Infamy At A Pool Hall #3

It's been a while since I did one of these, because I got sick of being the one nagging these other non-competitive non-pool-playing-wanting sad sack premature geriatrics to come out and get it on, on the field of cloth. I was sick of it. It's like, "I don't need to wheedle you people! If you don't want to come out and face me, then okay then!" So without me driving the driving force behind it, Thursday Pool Night has become few and far between, Thursday-wise. By which I mean, as Thursdays go, relatively none of them have been Pool Nights. Whereas they used to just about all be. Sad. The passage of time, as we slip from glory into dishonor, and a mean, disreputable dotage.

But tonight, the magic was back in spades! On the cloth at least. But the downside was, I was once more forced to bear shocking witness to just how little couth the dudes assembled to play pool have, when it comes to some of the stuff said by my own group, for all to hear. These remarks were all things said right out loud, throughout the night, by the people at my own table! All clean-cut looking gentlemen, one would think from working with us. Shoot. You judge:

"You b******."

"What is this - Fat Tire?" "Sierra Nevada." "It's nice." "Yeah, they do a good job."

"Eight. Corner." "That was cold."

"Nah, man...I don't eat p****. I wouldn't eat p**** if eating p**** was the final elimination round challenge on Fear Factor." "Really?"

"Yeah, while you guys keep talking about work, whose shot is it!??" "Yours." "Damn right it is!"

"That was a dirty shot." "No, it was clean." "Your m*****'s clean!"

"Did you just say 'fuck-a-dead-duckling'?" "YES I DID." "That's like ... necropedobestiality, dude."

"You know, I try to savor every year as it slides by."

"Watch this. Four-six combo." "Gayyyyyy."

"Bonnie Raitt is not Country." "Yes she is, listen to this song - it's Country!" "Bonnie Raitt is not Country."

"Did you call that? Is that what you called?" "Did you hear me call it...?"

"Yeah, go f*** a pencil sharpener."

"Yeah they both have huge egos, but the difference is Bono thinks the universe revolves around him. Stipe thinks the universe is an illusion created by his mind."

"F*** you, Dan!!"

"You know, guys...you don't have to watch Dynasty, to have an attitude."

You tell me. Shocking? Disgraceful? Certainly not classy, that's for sure! It's a damn good thing that I took the precaution of filling the juke with a booming selection of tasteful AC/DC tunes, to somewhat drown out these low-points in what seeks to pass as repartee these days.