sandwiches and hot wings in a pair of skimpy shorts. But years ago, I came to realize it was purely a matter of interpretation that Grandpa was talking about body styles. With a growing sense of the world around me, I realized it was quite possible he was commenting on the length of a German workday.
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