Why Rain Is Great News For Nightlife

As operators and employees gripe about the weather forecast, I see a silver lining in all these clouds: the weather may keep people from scooting off to oceans far away and also stop them from energy-burning daytime activities. Clubs may pack with rain refugees. The Hamptons may get washed out, the Jersey shore will surely suffer. Plus, my flowers are loving it.

This column must note the engagement of my pal Allegra Riggio to Mad Men and Sherlock Holmes actor Jared Harris. Allegra is a lighting designer known to clubland, and is an all-around beautiful person. She is gushing and spouting on social media. It couldn’t happen to a nicer person. I have RSVPd to a little soiree she is hosting and will tell you all about it after. 

Sailor Jerry Rum will celebrate the 40th anniversary of the old tattoo artist they named their brand after this coming Wednesday. Artists from Three Kings (my favorite inkers) and Matt Van Cura from invisible NYC are on board for this festival. The party will be at the Brooklyn bar with a bowling alley: The Gutter. It starts at 7pm and although it goes till 2am, it skews early.

I often consult middle employment situations. Clubs call me if they are looking for someone, and bar and waitstaff who are looking often ask if I know of anything. I am quick to give a recommendation to those who deserve it. It’s better than lending money.

I know a joint looking for a GM and am having a hard time. The reason for this is the job is one rung below owner. Investment types often team up with successful promo types and decide to do a club.

Problem with that is who is going to run it? Hire, fire, order cups, accounting, security, cleaning, repairs, legal matters: all are tedious work for a non-fabulous mindset. Promoters usually don’t learn that stuff in their travels, so GM types are offered points…ownership to make it all work. 

The GM job is therefore possibly the hardest job to fill, and although they often make way less than bar or waitstaff, it is just one small step for man (or woman) on that trip to to the moon.

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Coping with the Election: Five Tattoos in Two Days

As each new news day brings me a bit closer to the reality of President Romney, I seek distraction. I found some last weekend at Magic Cobra Tattoo Society and Three Kings, where I got five tattoos in two days. The pain that I’m used to distracted me from the debates. I keep wondering what kind of retarded hermit could be "undecided" at this point. It seems that Ohio will decide it all, and I rue that day when people in Ohio decide my fate. I spent a year in Cleveland one night and Akron made Cleveland seem like Vegas. Don’t get me started on Cincinnati.

I remember that horrible election night when Bush beat Gore or whatever happened. I was at Spa where we were hosting Hillary Clinton’s victory bash. Ben Affleck was there, and I kept bringing him into the office where Florida was the decider. By the way, Mr. Affleck is the nicest guy in the world. He was in tears as victory turned into defeat. Now I am fearful again. It seems like déjà vu, and no amount of ink will save me, although I’m getting another  tattoo this weekend. For this election, I will head to White Rabbit, 145 E. Houston St., to pray as WashMachine presents Electoral Ruckus. My pal Joy Rider is part of the crew hosting this affair, and she always delivers and has a nice shoulder for me to cry on if it comes to that. Not sure what’s happening at the event, but here’s what they say:

Hot wire the coverage, hijack the commercials, and re-edit real time: live audio/video manipulation of Election Day TV broadcasts by sound artist Jason Candler and experimental filmmaker Jimi Pantalon. Making your vote count all night long w/ DJs Cru Jones and The Butcha.

This sounds like fun. Until then I’ll check out my pal Clair Reilly-Roe at Aroma Espresso Bar, 161 W. 72nd St., tonight at 8pm or probably head back to Magic Cobra for a Hope tattoo. I was there the other night for the Paul Nathan book signing event hosted by Sailor Jerry Rum. Joe Truck, who owns the joint but now spends most of his time out west, and I compared notes on old places and old friends. It seems like we have been in the same room at the same time a zillion times. And it’ll probably happen again since I saw this killer Picasso tattoo he did and now I want it. My regular artist at the shop Adam Korothy is off to New Orleans for a convention. I’m very worried, and there aren’t enough tattoos or Sailor Jerry Rum or singers at coffee shops to calm me down. Halloween might help…more on that tomorrow.

My Editor Is Wrong About ‘Silver Linings Playbook’

As a writer for this august publication of record, it is my sad and solemn duty to report upon all of my editor’s gravest errors. In this case, it is his willful dismissal and obstreperous refusal to see the relative merit and entertainment value in Silver Linings Playbook (2012), which is so totally good enough to kill a few hours with, so watch your mouth, Tyler.

My esteemed editor registered his disgust on his personal Tumblr before bragging about his remarkable state of domestic bliss at present:

Ten minutes into this movie, I thought, “What the hell is this shit?” Five minutes later, Andrew turned to me and said, “I hate this.” We left about an hour later. 

True love is sharing a hatred for overrated Oscar-bait movies, you guys.

First of all, “Oscar-bait”? The last thirty-odd Best Picture winners have been overwrought melodramas, not screwball romantic comedies. [Ed. note: "screwball?" More like blue balls. Also, please review Shakespeare in Love, Chicago, and last year’s winner, The Artist.] Secondly: you left an hour after you both agreed you hated it? Seats must have been pretty comfortable, dude. [Ed. note: We were in the front row. Perhaps that added to my discomfort? That and the choppy, extreme close-ups that David O. Russell employed foolishly.] Feels like you might as well have stuck it out to the end, where it becomes the exact kind of movie you like! [Ed. note: So, like, Wet Hot American Summer? Coal Miner’s Daughter? DO EITHER JANEANE GAROFALO OR SISSY SPACEK SHOW UP?] (Am I kidding? You’ll have to watch to find out.)

In conclusion, I’m not entirely sure what this man expected from the director of Flirting With Disaster, Three Kings, and ♥ Huckabees. [Ed. note: Solid point. None of those are particularly good, either.] I thought Silver Linings Playbook was slighter than these but slotted neatly into the oeuvre itself, delivering the philosophical laughs and credible absurdities I’ve come to associate with David O. Russell’s work, and I certainly can’t see what in it would so offend as to drive one from the theater. [Ed. note: Well, there was the whole thing where Jennifer Lawrence was playing a role that could have gone to Miley Cyrus or, hell, Juliette Lewis if it came out fifteen years ago. Both would be similarly competent at delivering lines in which they explain their feelings rather than bothering to subtely show them.] But perhaps it’s not for me to say how my editor has strayed from the path—only to note that he has.

Follow Miles Klee on Twitter. [Ed. note: I wouldn’t recommend it.]