I live in Owensboro.
That should be enough of an explanation for anything I write or say.
Today it is not enough.
I have written about, Bacchus, a bar in town a couple of times before, so it's only fair that I write about another "B" name bar--the Boiler Room.
I will be renaming it, today.
Meat Market.
I know you're probably saying, "Yeah, yeah, so what? Every bar is a meat market."
Okay, so if it is, disregard this blog and get back to your People magazine, and let me get on with it.
I was fortunate enough to attend the Meat Market Saturday night. And the sales were hot. All the cuts were there in herds. Tenderloins, sirloins, T-bones, chucks, rumps, and all! It was so tough making up my mind.
I wonder what cut I would compare to? There were fresh calves for veal, old hag cows for what I don't know, and there were the prize cows, real blue ribbon beauties.
Either entrance to the Meat Market resembles a death chute at a slaughterhouse. You are herded in and paraded in front of all the other grades. It's actually quite terrifying. There's booze and mediocre music, which I guess is there to pacify us before the slaughter. Occasionally, two bulls will get over stimulated and have to lock horns to show off in front of the females and other bulls.
I guess the only difference is that this is not a "by the pound" going rate. It's the exact opposite. The skinnier the better. The emaciated cow sells here. The emaciated cow with great milk bearing teats, that is.
God, I want a steak right now.
That should be enough of an explanation for anything I write or say.
Today it is not enough.
I have written about, Bacchus, a bar in town a couple of times before, so it's only fair that I write about another "B" name bar--the Boiler Room.
I will be renaming it, today.
Meat Market.
I know you're probably saying, "Yeah, yeah, so what? Every bar is a meat market."
Okay, so if it is, disregard this blog and get back to your People magazine, and let me get on with it.
I was fortunate enough to attend the Meat Market Saturday night. And the sales were hot. All the cuts were there in herds. Tenderloins, sirloins, T-bones, chucks, rumps, and all! It was so tough making up my mind.
I wonder what cut I would compare to? There were fresh calves for veal, old hag cows for what I don't know, and there were the prize cows, real blue ribbon beauties.
Either entrance to the Meat Market resembles a death chute at a slaughterhouse. You are herded in and paraded in front of all the other grades. It's actually quite terrifying. There's booze and mediocre music, which I guess is there to pacify us before the slaughter. Occasionally, two bulls will get over stimulated and have to lock horns to show off in front of the females and other bulls.
I guess the only difference is that this is not a "by the pound" going rate. It's the exact opposite. The skinnier the better. The emaciated cow sells here. The emaciated cow with great milk bearing teats, that is.
God, I want a steak right now.
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