To put an end to Karaoke once and for all.
If you know me, there's no doubt that you know how I feel about the intersection of King and West Street in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. Long before Manassas and Woodbridge discovered that "GW's" was no longer a country bar, I had already lived in the house that the Rock-It Grill built (and broke). The Washington Post calls our old haunt, "lowbrow and proud of it". I prefer to think of it as an incubation chamber for the CDC's sexually transmitted disease laboratory.
The line, however, has been crossed. It's time to burn that dump to the ground. American Idol, a show I dislike with the red-hot passion of a thousand suns, actually had a former Rock-It alum (Fat Ho Marry) make it to the early tryouts before the rubbing of her thighs against her windpants drove the judges (not the celeb ones, the faux ones) to return her to the curb from whence she came. Her loss is our gain, because invariably she'd be there on Friday night with her ego and the place would be over fire code.
For the record, what finally pushed this over the line is an article on MSNBC by Craig Berman:
Kinnik Sky followed with Gretchen Wilson’s “Here for the Party,” and while the song was fun and the performance was entertaining, it felt more like karaoke night at the Rock-It Grill than a future star’s breakout performance.
: : rubs eyes : :
Hello obscure local reference.
Hi Craig, are you with me? Do you think the rest of the United States (whom, you hope, will read your horse-shit writeup about this Nielsen-fluffy piece of plastic Americana) is going to know WHAT THE FUCK THE ROCK-IT GRILL IS???
Do you think fat sluts in Sheboygan are text messaging each other about how drunk Gary was last night, and what little Laura said to them when their credit card wouldn't go through? Do you really think that water coolers all over Los Angeles are a buzz right now with what slut went home with what dirty pool player?
Is that what you think Craig? Is it?
Keep thinking it, because the Intellegencia will be by this afternoon to settle this matter, you talentless oxygen-thief.