Sunday, November 06, 2005

I see drunk people.

When I walk into a bar and a kind gentleman in a Hellacopters t-shirt calls me by name and hands me a Makers, I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of trap.
The bar was Slim’s Downtown, Raleigh, N.C. the gentleman (and newest Ghost Boy) was Joe and the trap was only for Carolinian lovers of heapin’ helpins’ of mad sick Liquid Ghost Tour technology.

The rolling of the ball this Saturday night was kicked off by The Ghost of Saturday Night in top-notch ex-pat Gothamite style. Tales of streets and love and heartbreak to make one’s knees gooey and worthless made everybody wish they were a Regular.

My plate-spinning act went off to great acclaim. I had a brief scare during the ventriloquism portion of the show (which truth be told, actually added to the suspense) and all the trained lemurs remembered their cues and refrained from running up my pant legs. A top-notch entertainment, if I do say so myself.

Plates, dummies and lemurs cleared from the stage, King Richard Bacchus (that mad, twisted dwarf) called forth each and every Justified Ancient from MuMu to Zebulon and proceeded to breath fire in a manner surprising to even this observer (Listen to his Martin D-18 Dreadnaught go BANG!)

With Shelby’s lovely lady cousin witches, Meighan, Rebecca & Maria (much boil, much bubble, nary a sign of trouble) watching over us and Miss Min coming in with her merry band from Trasheboro, the room continued it’s thrumping well into the night, taxing Bartender Joe (he of the Hellacopter t-shirt) and his young ward and bassist, Jimmy, who came in off the bench for some stellar bartenditry of his own.

Slim’s Downtown is the bar that has set the bar high, America.

What you got?

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