After years of getting away with an incredibly shady business practice, Chick-Fil-A is finally getting called out onto the carpet.
That's right, I'm talking about how those stupid cows still don't know how to spell. They've been writing for years, but their spelling and grammar is disgraceful. "Eat more chicken" is a simple phrase. Learn it properly or don't try to sell me chicken.
Seriously, this week's Chick-Fil-A fiasco has gotten me a bit riled up. It's 13 percent ridiculous that this is a news story in any way, shape or form, and 113 percent scary that politicians are trying to take measures to shut Chick-Fil-A out of their cities.
It really shouldn't be a surprise that the CEO of a company known to be Christian would be against gay marriage. This is a restaurant that forgoes millions of dollars of profit to be closed on Sundays. That's extreme even by hard-core Christian standards.
I'm sure there are lots of different polls one could point to on the subject of gay marriage, but the ones that I looked at (by NBC, ABC, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post) showed that between 53 and 54 percent of Americans support gay marriage. Well, I can guarantee that the percentage of Christians who like to make a profit 7 days a week instead of 6 is higher than that, so the gay marriage thing should have been a forgone conclusion.
I could see a controversy brewing if the dude said he didn't want to serve gays, or that there would henceforth be a separate line for them, or that they would not be hired by the restaurant. (I have heard a lot of Chick-fil-haters push that last point as if it were a fact, but they've been unable to provide one shred of evidence to support it).
All he did is express his personal belief on an issue that about half the country agrees with him on anyway. But that doesn't even matter. He could say that he firmly believes the earth is flat and get less backlash than this.
OK, so half the country lives under a rock and thought Chick-fil-A was closed on Sundays because all the employees go three sheets to the wind every Saturday night and need Sunday to sleep it off. Now you're outraged to find out they're Christians who believe in something. I get it. Fine.
Solution: Don't eat at Chick-Fil-A. Tell your friends not to eat at Chick-Fil-A. Organize a national boycott of Chick-Fil-A. This is how America is supposed to work. Their bottom line will take a hit, and if enough people don't eat there, it will go out of business. That'll show 'em.
That should be the end of the story, but it isn't. Politicians are actually trying to shut down Chick-Fil-A restaurants, and if they succeed, I shudder to think about what the future holds for our fine country. It's like going down the cookie aisle and seeing the Double-Stuf Oreos. You know you don't need them, but you think you've earned it and you'll only have a couple. Two hours after checking out at the grocery store, the whole pack is in your stomach. And you're out of milk.
I heard the dude from Chicago who is trying to lock Chick-Fil-A out say he felt he needed to take a stand because in his heart, he knew Chick-Fil-A was bigoted. That's a direct quote, not a paraphrase. He also said the people of Chicago don't agree with his views, so that's another reason to shut them down.
Since when is a politician's gut feeling enough "evidence" to shut down a restaurant? (Even if it was "from the heart," which is far more conclusive than just a random gut feeling...) The dude in Massachusetts shutting Chick-Fil-A out of Boston had the same rock-solid evidence of discrimination, by which he meant absolutely no evidence whatsoever.
Although nothing should surprise me when it comes to my uber-liberal friends, I have to admit to being a little taken aback by their desire to see Chick-Fil-A shut down. I thought that was the kind of thing they accuse the conservatives of doing to people that disagree with them. In one thrilling Facebook debate (in which he was utterly destroyed), one buddy said that despite any actual evidence of discrimination, the fact that the company and its CEO give money to Christian organizations supporting traditional marriage justifies any and all legal measures to shut them down. He also equated Chick-Fil-A to the KKK trying to open up shop in Oklahoma City. (Who wants some Ku Klux Khicken? Just like the customers, the meat's all white!!!)
It takes zero creativity whatsoever to come up with a scenario in which all of the people who want to shut down Chick-Fil-A would be proven to be absolute hypocrites. You don't even have to change the subject, you just have to change the location.
I'm confident in saying that the majority of the people in the state of Mississippi are against gay marriage, and gay marriage is not legal there. Using the exact same logic, anyone that supported gay marriage and/or donated any money to that cause could have their private, for-profit business that is absolutely unrelated to gay or straight marriage shut down. You think these Birkenstock-wearers would like that? It appears the sandal is on the other foot now...
Can we please just go back to being Americans and let capitalism and freedom of speech work like they are supposed to? Let the CEO of Chick-Fil-A have an opinion, and if that opinion offends you, then don't eat his chicken sandwiches. He will make less money. Because this is America and we are a free country, you can even express your displeasure over his opinion and try to get other people to not eat his chicken sandwiches. But you don't get to stop the production of chicken sandwiches over a difference of opinion.
(Steps off soapbox).
I'd really prefer to go back to not caring about politics, and to go back to writing blogs about poker, sports and bad restaurant experiences now.
I'll close with a unifying statement that all sides can agree on. That polynesian sauce is freaking amazing. And those cows need to learn some gramer. I mean grammar.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Papa John
I got a text from my friend Spike in Lawton the other day that literally had me laughing out loud for several minutes.
He said he was playing poker at the casino there in L-Town and saw a guy we affectionately call Papa John. He knew I would be interested in this discovery and decided to sneak a picture with his cell phone. Unfortunately, he forgot to turn his flash off so the guy knew that Spike had taken a picture of him. They sat across each other for a couple more hours playing cards, all the while Papa J knew Spike had taken this picture. According to my source at the table (Spike), it was very awkward for at least one of them (Spike). The best part is that the picture ended up a great portrait of Spike's thumb.
Flash back to about 2006, when Spike and I were both dashing young bachelors without a care in the world. Poker was pretty new to us, and we had nothing but time. We played a lot of poker.
I was working on the sports desk at the Lawton Constitution back then. My hours were 4 p.m. to midnight. Since the newspaper was conveniently located about one mile from the casino, I often went after work. Spike would do landscaping work all day, sleep for a little while, and usually end up at the casino at about the same time I did.
There was another fellow who would show up at the same time as us. He was at roughly the same age and poker skill level that we were. He was a Papa John's delivery driver, and he would come to the casino as soon as he was done with his shift. He always wore the Papa John's polo shirt and hat, but he rarely ever said a word.
He pretty much kept to himself and usually won, and that was all I knew about him. Well, I also knew that he drove a brand new white PT Cruiser, which looked pretty funny with the Papa John's car-topper on it. It also seemed funny that a young kid with a heavy country accent would be driving a brand new white PT Cruiser.
After a couple of months, he started occasionally jumping into the sports conversations that frequently begin at the poker table. He was a smart dude who read the sports page. Sometimes he would reference something in one of my columns and then add his two cents, either agreeing or disagreeing in a very well-thought and to-the-point manner. The way in which he would jump into a conversation from out of nowhere and make a very forceful opinion usually ended the discussion. Then we'd all go back to playing cards and wonder why the Papa John's guy thought he got be God and make the deciding point in every argument.
After entering a few sports discussions, Papa John started doing the same thing when there was an interesting poker hand that merited discussion at the table. People would be going back and forth and he would just fly in from left field and say, "The flush hit and John bet $150 after calling the flop and the turn. He's not going to bet into five people without the flush so it was a terrible call by Mark."
Then he would just go back to saying nothing.
With this kind of guy, it's easy to see how one could overlook a key detail -- his name. I had played with him for almost a year and had no freaking clue what his name was.
Over that time, Papa John seemed to take a liking to Spike and I. He tended to agree with most of what what we said about sports and poker, but we still never talked about anything personal. I definitely respected his knowledge and poker skill and just assumed he was a home-schooled introvert without a lot of social skills. I had nothing against him.
As Papa John starting feeling comfortable popping into conversations between Spike and myself, it became increasingly awkward that neither of us knew what his name was. Keep in mind that this was a small poker room without an electronic waiting list like most rooms have. You just gave your name to someone at the front desk and they let you know when your seat was open.
For a couple of weeks we had been trying to figure out what his name was without asking him, since he was obviously quite familiar with our names and we had known him for too long to just ask him what his name was. Unfortunately, since he didn't talk to anyone else and only rarely spoke to us, this seemed to be an impossible task. I remember us putting a $20 bounty on finding out his name. We couldn't do it.
Back then, the Lawton poker room closed at 2 a.m. (maybe it was 3 a.m., I don't remember for sure). Like I said, Spike and I would usually get there about midnight, and sometimes two hours of poker wasn't enough. We would occasionally drive to Norman to play at Riverwind until dawn.
One night just after the Lawton poker room had closed, Spike and I were standing off to the side and decided to make a run to Riverwind. Out of nowhere Papa John's sidles up and says, "I'd like to go with you."
Since this guy didn't seem like a serial killer and it also didn't seem like a good time to say, "What's your name, Bro?" we just piled into my Honda and took an awkward trip up the turnpike.
Since Riverwind had the electronic waiting lists, our plan was to let Papa John walk up to the counter first. Then he would give his name and we would either hear it or see it up on the board. That plan was thwarted when Papa John looked up at the board and said, "Open seating for the $2-5 no limit game? I'll take it." Spike and I rolled our eyes at each other.
We played til dawn and then went to IHOP for some breakfast. By this time Spike and I have exchanged 25 texts trying to guess his name or come up with any clue whatsoever.
We get done eating and as we get up, Papa John's says he's gonna go take a leak, and we tell him to meet us at the car.
As we're walking to the car, I say to Spike, "So we still have no idea what this guy's name is?" Spike laughs and says, "No clue. It would be a lot easier if he just wore the Papa John's name tag."
That's when we notice that Papa John is standing right there.
Either this guy took the fastest leak in the history of the world or he was afraid that we were going to leave him. Regardless, there's a 100 percent chance he heard Spike's comment.
I changed the subject real fast but the damage was done. The worst part is that this dude STILL didn't tell us what his name was. I felt horrible so I started asking him personal questions all the way home, to try to get to know him better. This resulted in him complaining about his wife for an hour and not telling us his name.
After that incident, Papa John starting coming around less and less. He was much more temperamental, berating opponents who beat him in a hand and sometimes playing terrible poker and losing significant amounts of money. Judging from the car talk and some random grumblings under his breath, I think he was having marital problems. Anyway, he pretty much quit coming.
Yes, at some point before he disappeared we figured out what his name was, but he'll always be Papa John to me.
Two things cracked me up about Spike's failed picture attempt the other day. First, it's obviously funny that the same guy who got busted making a rude joke about not knowing Papa John's name also got busted trying to snap a cell phone picture at a poker table. Awkward silence, Part 2.
But what's also funny is what would have been in that picture had Spike not instead taken a picture of his own thumb.
Six years after the original incident, Papa John is still in the pizza business. But he's not working for the Big Daddy anymore! Spike reports that Papa is now wearing the polo shirt and hat of Marco's Pizza these days. I guess he was a free agent and Marco's swooped in with the highest offer. There's no loyalty with these guys anymore, they just take the money every time.
He said he was playing poker at the casino there in L-Town and saw a guy we affectionately call Papa John. He knew I would be interested in this discovery and decided to sneak a picture with his cell phone. Unfortunately, he forgot to turn his flash off so the guy knew that Spike had taken a picture of him. They sat across each other for a couple more hours playing cards, all the while Papa J knew Spike had taken this picture. According to my source at the table (Spike), it was very awkward for at least one of them (Spike). The best part is that the picture ended up a great portrait of Spike's thumb.
Flash back to about 2006, when Spike and I were both dashing young bachelors without a care in the world. Poker was pretty new to us, and we had nothing but time. We played a lot of poker.
I was working on the sports desk at the Lawton Constitution back then. My hours were 4 p.m. to midnight. Since the newspaper was conveniently located about one mile from the casino, I often went after work. Spike would do landscaping work all day, sleep for a little while, and usually end up at the casino at about the same time I did.
There was another fellow who would show up at the same time as us. He was at roughly the same age and poker skill level that we were. He was a Papa John's delivery driver, and he would come to the casino as soon as he was done with his shift. He always wore the Papa John's polo shirt and hat, but he rarely ever said a word.
He pretty much kept to himself and usually won, and that was all I knew about him. Well, I also knew that he drove a brand new white PT Cruiser, which looked pretty funny with the Papa John's car-topper on it. It also seemed funny that a young kid with a heavy country accent would be driving a brand new white PT Cruiser.
After a couple of months, he started occasionally jumping into the sports conversations that frequently begin at the poker table. He was a smart dude who read the sports page. Sometimes he would reference something in one of my columns and then add his two cents, either agreeing or disagreeing in a very well-thought and to-the-point manner. The way in which he would jump into a conversation from out of nowhere and make a very forceful opinion usually ended the discussion. Then we'd all go back to playing cards and wonder why the Papa John's guy thought he got be God and make the deciding point in every argument.
After entering a few sports discussions, Papa John started doing the same thing when there was an interesting poker hand that merited discussion at the table. People would be going back and forth and he would just fly in from left field and say, "The flush hit and John bet $150 after calling the flop and the turn. He's not going to bet into five people without the flush so it was a terrible call by Mark."
Then he would just go back to saying nothing.
With this kind of guy, it's easy to see how one could overlook a key detail -- his name. I had played with him for almost a year and had no freaking clue what his name was.
Over that time, Papa John seemed to take a liking to Spike and I. He tended to agree with most of what what we said about sports and poker, but we still never talked about anything personal. I definitely respected his knowledge and poker skill and just assumed he was a home-schooled introvert without a lot of social skills. I had nothing against him.
As Papa John starting feeling comfortable popping into conversations between Spike and myself, it became increasingly awkward that neither of us knew what his name was. Keep in mind that this was a small poker room without an electronic waiting list like most rooms have. You just gave your name to someone at the front desk and they let you know when your seat was open.
For a couple of weeks we had been trying to figure out what his name was without asking him, since he was obviously quite familiar with our names and we had known him for too long to just ask him what his name was. Unfortunately, since he didn't talk to anyone else and only rarely spoke to us, this seemed to be an impossible task. I remember us putting a $20 bounty on finding out his name. We couldn't do it.
Back then, the Lawton poker room closed at 2 a.m. (maybe it was 3 a.m., I don't remember for sure). Like I said, Spike and I would usually get there about midnight, and sometimes two hours of poker wasn't enough. We would occasionally drive to Norman to play at Riverwind until dawn.
One night just after the Lawton poker room had closed, Spike and I were standing off to the side and decided to make a run to Riverwind. Out of nowhere Papa John's sidles up and says, "I'd like to go with you."
Since this guy didn't seem like a serial killer and it also didn't seem like a good time to say, "What's your name, Bro?" we just piled into my Honda and took an awkward trip up the turnpike.
Since Riverwind had the electronic waiting lists, our plan was to let Papa John walk up to the counter first. Then he would give his name and we would either hear it or see it up on the board. That plan was thwarted when Papa John looked up at the board and said, "Open seating for the $2-5 no limit game? I'll take it." Spike and I rolled our eyes at each other.
We played til dawn and then went to IHOP for some breakfast. By this time Spike and I have exchanged 25 texts trying to guess his name or come up with any clue whatsoever.
We get done eating and as we get up, Papa John's says he's gonna go take a leak, and we tell him to meet us at the car.
As we're walking to the car, I say to Spike, "So we still have no idea what this guy's name is?" Spike laughs and says, "No clue. It would be a lot easier if he just wore the Papa John's name tag."
That's when we notice that Papa John is standing right there.
Either this guy took the fastest leak in the history of the world or he was afraid that we were going to leave him. Regardless, there's a 100 percent chance he heard Spike's comment.
I changed the subject real fast but the damage was done. The worst part is that this dude STILL didn't tell us what his name was. I felt horrible so I started asking him personal questions all the way home, to try to get to know him better. This resulted in him complaining about his wife for an hour and not telling us his name.
After that incident, Papa John starting coming around less and less. He was much more temperamental, berating opponents who beat him in a hand and sometimes playing terrible poker and losing significant amounts of money. Judging from the car talk and some random grumblings under his breath, I think he was having marital problems. Anyway, he pretty much quit coming.
Yes, at some point before he disappeared we figured out what his name was, but he'll always be Papa John to me.
Two things cracked me up about Spike's failed picture attempt the other day. First, it's obviously funny that the same guy who got busted making a rude joke about not knowing Papa John's name also got busted trying to snap a cell phone picture at a poker table. Awkward silence, Part 2.
But what's also funny is what would have been in that picture had Spike not instead taken a picture of his own thumb.
Six years after the original incident, Papa John is still in the pizza business. But he's not working for the Big Daddy anymore! Spike reports that Papa is now wearing the polo shirt and hat of Marco's Pizza these days. I guess he was a free agent and Marco's swooped in with the highest offer. There's no loyalty with these guys anymore, they just take the money every time.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Vegas 2012
Last year about this time, I got to write a pleasant blog about our family's month-long trip to Vegas, the highlight of which was a $35,000 second-place showing in a 900-person field in a poker tournament at the Venetian.
Last year was the second straight year I loaded up Missy and Addie and we made the 17-hour drive. Both times we rented a house away from the strip and really enjoyed the adventure of it all. Two years ago, I didn't win $35k but it was one of the better months of the year for me at the tables.
This year, Missy re-started her career as a nurse, getting a job at OU Medical. With her new obligations we weren't able to do the month-long family trip, but thanks to a wasted two hours of my life, I did get a free room for three days this year.
Last year we decided to hear a two-hour sales pitch for a timeshare deal. They tried to say it wasn't a timeshare (it's so much MORE than a timeshare! And BETTER!!). It was a timeshare.
We were offered a $100 gift certificate to a fancy restaurant on the strip, as well as two tickets to a show and two free nights at a hotel in Vegas. The only catch was that the hotel room was only to be used in the year 2012.
If at any point during the two hour sales pitch, if they determined that we were not seriously interested in the timeshare, they could kick us out and we would not get our gifts. In fact, the couple at the table next to us admitted they didn't have the money for a timeshare and got kicked out.
They started out offering us a $40,000 timeshare package. It was hard for me to sit there and act as if I actually had $40k of disposable income burning a hole in my pocket, but I did it. I said I simply chose not to spend my 40k on THAT.
Then they went down to the $25,000 package. I just couldn't quite squeeze the trigger on that one either.
Then they did the $15k package and finally a $5k package. I stood my ground. The lady said, "What? Are you not going to go on vacations at all???"
Finally I pointed out that we had signed a contract saying we would listen to the pitch for two hours, and that two hours was up. I wanted our free crap.
The lady tried to act like she was going to get fired if we didn't buy anything and mentioned her two small children. Tough beans, honey.
Then they thought they could get us to buy a week in Hawaii for $1000 or something like that. Missy was starting to break, but I stood firm. Gifts, please.
Of course, Missy's best friend flew into town the next day and they used the restaurant voucher on a fancy meal. I got pictures of the food sent to my cell phone.
Since she got the meal, I claimed the free room for a poker trip with my buddy James. I decided to play another Venetian tournament, assuming they would hand me another $35k.
That's not how it worked out. James, of all people, busted me out of the Venetian tournament, and I lost a little more at the cash games. Oh well. Who among us hasn't dropped a couple thousand in Vegas in a weekend?
The free room we got provided an interesting experience. It was at the Polo Towers, which has a nice pool on the roof that I took advantage of. And the room itself was nice -- with the exception of one quirk.
The first time I tried to take a shower, the water was scalding hot. I turned it all the way to cold, and it was still scalding hot. Figuring I had turned the knob the wrong way, I put it on hot, and it was still scalding hot. Finally I put it right in the middle. Still scalding hot.
After about 10 minutes of just standing in the back of the shower, it finally cooled off enough to get the job done. But that wasn't the end of the hot water business. When I brushed my teeth, the water was scalding hot, and when I tried to get a drink of cold water from the sink in our kitchen, it was scalding hot. Luckily the drinking water wasn't the first thing I tried in the place, else I probably would have burned my throat. I just didn't drink the water.
James had the most humorous water issue, however. He said the water burned his toosh during a courtesy flush. I thought that would be the most hilarious lawsuit ever, and it's a guaranteed winner. How are you going to rule against a guy doing a courtesy flush?? Answer: You're not. Give him the money.
Last year was the second straight year I loaded up Missy and Addie and we made the 17-hour drive. Both times we rented a house away from the strip and really enjoyed the adventure of it all. Two years ago, I didn't win $35k but it was one of the better months of the year for me at the tables.
This year, Missy re-started her career as a nurse, getting a job at OU Medical. With her new obligations we weren't able to do the month-long family trip, but thanks to a wasted two hours of my life, I did get a free room for three days this year.
Last year we decided to hear a two-hour sales pitch for a timeshare deal. They tried to say it wasn't a timeshare (it's so much MORE than a timeshare! And BETTER!!). It was a timeshare.
We were offered a $100 gift certificate to a fancy restaurant on the strip, as well as two tickets to a show and two free nights at a hotel in Vegas. The only catch was that the hotel room was only to be used in the year 2012.
If at any point during the two hour sales pitch, if they determined that we were not seriously interested in the timeshare, they could kick us out and we would not get our gifts. In fact, the couple at the table next to us admitted they didn't have the money for a timeshare and got kicked out.
They started out offering us a $40,000 timeshare package. It was hard for me to sit there and act as if I actually had $40k of disposable income burning a hole in my pocket, but I did it. I said I simply chose not to spend my 40k on THAT.
Then they went down to the $25,000 package. I just couldn't quite squeeze the trigger on that one either.
Then they did the $15k package and finally a $5k package. I stood my ground. The lady said, "What? Are you not going to go on vacations at all???"
Finally I pointed out that we had signed a contract saying we would listen to the pitch for two hours, and that two hours was up. I wanted our free crap.
The lady tried to act like she was going to get fired if we didn't buy anything and mentioned her two small children. Tough beans, honey.
Then they thought they could get us to buy a week in Hawaii for $1000 or something like that. Missy was starting to break, but I stood firm. Gifts, please.
Of course, Missy's best friend flew into town the next day and they used the restaurant voucher on a fancy meal. I got pictures of the food sent to my cell phone.
Since she got the meal, I claimed the free room for a poker trip with my buddy James. I decided to play another Venetian tournament, assuming they would hand me another $35k.
That's not how it worked out. James, of all people, busted me out of the Venetian tournament, and I lost a little more at the cash games. Oh well. Who among us hasn't dropped a couple thousand in Vegas in a weekend?
The free room we got provided an interesting experience. It was at the Polo Towers, which has a nice pool on the roof that I took advantage of. And the room itself was nice -- with the exception of one quirk.
The first time I tried to take a shower, the water was scalding hot. I turned it all the way to cold, and it was still scalding hot. Figuring I had turned the knob the wrong way, I put it on hot, and it was still scalding hot. Finally I put it right in the middle. Still scalding hot.
After about 10 minutes of just standing in the back of the shower, it finally cooled off enough to get the job done. But that wasn't the end of the hot water business. When I brushed my teeth, the water was scalding hot, and when I tried to get a drink of cold water from the sink in our kitchen, it was scalding hot. Luckily the drinking water wasn't the first thing I tried in the place, else I probably would have burned my throat. I just didn't drink the water.
James had the most humorous water issue, however. He said the water burned his toosh during a courtesy flush. I thought that would be the most hilarious lawsuit ever, and it's a guaranteed winner. How are you going to rule against a guy doing a courtesy flush?? Answer: You're not. Give him the money.
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