Okay, y'all need to realize that your bartenders and servers are not your friends. They most likely don't even like you. Bars are places of business, of commerce, where to participate you must ante-up. A tip might buy you a smile and a brief chat of small talk (if it's not busy), but understand, and please respect, that a bartender is held captive to her station (her station being the bar where she is not just hanging out for the fun of it) because she is AT WORK. So please just let her do her job tending the bar because you don't have anything to say a bartender hasn't already heard. You're not interesting. If you were interesting you wouldn't be sitting alone at a bar having to corner people to get them to talk to you. And also, being old and deaf and having the saddest puppy dog eyes doesn't grant anybody license to be an annoying leech.
David Icke be damned! Kris Kristofferson is an American God! Possibly the hottest slab of beautiful muscled man meat to win a Rhodes Scholarship, Kristofferson was giving head with just his voice (“To Beat the Devil”) back when Leonard Cohen was still whining monotonously! He can fly helicopters! And he’s adorably old fashioned/out dated, recently (well, a few years ago) releasing a song about Sinead O’Connor’s 1992 appearance on SNL. People! We must stop the fluoridation’s campaign to attack our National Heroes! This maligning of KrisKris cann-- Wait... What was this about?
"Surfed"? John McClane may wrestle a goddamned fighter jet out of the sky with his bare hands, but no, Mr. Henriksen, he does not "surf", thank you. These are not your Grandmother's action flicks where Neo doesn't fly when Johnny Castle simply fades into the sea, nor are they genre-besmirching travesties opening with 007's assault on North Korea via "hanging-ten". These are fucking Die Hard movies. So please, let's not have this maligning of awesomeness.
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