Happy New Year

To all.

Although, this month has been slightly bittersweet. Since finding out one dayin October the only bar I like to goto was closing I have spent at least 50% of my days with Louise, Dermit, Chris, Alan, Kate, and the rest of the bartenders celebrating the end of something that seemed timeless: The Blind Tiger.


"El Tigre" as it was known to our crew, was the first New York bar I would call "my bar." It was the place I discovered how good beer really is, and how great people can really be.

Hopefully the Tiger will open up somewhere around the corner, but I'm not that optimistic. Between the Liquor Store, Joe's Pizza, the Wetlands, and now the Tiger, it's just a slow spiral into genericism in the West Village and parts farther south.

Forget Ralph Lauren because I smell a Marc Jacobs. How fucking gay is that?

I'll leave you with the great joke one of the bartenders told during our last throws. Albeit, slightly racist, but it's more hilarious than anything else:

What did the black kid get on his SAT?






Barbecue Sauce.

Cheers.