Yo Mama Don’t Wear No Drawers
My brother roped me into a vicious game of dart throwing last night at The Dubliner. It turns out the little bastard is a bona-fide Dart Shark. Personally, I’ve always thought that bars were for drinking and social-ly(z)ing, with some occasional sport watching from time to time. I always associated the dart players with a lesser breed, just a bunch of hyper-competitive sales people who need to have a game going all the time. But recently, those pasty pudgy people who spend their hours locked on to that stupid Golden Tee golf game have eclipsed the dart dullard as the true bottom feeders of the bar scene. Especially bad are the Golden Tee groupies, those guys who do nothing but stand around and cheer on their video golf buddies. Don’t they know they’re in public and people can see them?

After darts we went down to The Dakota and funked it up with Los Hombres Caliente. If you haven’t heard these cats, you must. Bill Summers, the percussionist from Herbie Hancock’s Headhunter’s is the conductor of this latin tinged jazz combo. And when you get on board his groove train, he’ll take you around the world – Cuba, Brazil, Haiti, and back home to New Orleans – all in the space of an hour. The funniest part of the show was when Bill tried to get all us unfunky Minnesotan’s to try and sing this simple cuban chant over an even simpler hand clapped pattern and the whole joint was fucking up his song good. At the end of their last song, Bill led all the other musicians off stage in a typical New Orleans march with everyone still playing their instrument. Then he marched right towards me and put down his hand drum and gave me a big hug. Now I can finally cross off “get a big hug from Bill Summers” from my list of things to do in 2003. Sweet.