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8:36 a.m. - 2004-03-17

KUCINICH IN 2012!!!

Looks like the people in America have chosen John Kerry as our Democratic contender for the White House over my boy Dennis Kucinich.

I guess the majority of Democrats in this country didn't want to sit around the house all day smoking weed and watching Spongebob Squarepants like I did.

I hope you people can live with yourselves.

Now I might have to go out and get a real job.

You dirty American bastards.


Speaking of jobs, last night was a nightmare.

I get to work and the first thing I notice is that only one of my CD players is working.

The other one is screwed.

So I put a disc in the player that's working and start trying to figure out what's wrong with the other player.

Ten minutes into it, the bartender comes up and says "The crowd wants to hear country music."

Gee.

I would have never guessed the people wearing cowboy hats would have wanted to hear country.

And I was playing Blondie's "Heart of Glass".

Silly fucking me.

I ask her if she knew anything about the screwed up CD player and she said she didn't.

I put in a country disc. I'm not sure of the artist because all country singers sound the same to me. They all have that twang that sounds like somebody's twisting their balls every ten seconds.

And I go back to work on the CD player.

A minute later ... a fucking MINUTE later, the bartender comes back.

"Can you turn it up?" she asks. "They can't hear it."

"Sure," I said as I got up off the floor with a bunch of wires in my hand and turned up the volume a tad.

I get back on the floor and start fiddling with the amplifiers again.

THIRTY SECONDS LATER she comes back up.

"Can you turn it down?" she asks. "It's too loud now."

Now.

I try to be super nice on the job. They're paying me damned good money and I feel like I should leave the attitude at home for such a decent lump sum o' cash.

But I might have just lost it a bit.

Just a bit.

A tad.

Perhaps between a tad and a smidgen.

I got on the microphone and said "Welcome to (insert bar name here). My name is Uncle Bob. If the music's too loud, you're too old. If you have a request, hold on to it because only one of my CD players is working and we're starting off on the wrong foot tonight. Hopefully everything will be fixed soon and we can resume normal activities in just a few minutes."

I may have added a few "fucking"s in there as well.

Maybe about 11 of them.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER I was able to get some sound out of the "broken" CD player.

And normal activities resumed.

Until Diamond Dave came in.

Diamond Dave is by far the absolute worst karaoke singer you will ever have the displeasure of hearing.

He gives it all he's got.

He loves to sing.

He just can't sing.

Now we were trying to get by without actually doing karaoke last night.

Scratch that.

I was trying to get by without doing karaoke last night.

But Diamond Dave, this shaggy haired 50 year-old man wants to do karaoke.

So we drag out the karaoke machine, monitor, microphone, books, discs, etc.

For Diamond Dave.

His first attempt at assaulting our eardrums for the evening?

AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long."

I knew as soon as he handed me the slip of paper with the song title on it that we were in trouble.

I cued up the song.

I called him to the stage.

And Diamond Dave proceeded to make everyone within a 15 mile radius cringe and curl up into fetal positions for 4:02.

Since nobody else in the place wanted to sing karaoke, the floor was all Diamond Dave's.

And Diamond Dave took full advantage of the fact that on a slow Tuesday night, he was the star.

He must have sang 25 songs last night.

It was just like a Bruce Springsteen concert.

If, in fact, Bruce had just swallowed handfuls of broken glass before taking the stage.

At first, the crowd was amused by Diamond Dave's horrific renditions of modern day classics and encouraged him with their sarcastic applause.

But after a while, even they tired of this drunken bastard's desire to entertain them and quit paying attention to him, focusing instead on bar napkins and beer bottle labels.

I hung in there though.

I would chime in at the end of each song and proclaim Diamond Dave to be the new Sinatra.

When he's actually closer to the new Wesley Willis.

I dare anyone in that bar to say I don't earn my money the hard way when it comes to Karaoke Night.

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