A new favorite blog to me, pointed out by writer Diana Abu Jaber is Nietzsche Family Circus where they randomly pair up a quote of Nietzsche with a panel of the old cartoon Family Circus:

The Nietzsche Family Circus

To make the individual uncomfortable, that is my task.       A pair of powerful spectacles has sometimes sufficed to cure a person in love.

We’ve been hearing about the reporter dude wearing a deuce t-shirt on TMZ. Hash Ash tracked down the images”

He looks like he could be one of us.

Always happy to post a picture of a deucer outside of the deuce.

Sam continues her sejour in Spain, with a trip over the Rock of Gibraltar to Marrakech, Morocco:

Way to go, Sam.

Fun Mike in Rome spots a familiar number:

Bravo, Mike.

Tres chic Janine poses with a Deuce ornament:

From Raven in Laconia, New Hampshire for Bike Week:

Send us YOUR vacations pix.

Saw the Marlins beat the Yankees 3-2 Saturday night. A fun, disparate Miami crowd mingled good naturedly with the die-hard Yankee fans.

Before the game the Marlin Manatees greeted the fans: [singlepic id=633 w=320 h=240 float=center]
There was a big crowd, and although the day had been hot, breezes wafted throughout Land Shark Stadium (It’ll always be Joe Robbie Stadium to me):

Because my friend Maria’s  husband, James, is a Manatee, we (with their son Sean), got to dance in the infield to the smoking sounds of Tito Nieves: [singlepic id=634 w=320 h=240 float=center]

It was fourteen years ago today that I was hired at the Deuce. When Mac asked me if I had ever worked at a bar, I told him no but that it would be my dream job. I had no experience and unbridled enthusiasm. Nardie taught me the rules handed down from many bartenders; she conveyed the necessary information to keep everything on an even keel. Carol was one to watch. She shouted out complicated recipes while beating someone at pool, mixed some mean cocktails, and then she’d turn around and 86 someone with a smile. They always apologized for making her throw them out. And Christal taught me how to tend bar. Not only how to make drinks, but how to tend to the customers, how to keep control of an unruly bar and how to do it with laughter and panache.

My first weeks, the customers knew much more about the bar and the set up than I did. They pointed out the coolers that held the Pabst Blue Ribbon, and noted that the Rolling Rock was in the back. My friend Al spent a couple of days helping me perfect my bloody mary. Chuck helped get the martinis right. Maria helped me hone the margaritas. 

14th Street 14 years ago, Decollectables was across the street, Kenny worked at the Sandwicherie, Emil at San Loco, and all the tattoo guys were at Lou’s – Emerson, Chino, Jimmy, Chris, Chris, Ami, Darren, et al. 

I don’t watch TV, so from age 25 on, I watched all the big events unfold at the Deuce. I remember the nights we watched Princess Diana die, the Oklahoma City bombings, and OJ Simpson’s slow speed chase. And 911 kept us glued to the TV for weeks. We donated our tips and all money raised at the bar one day for the fire departments in New York.

The hurricane parties were doozies. The Deuce never closed even when the howling winds started knocking down signs. People who refused to evacuate were too jumpy to stay home, so they came to the bar, with cash to burn and fear in their hearts. In 24 hours, lives could be changed, so drink, and be merry. As the winds roared and the electricity faltered, we drank and we were merry.

Sure, there were days and nights that were dull, but when the right confluence of music, people, and drinks whirled, there was no place on earth that was more magical. Anything could happen, and it did. We met the most extraordinary people, people who never said commonplace things, but burned. burned burned, like fabulous…roman candles (homage a JKerouac)

Do you remember the days when Jeanne would dance her spectacular dance to Ray Charles’ “Mint Julep” on the bar? Those early Sundays were my favorite: Cesar, Moira, Casual Robert, Natalie, Psycho Suzie, Tara, Fun Mike, Big D, Maria, Crispy, Kirk, Jeffery House, Shenoa, Mary Ann, Maid Marion, Johnno, Hash Ash, Al, Tony, Tommy, Kim, and Ash, Jeannie and Doug, and Lady E, oh what fun we had. And later Cool, Dark, and Anonymous Sundays with Matt, Pauline, Arnie, Kristina, Alex, Les, Sigi, Prince, Big Pat, and Cory. If I named everyone the list would go on and on and on and on and still I’d miss important people in my life. Our lives collided, intersected, weaved, and danced in and around 14th street.

There was a night Christal, Kat, Cesar, Maria and I stumbled from the beach where we watched a total eclipse of the moon, and we saw limos lined up in the alley. It was the apres premier party for Curdled – Quentin Tarrantino, Cecil B Raul, and John Maass throwing a shindig in our bar. We were sandy from the beach, wearing shorts and flipflops and everyone else was in tuxes and gowns.

I met with the lads from the Playwright night after night after. Good company, Terry, Francy, Greg, Pauly, Russo, and way before that, Mandy, Maggie, Barry, Luciano, Fonzie, et al. See you at 5.

Jeanne hired a mariachi band to follow me around one birthday. We met them on the sand where we danced under a full moon, and paraded to the Deuce Bar. A spectacular night surrounded by the best of friends.

And the night of the Flying Iguana.

And the Karaoke Brawl.

And the thousands of interesting, enlightening conversations over gallons and gallons of Ketel One.

I’ve had the opportunity to meet so many interesting people. People from all walks of life. All of whom enjoyed drinking and we, bartenders,  were the superstars cause we gave them what they wanted with a strong pour and good will, and, mostly, good cheer.

There’s something magnetic in that space. And people either get it or they don’t. So many times, I’ve seen people come in and look around, and go out, and other times, people come through the door, stop for a minute to let their eyes adjust to the dark bar, inhale deeply and relax. They get it; they belly up to the bar. They’ve found their spot. 

The juke box – Johnno & Mark Fisher schooled me on the oldies, especially the oldies, Roger Miller, anyone?, the clacking of the pool balls, the arguing, the slurring, the laughter, the conversations became my music, became the rhythm of my deuce life.

14 years on 14th street.

Good times.