Bill M.'s Profile

"You are nothing but an arrogant prick! Every single damn review you wrote dogs on the restaurants. If that makes you feel better about being a shallow little faggot then more power to you. Next time, instead of talking shit about people, wipe the sand out of your pussy and stop being a bitch. Nobody wants your stupid ass in their restaurant anyway. Come back to mine so I can punch you in your bitch as face, ho."

I haven't really been on Yelp in over a year and a half but I feel the need to re-post this private message that someone involved with this place sent me today.  The text itself is so thoughtful and issue provoking that it truly begs to become public record.  My personal favorite parts are where I'm called a faggot then threatened with extreme violence.

Godspeed "Dr. K!"  Best of luck in the future!  Hopefully you have a child some day that turns out to be a homosexual communist that prefers jazz.

Every goddamn time I see the burrito I ordered and think to myself "Oh shit there's no way I'm going to finish all of this!  This is huge!"

Then twenty minutes later I'm thinking "Goddamnit, how did I eat all of that?!"  

Great burritos, strong margaritas, always entertaining telenovelas on the TVs and friendly staff.

Side note - my spell check suggested "Televangelism" as a substitute for "Telenovelas."  Firefox is totally a tool of zombie Ronald Reagan.

People:  A touring band of three people, one roadie plus two girlfriends (they were from Milwaukee and this was the first show of the tour) and myself.

Money: $35.  

Booze of choice:  St. Ides tall cans and some unknown whiskey that's "government sanctioned."

Result:  Great show for the band, even better hang out times afterward, blank spots filled in the next morning.

For the better part of the last year I had said that if Chicago got the 2016 Olympic games I would move to Milwaukee, WI.  As someone who has never lived outside the Chicago city limits, Milwaukee is the ideal candidate for a city to seduce me.  I have a handful of friends living there that are connected to several different scenes, it's a city that's big enough for touring bands to not skip for the most part, they have a pretty great local music scene, I already sort of know my way around town and if you know what you're doing rents are cheap.  I was more than willing to take a four or five year sabbatical to the land of "Cows and Beer" as Die Kreuzen put it.  

Unfortunately (and this will be the only time you'll ever hear/see me say this) Chicago didn't get the 2016 games so Milwaukee will be strictly limited to visits.  The existence of Comet kind of made me wish otherwise.  

Last weekend a friend and I drove up to Milwaukee for a party and due to circumstances we had to leave straight in the middle of rush hour.  Neither of us had eaten since lunch so needless to say the stomachs were rumbling by the time we got to town.  Parking around Comet was extremely scarce but our friend insisted that we should keep trying to find a space.  She said it was her favorite place so we kept it up (that's what she said?) until finding a space a few blocks down.

Good thing she insisted because ten minutes later my driving buddy and I were inside, making our way to our counter seat.  As I was taking off my Dee Dee Ramone leather jacket, "Blitzkrieg Bop" was playing over the speakers.  Perfect.  Though the music was hard to hear since we were seated by the kitchen I'm positive I heard Clash, Misfits, Joy Division and Lifetime songs over the speakers amongst others that I just couldn't quite place.

Once we got a look at the menu there were so many good beers listed and such tempting food.  I opted for water and a Tomato Soup/3-Variety-Grilled-Cheese-Sandwich, while he got a tuna sandwich and some fancy beer and our host was boring, only getting an order of french fries for herself.  

Though the wait was longer than I would have liked (and our host said it was the longest she'd ever waited) it was completely worth it for my food.  I love grilled cheese sandwiches but the thing about making them is that they take about a minute to eat but a much longer time to prepare.  Not this variety though because this grilled cheese sandwich was suuuuuuuubstantial, with three different cheeses inside.  That alone would have been a meal but hey, let's not forget about that glorious tomato soup.  It had a slightly orange tint to it, why I don't know but won't question because it was delicious.  The damn thing came with fries too!  I ate maybe 1/4 of those before giving up and handing them over to the host to take home for hangover food to eat the next day.

Soup and sandwich was $7.75 menu price.  Considering what I pay for shitty Thai food a few blocks away from me that's a great bargain.  The only thing keeping it from five stars is the wait (it took about an hour from the time the three of us sat down to when we left) and the fact that I'm spiteful that it's not walking distance from me.

"Hi, can I help you?"
"Yeah.  What type of decaf would you think a 78 year old woman would like most?"
Technical coffee jargon, focusing on "mild"
"That sounds great.  Do you have any specific denominations of gift cards or is it just pick your own?"
"How much would you want?"
"Twenty five sounds good, plus the decaf."
"Your total is X dollars.  Do you want a small coffee to go?  You look like it's windy out."
"No thanks, I'm not a coffee guy."
"Then get out"
Smile.

I guess I'd never actually been in on a weekend before because my last two trips have been pretty horrific and from what I'm told, it's pretty normal lately.

Cover bands.  Fucking cover bands everywhere, please quit.  Thanksgiving weekend I stopped in with a couple of friends and we were bombarded by an ear splitting band of 30something gents covering all the alterna-rock hits of the mid mid to late 1990s; Eagle Eye Cherry and Lit particularly stand out.  I'm at a loss for words because I really don't get it.  

Last weekend I was at my parents' house again for the Christmas weekend and since the place some of us were going to go ended up being closed, we reluctantly came into Quigley's again.  

Now if you're anything like me, you'll enjoy Christmas music for the first week, maybe week and a half before it starts boring holes in your head.  December 26 celebrates the annual end of Christmas music season everywhere in the world but Quigley's.  The worst part is that it wasn't even just the radio or a jukebox.  Oh no, they had a band of three middle aged men that committed music sins that include but are not limited to: being in a cover band, wearing wacky hats, using a drum machine with only three pre-programmed beats, running acoustic guitars through distortion and effects pedals, trying to be the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and more.  Once again, I don't get it.  

A buddy that still goes to trivia semi-regularly says it's still pretty easy to win so that's cool and even though I haven't been in a year and a half I won't demote only to one star.  That said I will avoid on the weekends at all costs.

This is an extraordinary branch.  I have never once wanted to blow my brains out while dealing with any of the tellers, they always have every deposit slip ready when needed and the regular security guy is a friendly and courteous person instead of a frustrated ex-jock attempting to intimidate people.

Closed now.  Becoming a Bacci's.  

Fuck you America.

So AJs has become CJs.  I wonder if they really thought changing one letter (the more commonly used one even!) in the name would fool anyone.  I sincerely hope not but then again the kids that are at Loyola now probably can't remember two years back anyway so I bet they have gotten away with it

A couple weeks ago after a raucous night of catching up with all the old neighborhood friends, I was teetering on the edge of "too drunk to take the red line home," which actually can happen believe or not.  I'm not proud of myself for what I did next, but I made a stop in CJ's to sober up.

The fact that I didn't get violently ill from the food, like my final visit there under the old AJ's moniker, is the nicest thing I will say.

First off why in the hell is there no picture of the sign?  The images of pigs diving headfirst into the meat grinder is a goddamn institution, and for those not lucky enough to go past in the daytime and see it proper, IT LIGHTS UP, SHOWING THE JOURNEY OF THE PIG FROM A LIVING ANIMAL TO GROUND UP MEAT IN AN EDIBLE, ENCASED TUBE!  USA!  USA!  USA!  USA!

I've never actually stepped foot inside the place but various aunts have been shopping here since, I'd say, nineteen dickety two or so.  They're always very proud to point that whatever meat product we're eating came from Rosarios.  Always.  So I do have firsthand experience.  Ha!