God Save the Queen!

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Today is Saint Patrick’s day, Baltimore. It’s that most drunk and sloppy of meaningless phony holidays which are completely insignificant and thoroughly unenjoyable. We’re already on record as being against drinking holidays and the rabble they produce as a matter of principle, and all of this green and phony-baloney Irish crap doesn’t sway our opinion in the least. Throughout history the Irish have shown themselves to be little more than illiterate Papist subsistence farmers, no better than, say, Guatemala when you really think about it. Instead of ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish,’ we prefer ‘Kiss my ass, I’m American!’

Rather than swill green beer and play at being some sort of drunken foolish hooligan, we’re intending to mark today in the manner we think most proper… a celebration of all things English.

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With the closing of Canton’s Tyson’s Tavern last Fall, the area’s base of proper English establishments was reduced by a third. Fortunately, two British outposts remain in Central Maryland as a testament to and a reminder of the greatness of the English nation.

If you’re south of the city, Union Jack’s in Columbia is about as British as it gets this side of the Atlantic. We’ve never been, but the photos on their site remind us instantly of some of the pubs we saw in the high street on our trip to Southampton. With a full menu, some 60 beers, and four distinct spaces, there’s little reason to leave once you’re settled in.

If Howard County is a stretch though, you can still get your full fix of all things Anglo at Brighton’s. Hidden away on the second floor of Light Street’s Intercontinental Hotel, Brighton’s is something of an ironic contrast when compared with Union Jack’s. Although it’s in the heart of the city, the ambiance here is decidedly more upscale with something of a country feel to it. It wouldn’t take much suspension of disbelief to arrive around tea time and swear that you’d walked into a country estate, just after the hunt. It also offer’s close proximity to one of the city’s very best bars, the Explorers Lounge. The martinis here may be damn close to $20, but it’s a guaranteed lock that you’ll be able to drink one in peace without encountering a single one of the tossers and punters about in Federal Hill.

If you’re not as flush as all that though, you can still celebrate the same way we plan to: by donning our Arsenal jersey and spinning a Billy Bragg record while whipping up a vegan shepherd’s pie or a bread pudding, and settling into it with a James Bond flick and a pukka dry martini.

(We’ll keep admiring the English right up until about the Fourth of July, at which time of course we’ll conveniently remember our own Yankee superiority, which bows to no one and takes pride in being a citizen, not a subject.)

Credit Card Roulette: A Better Way to Pay

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The Chop is not typically given over to gambling. We used to frequent Pimlico when the horses were running, and we’re loathe to back out of a bar bet if we’re absolutely sure that it was Paul Rodriguez who co-starred in DC Cab and not George Lopez. Aside from that though, we tend to eschew games of chance believing the odds are always in favor of the house.

So it may be a bit uncharacteristic of us to come out and endorse credit card roulette, but endorse it we do, and heartily.

CCR is great for fancy restaurants. Just make sure you don't eat like a horse...

For the uninitiated, credit card roulette is a game played by a group of friends out dining or drinking. When the bill comes, all parties at the table produce a credit card, which cards are then shuffled and one is picked at random, usually by a waiter or busboy. The owner of the card picked is then gracious enough to pick up the entire check, while everyone else’s card finds its way back into their wallets unswiped.

Credit card roulette is not new, per se, as the earliest reference to it we found in a quick Google search was 2006. It is however new enough that it has yet to gain much in the way of popularity. Despite a few mentions here and there on TV and in the movies and print media, many people have still never heard of it, and those who do know about it often balk. With the great recession taking hold in mid-2007, most people out there were lucky to be eating at all, let alone in restaurants, and that’s to say nothing of picking up the whole table’s bill. We’re slowly crawling out of that mire though, and we hope that 2011 will be the year that CCR really takes off as a social phenomenon.

Granted, it’s not for everyone. For those who go out often enough though, and who tend to go out with the same groups of friends on a regular basis, the rewards easily outweigh the risks. Hell, we endorse paying the bill out of sheer generosity if you can swing it. The reaction to a surprise check pick-up can range anywhere from genuine gratitude to outright awe. If you’ve never felt this from your guests (and at this point they are your guests), you owe it to yourself at least once. Even as a winner (loser) of credit card roulette though, a hearty round of thanks and appreciation are still your due.

Another great aspect of this game though, and the main reason we endorse it with so much gusto is because of the social bonds it can create and nurture. If nothing else, it’s an inducement for the loser to invite everyone else back out for another meal in the hopes of getting back to breaking even. After a few meals are exchanged and it all evens out (and maybe a few new marks get to pay once in a while) the whole thing becomes more of a gentlemen’s society and rotating supper club than anything else. And hey, who doesn’t like a free meal once in a while.

What about you? Have you played credit card roulette before? Won? Lost? Was the loser a sport or did they get all huffy about it. would you try it again? Let us know in the comments.

Rocky Votolato, Matt Pond @ Black Cat Tonight

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So there’s a good show going on tonight. It’s Rocky Votolato and Matt Pond at the Black Cat.

But it’s Tuesday, which means you’ve got to ask yourself the same question you always have to ask when there are good shows in DC during the week, namely: Do I really feel like driving all the way down there on a weeknight? It can be a tough one. On one hand, you might have a blast and see a great show. On the other hand, you might have to wait around so long for doors that you get bored and go home before the show starts and get a parking ticket for your trouble, which happened to us when we went to see Grant Hart recently.

So instead of explaining the pros and cons of driving, and of these two particular artists, we’ve drawn up a handy infographic using some of the bands about which we’ve blogged previously. Using these bands as fixed graduations, you can find where any other band will fit in the scale, and determine whether they’re worth driving to DC for.

As you can see, we wouldn’t trouble to drive that far for a Matt Pond show, but we like Rocky Votolato enough to make the trek, so it’s a go for tonight. Being a west-coaster with a wife and kids in a time when singer songwriters are decidedly out of fashion, Rocky V doesn’t come around too often. We say catch him while you can.

And if you want to wear a knit cap and a knapsack and rock on your heels and tap your chest in the back and be reminded of that girl you were really into who dumped you during that crummy year back in community college, well, go ahead. We won’t tell anybody.

Chucklestorm Presents Neil Hamburger @ Ottobar Tonight

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There’s no doubt about it, Baltimore- America is officially in decline. The Republicans are stealing and pillaging as fast as they can. Nobody has a job to go to, and it doesn’t matter because gas is $4 a gallon and the kids are more interested in cocaine and shitty dance music than work anyway. The last time things looked as bad as this was the late 1970’s, when the end of Vietnam drove a 40 year societal wedge into the US, New York City crumbled into a dilapidated, depraved urban wasteland, and we were all afraid of the big, bad Ayatollah.

What’s our best defense against a whole society crumbling around us? How will we come through it all? The same way they did in the 1970’s, of course… we’ll don our finest loungewear, grab a stiff highball, and laugh our asses off as a sloppy, mean-spirited jerk takes the stage and fires off insults at people who are much richer and better looking than the rest of us.

Neil Hamburger stands up at the Ottobar tonight. 9 pm doors.

The glory days of Don Rickles and Joan Rivers may be long gone, but for better or worse, we’ve still got Neil Hamburger, and he’s coming to the Ottobar tonight. If Neil Hamburger says that God is gay, well then it’s probably true. The man has a tuxedo, after all. And a cocktail in hand. And a stage and a spotlight. Logic dictates that any man who has all that at once must be an authority on things. Therefore God is gay.

And as much as Neil Hamburger knows about theology, well, that’s how much Kenny Strasser knows about yo-yos. You may better know “K-Strass” as the guy who single-handedly punked a handful of Midwest local news stations by appearing on their morning shows under the guise of a yo-yo expert and then not knowing how to do a single yo-yo trick. For our money, this was one of the most absurd and hysterical stunts in recent memory.

Rounding out the evening are “Major Entertainer” Mike H, along with the boys of Chucklestorm themselves, Dan and Alex. If you’re not familiar with Chucklestorm yet, we’d highly recommend you take this opportunity to get familiar, as they just seem to keep getting better all the time. Performing monthly at the Ottobar for the last year or so, Dan and Alex have continued to polish their act consistently, as well as displaying a sharp acumen for behind-the-scenes production like when they brought in Brian Posehn back in November. Getting up on stage and telling jokes to drunks is hard, and pulling it all together is just as difficult. To do them both consistently deserves a measure of respect and support.

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Ottobar is at 2549 N. Howard St. in Charles Village. Tonight’s show is ages 18 and up.

Baton-Type Umbrellas: Look Great Rain or Shine

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Well, when it rains it pours, and it’s certainly been pouring here in Baltimore lately. This being only the second week in March, there’s going to be plenty more rain yet to fall this Spring. We don’t care what Marty Bass or Tom Tasselmyer has to say about it, it’s going to rain. Long and hard. And if you listen to the Chop instead of some inconsequential, trifling TV weathermen, we’ll have you dodging raindrops in style.

Time was when a gentleman was expected to carry a gentleman’s umbrella. For looking dapper while you’re soaking from head to toe, it’s damn near impossible to top Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain. No one has even come close in nearly 60 years. But while his jacket may be overdue for a comeback, his umbrella certainly is not. Your umbrella is not your grandfather’s walking stick. It doesn’t need to have a crooked handle made of African rhino horn or hand-carved mahogany. It doesn’t need a four-inch spear at its crown or a paraffin-dipped canvas shell. It doesn’t even need to cost more than $20.

This look was flash as hell in 1952, but needs a little updating for the 21st century.

While we typically recommend clothing and accessories made to a certain standard, and styled a little more elegantly than what passes muster on the street, we just can’t see any sense in buying a fancy umbrella for several reasons. A walking stick style umbrella is the bow-tie of a rainy day. It’s great for dandy old men, but it’s got no place over the head of a modern, stylish man under 50. When you take it out for a rainy night on the town, you’re going to have a few and forget it in the bar. If not, some other drunk is going to steal it. And they may be doing you a favor, since those things are big and clunky and spill water everywhere and catch the wind and jam mechanically and only really look right when you’re wearing a tie or overcoat anyway.

Instead of thinking of the umbrella as a potential fashion accessory, we’d encourage you to think of it merely as a tool to keep the rain off your head. It should be as efficient and understated as possible, which is why we swear by the baton-style umbrella. Pound for pound they provide just as much surface area, with just a fraction of the size and weight. An umbrella can only keep you dry if you bother to carry it, and it’s much easier to carry a baton with you even when you only think it might rain that day. If it’s not raining, you can stow it away in your messenger bag or failing that, just jam it into your back pocket.

This Ultra Mini model from Samsonite is a perfect example, and at $16.95, is generally available in department stores and other shops. Just keep the color neutral and hold it right-side-up and you can’t possibly go wrong.