Mike K.
Yelp
~ Rose, The Premier, The Commissar and I ~
Part I - Rose, Her Lounge and I
On Yelp, one can usually trust the aggregate rating of an establishment if the rating is four stars or more or three stars or less. Unfortunately, I've found one of the exceptions.
Let's be clear. Rose herself, who graciously served us post-post-game following TOLA, is a trooper for continuing to work behind the bar and serve customers. She's five stars.
As for Rose's Lounge, there's just no way it's a four-star establishment. There's no way it's even a three-star establishment. I don't care how cheap the beer is, Premier Gogirlsky. I know a good dive bar, and Rose's isn't a good dive bar. Rose's is more like Wile E. Coyote going over the cliff than Greg Louganis. It's dingy, unkempt and has bar stools with duct tape replacing the vinyl. And then there's that dude. Yes, that dude, who sits at the far end of the bar from the entryway. Calgon, take me away. Rose's is a one and out. But God bless Rose herself. I'll throw her an extra star and rate Rose's Lounge as two stars solely because of her.
Part II - The Premier
Let's get back to The Premier. Premier Gogirlsky felt some years ago that it didn't matter if a place was smelly or had multiple shortcomings since drafts at that time were one dollar and consequentially rated Rose's four stars. And Rhinelanders served for a buck post-game on opening day in Casey Moran's bathroom that smells like death would be four stars as well, right? No, let's rate on one dubious criterion rather than on the actual spectrum of criteria. Hmm, this reminds me of our Commissar.
Part III - The Premier and The Commissar
The Premier: Comrade, how are you doing? I see you did a bang-up job on your latest assignment. I sent you over a case of wod-ka for that one. I trust you saw to it that our star challenged comrades had a safe trip to Siberia?
The Commissar: My momma always told me, if you don't have anything nice...
The Premier: Comrade, please settle down...
The Commissar: If it's free, it's five stars! And you're an ingrate if you say otherwise because I said so!
The Premier: [Smacking the Commissar] Comrade, settle down! Here, drink this wod-ka.
The Commissar: [Drinks shot of vodka] I'm sorry, Comrade. Par-tee lines. They get into my tiny little head and play on repeat. By the way, free shot of wod-ka - five stars! Is there anything I can do for you today, Comrade?
The Premier: Nyet. Nothing, Comrade. I just wanted to give you kudos for your latest work. Your Par-tee membership has been extended indefinitely. I hereby, with this medal, afford you Hero status. Splendid job, Comrade.
The Commissar: Thank you, Comrade. Would there be anything else then, Comrade?
The Premier: Yes, I'm referring you for a real haircut and basic English classes so you can keep up the subterfuge. Par-tee provides for free. Dismissed, Comrade.
The Commissar: Free! Thank you, Comrade! Five stars for Par-tee!
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Hey, if you're broke, have a bad sense of smell and taste, don't care how you look, hate bros, enjoy a seedy basement atmosphere and don't mind creepy old timers trying to pick you up, then by all means, go!