Every part of life has an ebb and a flow.

A bar is no different. A good bar has a life. It is like the flame that confounded scientists for so many years. Meaning that it has all the same characteristics of the definition of life… but we know it is not alive.

My bar lives. And does not.

I am not trying to get all philosophical on your ass, I am just trying to state what is. I am trying to put it in context.

In the last week, the bar showed me what was what. My staff has been cut to a lean, not so mean, ‘fill in the blank’ machine.

My menu has hit puberty and is starting to blossom. It had a good parent, it had a good start, and now it will be better, for no other reason than to hold its own and no longer suck on the proverbial teet of being new.

Like life, mistakes were made. Many, many mistakes were made. I shouldn’t have invested in the Sparks. So be it.

Oh, and I read reviews. I try to stay away from Yelp or CitySearch but they keep getting put before me.

Amateurs. You need a voice and I respect that.

But you professionals, your the ones that are supposed to be a voice of truth. You are honed in your craft to drop the jargon and the fifty cent words. You who can craft a tale of adventure for the mind and/or the palette should know better.

Complain about the temperature of my burger all you want. Argue the finer points of presentation, price and tomfoolery all you can.

But please, I beg of you, do not complain about a burger that is called a, and I will quote, “Spicy Buffalo Burger,” as being too spicy.

It has spicy in the name of the confounded burger.

Do not be a hack. Use your fifty cent words and your power of printed publication to write a legitimate review. If you don’t like it, fine. Taste is taste. But don’t get pissed at a pot being black, saying it is black, doing everything it can to be black yet you being unhappy that it is lacking any color after you buy it.

Oof. I just spent more time addressing a review than it probably took to write the damn thing. I am also pretty sure I put more thought into it, though who can say? We are both trying to make a name for ourselves. Either way, I suddenly feel both a little dirty and somewhat bureaucratic. I am the Blagojevich of blogs… unless Blagojevich has his own blog. Then I am a backseat to Blagojevich’s blog.

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