Daniel "Looking forward to the end of March" T.'s Profile

California is weird. This is not the first time I have said this and it certainly won't be the last.

"You're that hot guy I met at Gilly's a few months ago! Alex, right?"

You mean this bar we are in right now? Yes, you are partially correct. I am the hot guy you met at Gilly's, but you did not meet me a few months ago, and my name is not Alex.

Having come to San Diego for work at the last moment, I was unfortunately missing Chicago Yelp Karaoke Club. I had very much been looking forward to it, and I was not going to let this Saturday pass without singing. In my previous trip to San Diego, I had made a rather disappointing visit to the rather lackluster karaoke scene at the Lamplighter, so this time I was interested in kicking it up a notch, and turned to SD Yelp for recommendations on better karaoke venues.

Top of the list was Gilly's. From everything I read, it seemed like my kind of place. Karaoke, spunky hostess, weirdo clientele, and cheap stiff drinks. I counted down the minutes to my arrival.

The interesting thing about going weird places is that they are never weird in the way one would expect. Not even close.

First of all, Gilly's seemed to be home to some of the hottest fat people I have ever met. I don't say that in a mean-spirited way, in fact, quite the opposite. When these people opened their mouths, liquid gold came out, and it was really quite alluring. This is in part why I find karaoke to be so much fun. Just discovering what neat things people can do with their voices I find endlessly entertaining.

They certainly had set the bar, so I needed to pick a song with which I could meet their standard. I ordered a drink and picked up the book, which I found only went from midway through the letter B to the letter V. I guess 21 out of 26 isn't so bad. I crossed the Beatles and XTC off my mental setlist.

As good as the singers were so far, the audience was surprisingly apathetic. Some of them were downright unfriendly in their comments. A little later two dudes made overtones to picking a fistfight over whose singing was better. This audience was sure drinking a lot harder than I am generally comfortable with. I decided I was just standing next to the wrong people and moved over next to the Gorton's fisherman and the fellow in the sombrero, and got a much more pleasant vibe. It is weird to me that any apathy would exist since everyone is really there for the karaoke.

Having finally settled on my song choice, I made my way over to the hostess and was met with the "what do YOU want" glare. I said hello, meekly handed her my slip, said thanks, and made a hasty retreat after realizing that she wasn't going to speak to me.

It may easily have just been an off night, but she didn't seem to enjoy her job much, or like any of the songs that she was playing, or the people singing them for that matter. Gilly's undoubtedly has a good thing going, but it was my feeling that with a little more of a positive welcoming attitude, they could really take their karaoke scene to the next level. Like people out the door kind of next level.

The song selection is actually quite staggeringly awesome. The list has a decidedly 90s bent to it, which I like since those were probably my most musically formative years. She runs all the tracks off the computer, which is a great way to go for karaoke. The problem with doing it this way is a lot of the tracks vary greatly in level, so without a typical DJ mixer, adjusting track volume can be kind of a pain. There are a few ways that the tracks could be normalized to reduce these variances so some of the songs don't end up so quiet.

But the mic volume was always good, and she was actually very scrupulous about wiping the mics down with alcohol swabs after every song, which marks the first time I've seen anyone anywhere do this who was not an audio professional.

I think Gilly's has a lot of potential, and I'll definitely be back in future visits to San Diego to hopefully watch it grow. I have a feeling that if I were more of a regular, this scene would grow on me, even as it is.

"You have great teeth!"

This is the first time in my life anyone has ever told me this. Only in California. I can't envision anyone I know in the Midwest saying anything remotely like this ever.

"Seriously! I want your teeth. I don't remember you having such great teeth."

Thank you. That's sweet, though you don't remember me at all.

That doesn't stop her from chomping her teeth together making bitey faces at me while humping my leg to Blind Melon. It's not that I'm not flattered, but since I refuse to engage in these activities with strangers, I generally just play possum and freeze.

I've said it before, and I will undoubtedly say it again.

And Alex, wherever you are, I have good news and bad news: There is an absolutely adorable girl who thinks you are hot, but your teeth are not as great as mine apparently. Sorry, dude.

Ok, I admit it. I am unashamed. I am a nerd.

I've read Lord of the Rings about 30 times.
Instead of watching sports, I watch nothing.
I played Dungeons & Dragons until I was 25 years old.
I still have all my comic books, GI Joes, Transformers, and not 1, but TWO Atari 2600s.
My grade school stopped having spelling bees because I won them all the time.
I never drank alcohol until I was 29. (Shortly thereafter I became a Yelper. Coincidence?)
In 4th grade I did things like jump off the garage roof explaining it was "ninja practice".
I'm not sure which end of a cigarette you're supposed to light.
When other kids were practicing their baseball swing, I was pirating video game software with my mighty knowledge of DOS.

But there is one thing above all others that I am madly nerdy about and that is MUSIC!

Presenting:

The Daniel T. EXTREME MUSIC NERD DATE!

I mean it... This date is not for the faint-hearted "yeah, I guess music is ok" sort of person. This is not soda pop commercial kind of extreme we are talking about here. If you're like that one person that everybody knew in college that only had only 10 CDs on the shelf and the pinnacle of their collection was their Boston disc, you may want to choose a kinder, gentler, less nerdy date. Not that there is anything wrong with Boston, but why is it every collection in the world, no matter how lame, always seems to contain that one Boston record? It must be a Columbia House thing.

Did I scare you? Good. Don't say I didn't warn you. Once I start talking about music, I don't stop, so strap yourself in for a long night.

RECORD SHOPPING AT RECKLESS
We'll get to know each other by browsing through the stacks of CDs and vinyl at Reckless Records. The good one, not those holes in the walls. You can learn a lot about a person by what music they like. I will also likely speak at length about why mp3s are crap. If you're very good, or even if you're not, since you have contributed to my worthy cause, you can pick out a moderately priced recording that your new friend in music will buy for you to keep.

BEGINNER'S GUITAR LESSON
Now that we've gotten the initial awkwardness out of the way, we have paved the way for a whole new set of awkwardnesses as I teach you how to play the guitar! You can bring your own mighty axe, or I can loan you one if need be. My house, your house, the library, we'll pick a location as needed to fulfill your need for privacy (or embarrassment) as your temperament dictates. Whether you've never tried to play before, or already have some guitar skills, we'll work with what you've got so far. Who knows? Maybe you can teach me something. Beginner skills taught would be tuning, identifying frets, open chords, and strumming patterns. As long as you want, we'll keep learning, because I guarantee your fingers will get tired long before my mouth does. If you let me know ahead of time, I can learn a simple favorite song of yours to teach it to you.

DINNER + LIVE BAND KARAOKE
All that picking will undoubtedly have made you hungry. We'll head to Piece Pizza to get dinner and talk about music some more. I'll be buying you hippie pizza, and enough drinks to get you ready to sing. If you're totally sick of me by now, you can frantically text a few friends to join us if they pay for their own. You'll need your posse cheering you on once you hit the stage to give you the edge you need to perform your best, though no one will cheer for you louder than I will. If you need additional encouragement, I will sing first and show you how it's done, complete with choreography. If you are still a little nervous, we can sing "Love Shack" together. I can do either the Fred Schneider or Kate Pearson part, so it is your choice!

If you are STILL too nervous, then you picked the wrong date. If your mouth gets all crinkly like Fred Flintstone and nothing comes out, I may smile and forgive you, or I may mock you daily until the day your Yelp account finally closes. We'll play it by ear once I see your chicken tactics in action. No refunds! ; )

BOOTY SHAKIN'!
Depending on your karaoke performance, you can head for home in mortification, or you can triumphantly head with me to the dance floor at Berlin, your entourage in tow, close your eyes, and drift away on the music. Berlin is listed as a gay club but it doesn't seem gayer than any other dance club to me. Everyone is very friendly, and that is why I like it.

4am Time to go home. I will ensure you get there safely. I cover the cost of all your food, drinks, and transport. Anyone can bid because I assure you I will not allow any funny business on this date, no matter how vehemently you may insist.

My charity of choice is Pillars which does amazing work to counsel victims of domestic violence, among many other fabulous low cost social services. These people are caring and generous, and I will match your donation.

Let's Rock!

http://www.pillarscomm.../

Why is it that every time I go to Joliet I feel like I am in a post-apocalyptic movie like Omega Man or 28 Days Later?

Oh right, the desolation!

While some of the western river towns like Aurora and Elgin seem to be enjoying a bit of a resurgence in the last few years, (to my eyes, anyway) Joliet is the same as it ever was and shows no sign of either sparking back into life or crumbling into dust. It just is.

Which may be a good slogan for them... "JOLIET: The City That Is".

Keep it, Joliet. My gift to you, no charge.

Sure, yeah, it is a city of moderate size. It simply has no population, or none that I have ever seen in the downtown area anyway. This may unnerve some people, but for one with misanthropic leanings such as myself, I find it rather charming, and believe it or not, an additional reason to come back once or twice a year.

Some people think that such desolation would attract the criminal element, but really why would it? There is no one to rob. Not only that, the buildings are all empty. There is nothing to loot. When the river pirates sail down the Des Plaines, they do not stop in Joliet because as they say "No booty thar be!"

But if they did stop, they would find a swell place to eat and drink in the Chicago Street Pub. Even the snootiest of beer snob pirates would sheathe his cutlass and take notice of the sixteen beers on tap. I noticed, and I don't even drink beer. Any pirate that has sailed the seven seas certainly would demand variety in their beers, and they would certainly find it at Chicago St.: English, Irish, Belgish, Germish, Costa Riquish, Jamaiquish, and probably several other 'ishes I am forgetting.

The food is very tasty and reasonably priced, so when you're low on doubloons, you can still fill up for a full night's pillagin'. I had a bacon cheeseburger that was excellent with delicious fries also. With several cokes my bill was less than $8.00. Considering the high quality of the food, this seems dirt cheap to me.

Chicago Street is Irish pubby in atmosphere, but really the best place is in the beer garden out on the sidewalk where you can gaze out upon an empty city where no cars will drive by. I find this very pleasant and relaxing without the rest of the world around, just you and your friends and whatever buccaneers might be inside despite the loot vacuum that exists in this city. It is nice that this oasis exists in Joliet so that I may enjoy the desolation in comfort.

I actually saw the bartender answer the phone, then hand it to various patrons several times during the night. There are a number of non-pirate regulars here also that are comfortable enough to hand out the bar's phone number as a contact number. I had thought such a practice was obsolete, but it is charming in its way.

The PA is not much to speak of. A bundle of mismatched speakers, amps, and mixers that were not functioning properly and actually held up the beginning of the show, since no one seemed to be versed in their operation. Sonic quality was poor, if still functional. This is the one thing holding back Chicago Street Pub from four stars, in my opinion. Minimal investment would make this a fine place to see a show. If I were to judge the pub alone, it would be four stars, no question.

The bathroom was somewhat rickety, but clean, so I have no complaint.

This may be the first review where I have talked about menu and pirates more than PA and bathrooms. If you are still curious if pirates do or do not frequent this establishment, I have to admit I am unclear on that myself, and I am also unclear as to how pirates made their way into this review. So don't bother asking, matey, just go and see for yourself. And bring your club and a bucket of golf balls, because you'll be able to hit them in any direction down the street without anyone yelling at you.

DISCLAIMER-- The Daniel T. Organization does not endorse the following: destruction of private property, pillagin', use of the term "Belgish", golfing, or loot vacuum.

Thank You.

I don't know squat about food. But I do know squat about music. Perhaps even more than squat, and for that reason I am not listening whatsoever.

That is to say, I have engaged my talent for selective listening. In my line of work, it is important to be able to listen to multiple sounds at a time. It is equally important to be able to tune out certain sounds when they are unimportant or distracting.

This talent of mine that I have developed over many years does not have much application in my daily life. The few times I get to flex my multi-listening abilities are rush hour at the airport or unobtrusively eavesdropping at restaurants or simply listening to the elevator music while having a conversation simultaneously. Virtually no one ever even realizes that I am doing it unless I burst out laughing after hearing "Hungry Like The Wolf" recorded as a pan flute orchestra.

That's not a joke. I think restaurants like to play songs with "hungry" in the title or lyrics as kind of a subliminal message auto-suggestion hypnosis. They think most people don't even hear it.

But I do.

I would normally gladly enjoy the conversation and background music simultaneously. Here at Golden Thai, I have chosen to turn the conversation off altogether for two reasons:

A. The conversation is not worth participating in.
B. The music here is pretty good actually.

"...men can NOT be trusted for any reason whatsoever, and I'll tell you..."

DEFINITELY not worth participating in. Fortunately, my participation is unwanted anyway, and I set my head oscillating at regular intervals to complete the illusion of an audience member.

The music being played is nothing I recognize. I would gather these artists are likely Thai or something from that region of the world, but as I said, the music is actually pretty good.

Sitting back I stretch my ears out, my head and tongue on autopilot, wagging at appropriate moments, listening only to Thailand's finest.

And I dig it.

After the CD changer's latest grind, I really dig it! Whoever this guy is, he is really good, and his voice is sweet! I envision a giant crooning stick of butter.

"...when I was traveling the astral plane..."

It's going to be awhile. It's just you and me, Butterstick! If there were a reanimated amalgamation of the corpses of Sinatra and Elvis, it would be jealous of this man's talents.

"...the Salvation Army Store wouldn't take back the scarf! I was out $1.50..."

Latin rhythms? This guy is out of control!

"...visited by three spirits that wanted to deliver a message..."

Oh dear, we're back in the Shadow Realm again. As long as this CD doesn't run out, I'll be alright.

The melodic structure is totally different than typical western tastes, and the vocal harmonies totally blow my mind. I need this CD!

The completion of the meal was my reprieve from accidentally hearing any more of the conversation. I went up and asked the lady behind the counter who the artist was. When she handed me the CD case, it looked like a microscope slide of squiggly bacteria with a handsome asian man, acoustic guitar in hand, smiling through it. Whatever language it was, I certainly couldn't read it.

I asked her to write the name of the artist down for me and she obligingly handed me a piece of paper that read:

              ---theta - theta - backwards "L" - jesus fish - N---
---K - jesus fish - jesus fish - N - O - R - backwards "L" - sigma---

Oh well. I guess I'll just have to come back for my Sonic Butterstick Fix.

Fortunately, the beef fried rice here is reasonably priced and made just how I like it. Tender beef, lots of egg, flavorful rice and no weird stuff like peas or corn. You'll have to ask someone else about its authenticity. See my previous comment re: "squat".

I'd come here more often if this place weren't in a weird part of town that is a major pain to park in. The staff is really friendly. The bathroom definitely needs a remodel.

All things considered, Golden Thai is a great place to not listen to somebody. Instead, just float away on buttery cloud while Elvisnatra shakes its decaying fist.

I am still hallucinating from my trip to Serene Teaz.

First of all, there's this letter "z" that just won't go away every time I see the store's name in print. But that's really hardly worth mentioning even though it seems I have already done so.

A week or so ago, I was having a discussion about tea with my fellow Yelpers. Not only did it  turn out that everyone had startlingly diverse tastes in tea type and preparation, but the lion's share of the teas mentioned I was surprised to find I had never even heard of. Obviously, it was high time I took a step forward for edification in tea knowledge.

One tea mentioned in particular took my interest, an almond tea. I love almonds and I eat handfuls of them every day. When I asked where this curiously rare almond tea could be found, I was directed to Serene Teaz.

I decided to make the trip to Elmhurst as soon as possible. It was an easy enough place to find, just west of York Rd. across from the Metra stop.

I am welcomed warmly upon entering, briefly shown around the shop, and shown how everything was organized. I am not ready to out my tea ignorance immediately, so I ask to browse. The lady retreats good-naturedly and assures me that if I want to taste anything they would gladly brew a fresh sample for me.

I start to poke around a bit. The shelves are all stocked with 2 oz. and 4 oz. prepackaged sizes of their teas and custom blends. And then there's this little unassuming jar. Out of curiosity I pick one at random from the shelf and open it...

...and find myself high on a ledge in the Himalayas, looking down on a caravan of monks making their way through a sheltered pass to a hidden city, perhaps a forgotten beyul. Perhaps even the mystical Shambala...

Whoa, daddy, that's pungent!

I am not one who generally has much appreciation for my sense of smell. I have usually found I am happier the less information my nose is giving me. But as startling as it was to be nasally transported through time and space, it was also kind of fun!

Let's see what else they got! Once again grabbing at random...

...galloping frantically on horseback across the bitter black wastes of the Plateau of Leng where multiple realities converge. Minions of the High Priest Not to Be Described, those degenerate corpse-eating cultists are right on my heels...

Yikes! Maybe I won't open that one again.

I am stunned at the pungency and freshness of these samples. This is going to be one awesome cup of tea, I can tell. If anything, it certainly won't be boring!

I feel like I'm using my nose for the first time in my life! Where else can I go? I find my sought-after tea: Almond Cookie. I take a whiff...

...and find myself relaxing in pie. Not in the creepy fairy tale witch way, but if I had gone to draw a bath in the tub and pie came out of the faucet...

"I'd like to try a sample of this one, please."

While I wait, I smell my way across the store, and ask for a few more samples along the way. My brain takes a holiday with my nose driving the sleigh...

...fruit heavy jungle canopies...

                 ...aromatic succulent desert cacti...

                                               ...exotic African granaries...

"Will that be all, sir?"

This is the point where I had to admit that even though I now had a dozen bags of great-smelling, consciousness-altering, teleportational leaves, I had no idea what to do next. All my previous tea experience came out of a cardboard box, and I wanted to make sure I did everything correctly. I certainly didn't want to end up transported to the wrong parallel dimension, and the last thing I wanted was for those cultists to catch up with me.

The lady was very gracious and explained to me all the different methods for brewing loose leaf tea. She also pointed out that all their bags are labeled with tea-specific brewing time and temperature instructions so I wouldn't have to worry about angering any monks for entering Shambala unenlightened.

I enjoyed my Serene Teaz so much, I went back the next week during their Boston Tea Party, and bought many holiday gifts tax-free.

Take that, King of England!

I was accepted to Pillars for counseling as a victim of domestic violence. I've never sought counseling before but the counselors here clearly know what they are doing.

These people do a difficult and often thankless job. The service they provide to society is a necessity. I wanted to give them the recognition they deserve.

To all the people at Pillars, thank you.

I hope no one ever needs to access their services, but if they do, they will be very glad that Pillars is there to help them get their life back to normal.

There's a tedious enrollment process due to public funding, but just push through it so you can get to the healing process. They may ask you some uncomfortable questions, but that is to make sure you get assigned the appropriate services for your situation.

Don't hesitate to call. Don't ever let anyone tell you to keep it quiet.

Your best friend from childhood is not feeling well. In fact, they are decidedly ill, and are likely going to need a procedure. Let's say it's an appendectomy, an episiotiomy, an endoscopy... something relatively routine, but still significantly unpleasant. This is your greatest friend who has always been there for you through the worst moments of your life: losing your job, the heartcrushing, self-esteem shattering breakups, the passing of your dearest loved ones. This true companion has always given you everything you needed, and asked nothing in return.

But now the call has come. Now you are needed, and you would do anything for this person who has caught more metaphorical bullets with their chest to keep you from harm than you can count. You will do anything it takes.

"My friend, just to make sure that everything goes flawlessly to restore you to your finest health, I think I had better perform your tracheotomy."

You are not this foolish.

Nor am I.

Over the years, I have dug into more projects than I can count. Since childhood, I have been a tinkerer, a do-it-yourselfer. I choose to do repairs I have never done for the very reason that the learning is more important than the success. And far more often than not, success follows with the mere belief that success is possible. The less experience I have, the more I want to attempt it. This philosophy applies to all things mechanical and electrical. I can, will, and have torn into the coffee maker, the VCR, the car, the refrigerator, the dryer, the computer, the wall, the furnace, the service panel, the staircase, the chimney, the sewer, and the foundation without a second thought, and restored it to its proper functionality or better.

But there is one thing I will not do...

I sought out my best friend late in high school. I had decided that I was mature enough to finally have a friend of the quality, purity, and endurance that would last a lifetime. I had worked hard, learned much, and suffered much, and knew I had finally earned the right to enjoy that sort of friendship.

The search was very short. I knew I would know this friend when I saw them. And without a doubt I did. In the entire world, there was only one for me. The moment we met, I knew, and I made my pledge that as long as I have breath we will always be together.

It is not fancy nor is it flashy. It is simple, unassuming, reliable, and pure. But more important than anything, it is mine. My most trustworthy friend until death take me or the world end:

My Martin mahogany dreadnought!

We quickly bonded and had many adventures. The music we made together was better than anything I had done previously, and while it may not win accolades, it was uniquely ours alone.

The time eventually came to bring our music to the public. I needed to have a condenser microphone/piezoelectric installed with a preamp. But I couldn't, wouldn't do it myself. While I felt that I could certainly be capable of such an installation, the thought made me queasy.

The very idea of taking a drill to my lifetime friend was...

Unholy.

Fortunately, there are people far more qualified than I that will ensure the job is done right. I have been going to Third Coast back when it was Bob's Guitar Service, but the same people are there still and the same top quality of service is done. All the work they have done for me has been nothing short of excellent.

And let me tell you, these guys are no slouches. While my job was challenging, my musician friend had some even greater issues with his Taylor. He had a habit of playing 13gauge telephone wires with a brass slide. The wear was so great that he had to have the instrument refretted and recrowned. Twice. And every time it came home from Third Coast, it played like a dream. To us, this seemed nothing short of a miracle.

Their office is conveniently located near Harpo studios so that whenever Oprah goes wild with Metallic fervor and smashes her axe a la Pete Townshend or El Kabong, they can have her instrument back and rockin' the middle-aged mothers with her BC Rich Warlock and her Fifteen Screaming Fingers of Death. Rock on, Oprah!

If you like the smell of hardwood and glue, the smell of craftsmanship, make sure you visit someday.

Thanks to Third Coast, my Martin is kept healthy and our music is reaching new personal heights. When it comes to the inner workings of your best friend's physiology, some things should just remain a mystery.

KJ Dave - "Open the CD drawer, HAL. I need to pick the next song."

HAL - "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave."

That's right, pitiful humans! The Karaoke Robots are taking over! All hail your new masters! The sun has now set on the KJs as Artificial Intelligence rises to supremacy.

I had been working in San Francisco, and ended up with several days off. Being a karaoke enthusiast and a Yelper, I searched unofficial Yelp events for that weekend and found the perfect thing for a Friday night: 7 Bamboo!

I made my way down to San Jose, parked, and found 7 Bamboo with little trouble. Walking up it didn't even look open, so I knew I had found the perfect spot. Upon entering, I was immediately recognized and welcomed by the UYE organizer, which was very nice for me being completely foreign to this side of the Rocky Mountains.

When he started to tell me the house karaoke policies, I was intrigued to find out the whole process was automated. My audio engineering interest was piqued, and I decided singing could wait until my nerdiness craving was satiated.

I was introduced to Toqer who designed and built the system, the Karaoke Robot, as I immediately started calling it. He was very friendly and happy to show me his nifty little invention. He just made me promise not to tell anyone that the cybernetic core of the device was fashioned from a curious glowing metallic substance that seemed to have unusual sentient properties he had discovered in a meteorite that fell to earth one late... Hmmm... Perhaps I've said too much already...

The practical applications of said robot are something like this:

Someone who wants to sing buys a tag for $1.00. They scan the barcode on their tag at the kiosk (The Robot's Input Terminal) and type in their name. Then they can search the catalog either by song title or by artist. Once they select their song, their name and song is displayed on a screen next to the stage so everyone can see who is next and what song they are singing as well as how many people will be singing before they go on.

Now here is where it gets really cool:

The Robot automatically begins the next song after the current one is complete. The finished singer passes off the mic to the new singer. No wasted time. No KJ chitchat. No fumbling for discs. No song choice mistakes. The Robot is never wrong! The Robot even adjusts the digital reverb automatically appropriate to the song.

There's still even cooler stuff:

If you want to sing more than one song, you can just buy more tags and put them in all at once. The Robot recognizes your name and automatically staggers your choices giving preference to people based on those who have sung less times that evening. Essentially, one person can't hog the stage all night. So a new name will get pushed towards the top of the order and push down other names that have already sung that night. No bribing or making friends with the KJ. The Robot has no need of your foolish human companionship!

Some silly humans try and fool the Robot by using a fake name in an attempt to get preference. This is the only place where the process is not automated. I suggested a camera with image recognition and some sort of relay-activated pneumatic catapult to Toqer, but for now if you're a cheater, he'll just shut you down and drag you off the stage and ban you from singing at all that night. Do NOT try and manipulate the Robot! I'm sure he'll have that catapult up and running in no time...

I had one of the finest karaoke experiences of my life at 7 Bamboo! As the night went on, the place got totally jammed with people, but in the best way possible. There were all different types of people, but they all had one thing in common: They all LOVED to sing.

Nowhere else have I ever seen a love of singing so evident. Everyone was watching the singer on stage and cheering them on. Room was tight, but people still got up to dance. This place was all about karaoke! After my song, I had my hands shaken by a heavy metal dude and a hiphop dude at the same time. Both had big smiles on their faces. In fact, everyone did, especially me. It was the proverbial sea of smiling faces that I had always heard about but never witnessed. I've never felt more at home so far from home before.

I have to give an extra-special shout out to my Yelp San Jose crew who had never met me before, but welcomed me like a long lost brother. I won't out them by name, but you guys really made my whole boring business trip worthwhile, and I still have the fondest memories of that night now a year and a half later. You folks know how to sing, look good doing it, and love every minute of it!

I long for the day I can return to San Jose and rock  the 'Boo with you one more time, Yelp Style!

To those of you who have never made it to 7 Bamboo, I say this:

Embrace the Robot, or the Wheels of the Revolution will crush you!

It was Halloween night, and I needed to sing. Badly.

I had a significant amount of Rock that had been trapped in my gut for months, just sitting there, weighing me down like 10 pounds of... uh... rocks. Those stagnant rocks had gathered 10 pounds of moss. That moss had grown 10 pounds of mildew as well as become home to 10 pounds of numerous biting, stinging insects trying to eat their way out of my innards. With my weight having metaphorically increased by 1/3, I needed to sing, badly, before a storm of insects burst forth from my midsection chittering madly and dragging my entrails in all directions. While this may have been an appropriate scene for Halloween night, I figured I could just go sing, which would be more pleasant for me certainly, and likely also for anyone who happened to be nearby. And I knew just the place to go...

As usual, I was welcomed by "The Sarge" who may be the best bartender ever. There was a $5 cover tonight, which was new, but knowing the scene I paid it without hesitation. Plus I heard a little bug inside me say, "Hurry up, or I'm tap dancing my way out of your trachea."

Remember your high school years where you would go to see your friends' punk rock bands play in the basement of the rich kids' houses whose neglectful parents were never home? It is a similar atmosphere here. The ceiling is just as low, so jumping is likely to get you into trouble, albeit hilarious trouble, (especially if you happen to be wearing a banana suit, which I was). You can drink legally, though probably more cheaply in this basement but pool, however, will cost you more: a whopping 25 cents. While there is only one cue, it is straight so there is something to be thankful for.

My drinks were dispensed by Sarge and Sarge's son who is also a nice fellow. Sarge gives a heavy pour, and the American Legion Hall prices are dirt cheap. Sarge also digs Barry Manilow, and busts out a mean rendition of "Copa Cabana" if given the chance. While waiting to sing, I perused the war memorabilia and I lost a staring contest with a portrait of Franklin Roosevelt whose stern gaze oversees the bar to make sure no one's karaoke shenanigans dishonor the American flag.

Checking out the list I saw plenty of karaoke rarities which was most exciting. Even if I can't sing them, it is always more fun to see such rarities sung as opposed to the usual top 40 garbage or yet another Journey song. I found such gems as I have never seen anywhere else including:

Boomtown Rats
King  Floyd
The Damned
James
Billy Preston
Stone Roses

While I may have lost the staring contest with FDR, I actually won a costume/singing contest this night. Competition was stiff: my opponent was a Mr. Clean with impressive eyebrows and pillowed biceps, but my Banana Split costume combined with my vocal stylings won the crowd. Apparently, the audience liked to be pelted with vocal-borne smelly rocks and stinging insects. Or perhaps my satisfaction and joy of unleashing 100% Pure Unbridled Rock was infectious. In any case, I promised to prescribe to myself a monthly dose of karaoke with Rory to keep me sane.

Rory is a swell fellow and always has something complimentary to say about the performers. He rocks his nerd mystique without shame and I have the utmost respect for it. Double Secret Bonus Nerd Points for having all his promotional graphics modeled after the 1980s G.I. Joe action figure packaging!!!

Speaking of high school basement parties, I ran into two friends I went to high school with that I hadn't seen in years, three Yelpers, and spied a few familiar faces from my Pontiac days. I can happily roll in solo and know that folks will be friendly. I am not the only one who has found the new place to go for an esoteric karaoke fix.

As Bleedin' Gums Murphy said, "Music is a fire in your belly that comes out your mouth, so you'd better put an instrument in front of it!" Or in this case, a microphone. Some people just don't get it. The child-like joy of singing gets lost on many people as they age, which to me is very sad. Some of these people go so far as to mock or disdain those who do sing, but they really don't understand that "being good" isn't even the point.

Music is a spiritual thing, and if you get it, I'm sure I'll see you here sooner or later.

Helpful Hints:

1. It may not look like it is open or even welcoming when you get there, but just go on in, you'll love it! Just make sure you checked Rory's above website for the appropriate dates since this is a once a month kinda thing.

2. Bathrooms, while not particularly spacious, are developed with military modesty and efficiency. Poop before arriving unless you like being watched. The one innovation I like is mirrors over toilets but NOT over the sink. This way people can admire themselves in their down time, but when it is handwashing time, they stick to business and get out of the way, since there is little room to get past the sink user.