Thursday, May 04, 2006

Do I Care?

Once again, the bullshit freely flows out both sides of my mouth. It wasn't long ago -- two hours tops, maybe -- that I was sitting at this very desk having a mildly scintillating conversation with some hot little smartass from Queens about how I casually play off my alleged "sensitivity" to criticism of my writing and of the blog. How my words don't match my actions in terms of how I respond to negative "reviews." How deep down, under all the "I don't give a fuck" bluster, I'm crying on the inside because I'm hurt -- cut to the quick, even -- every time someone writes and tells me an entry isn't worthy of a series of world class blowjobs.

Me being me, I blew this off as nonsense, claiming once again not to "give" the proverbial "fuck."

"You think I care about any of this?" I asked. "You think any of this means anything to me? Some dumb fuck writes me some email filled with grammatical and spelling errors telling me I suck, and you think I'm shedding tears over that? And comments? You think I give a crap about blog comments? I didn't get rid of them because people were giving me shit. I dumped them because nobody ever left a comment that made any fucking sense."

But now, hours after placing the house phone back in the cradle -- I need a new fucking cell -- here I am while the rest of you sleep, sifting through my Statcounter "Came From" page, scanning it for the sort of shit about which I've repeatedly denied caring.

What I like, when going through my referrals, is to find out what people are saying about me on various message boards. When your blog is "out there" like this one has been, you -- or, more accurately, something you've written -- is bound to end up as subject matter on one of these things. Hell, I'm on a few myself, as myself, and I've seen the blog mentioned several times on boards I've frequented. Enough, in fact, to necessitate some seriously painful tongue biting.

The good thing about this is that message boards tend to act as de facto comments sections, and many of the people offering commentary are first-time readers capable of bringing some fresh perspective to the table. The flip side of it all comes when you realize what percentage of the internet is populated by the mentally infirm.

Case in point: I wrote a post a while back about all the shit that bothered me about pedestrian traffic in Manhattan. It was written after a frustrating day and night of attempting to negotiate the city -- having worked both jobs the day before -- and being stalled out all over town by meandering tourists, holiday shoppers and that ubiquitous crew of New York fuckoffs who constantly seem to be in the way whenever those of us who work for a living have to get anywhere on time.

Now, it's no secret that I ride the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) on a regular basis. I used to write about this frequently, and I specifically mentioned Penn Station several times in this particular post. On one message board, however, one poster repeatedly claimed that I was an asshole, and that my opinions were unfounded because I "lived on Long Island," and because people from Long Island "aren't qualified" to talk about Manhattan.

When it was pointed out that the LIRR has dozens of stops in both Brooklyn and Queens and that assuming I lived on Long Island because I had mentioned it was faulty logic, this person stuck to his/her guns and continued to bash me for living outside the city. Following this, someone made the observation that I had referenced Penn Station, saying that my arguments -- provided I did, in fact, live on Long Island -- were obviously justified because people from Long Island might possibly be the only ones "qualified" to offer an opinion on the subject since they're the ones using the fucking place every day.

So you take the good with the bad.

Like tonight, when I read some comments on a music message board and realized that people may have misunderstood my intent when writing this post about what not to say to a bouncer when looking for a favor. On the board in question, the comments ran something like this:

efff this clown !!! Dude's probably making $300+ a night, and we should grease his palm to get in. Shut ur mouth, check 4 weapons, look out for the best interests of the club. I came to enjoy myself & spend $$$ IN the club....not make a donation to your ego.

And this:

If I ran a club I would have my friends go as regular people just to let me know if some dumbfuck like this exists and needed to get a boot. Heck, I'd have my friend slide him a bill or two and then take it out of his last paycheck as it is the reason he was fired.

This guy actually has C&C Music Factory lyrics in his "signature," and it doesn't seem like he's joking, either:

it's a really good idea he has there. shame how it's so wack though.

Yes, it is "wack," and it truly is a shame when you put time and effort into a post and people don't understand what fuck you're writing about. Is it my fault? Is it theirs? A combination of the two?

In the interest of clarification, I'll explain once again exactly what this post was about, so there's no further confusion for these people. Point by point:

1. Yes, "eff" me. I am a clown, and have never claimed to be anything more. Check the archives. Who but a "clown" would spend two years writing a blog about bouncing? Thing is, this post was about people asking me for favors. It was not about simply getting into the club. Nobody's asking you to grease my palm to get into the club unless management decides to make it difficult for people to get in, in which case I can try to do a little business on the side. That's not what the post was about, however. I was writing about all the other shit you dumb fucks try to pull in order to get me in trouble with my employers:
  • Asking me to get you into sections of the club in which you have no business, such as VIP rooms in which you've neither reserved a table nor bought a bottle.
  • Standing in places I've been instructed by management to keep clear of customers.
  • Sneaking women into private -- read: employee -- bathrooms for blowjobs or the consumption of illegal substances.
  • Walking you in or out of entrances other than the front door because you don't feel like wading through the crowd.
All of the above can get me into serious trouble with management, and yet you people ask me for this sort of shit every five minutes while I'm working. If you think you're going to talk me into taking that sort of risk without paying, you're out of your fucking mind.

2. Great idea, dumbass, but the club industry already beat you to it. They're called spotters, and they come up the line every single night. Ever heard of them? And if you think, even for a second, that I'm pocketing all the money I extort from you fucking retards at the door, you're even dumber than I thought.

I'll say this again, for the thousandth time: Management sets the system up to separate you fools from your money. I shake you down, put the money in my pocket, then turn a shitload of it over to them at the end of the night. I've remained at the front door for two reasons. First off, I'm good at it, and I have the ability to squeeze more money out of you desperate jerkoffs than most. More importantly, however, I'm honest. The hierarchy keeps me there because they know I'm consistently turning over my fair share of the cut without getting greedy and trying to steal from them.

Assuming that I'm collecting cover charges, pocketing them, and taking all the cash home with me is too simplistic. If a bouncer tried to do that at any club worth a shit in New York, he'd be fired within fifteen minutes, and likely either arrested or beaten to within an inch of his life.

So yeah, dickhead, it's just that simple. I'm just a big, dumb reject who's been standing at the front door of a major Manhattan nightclub, stealing money from everyone left and right, and somehow, through God's good grace, I've managed to keep getting away with it without getting caught! You have to be fucking kidding me. Get a clue as to how the fucking business works before pontificating from the depths of your ignorance.

So you're right, and if you're you reading this, you know who you are. Evidently, I do care.