While reluctantly going out for dinner at one of those exclusive joints in Manhattan last week, I was appalled by what took place. Firstly, I must not have been dressed fashionably enough because they seated me right next to the kitchen door. As I looked around, it was clear most of these people were not much like me. I had a hard time believing this place was as exclusive as I was told because the place was 20% empty. Most of the faces that sat on top of the stiff necks that rose out of tightly tailored, collared shirts were filled with plastic and botox. The ladies seemed like they were all in varying stages of having the same face installed to replace their original ones. What the fuck am I doing here???

The absence of anyone other than privileged, pasty looking fuckers made me feel incredibly uncomfortable even though I was apparently one of them. Then I was approached by a waiter who came to my table and acted like he was Thurston Howell. You gotta be kiddin me… Even the fuckin employees act like entitled douches in this place? Just in case I wasn’t already feeling uncomfortable enough, I was handed the menu. That’s when I really got pissed off. The special salad du jour was a fuckin kale salad with some other fee fee shit thrown in to make it sound special. You gotta be kidding me…  One of the prominent establishments in Manhattan is trying to pass off a $23 appetizer whose leading role is played by a plant that serves as a drip tray for Ice cream scoops of tuna salad on buffet lines? Do these people have any idea what food is??? When did kale get promoted and who’s the asshole that decided that what was once a green plate for my shrimp cocktail is now the main event? What the fuck am I gonna have for an entree, Parsley parmigiana? I’m so mad I’m gonna start a campaign to prevent garnishes from ever becoming the prominent representative on any plate! Not only that, I’m gonna make cilantro pay for it!

Then I started getting pissed again when I realized everything I ordered was misrepresented entirely. The “Chocolate Basil Vinaigrette” was completely lacking chocolate as well as basil. It was vinegar. That’s all!  How the hell could anyone possibly trust this place let alone like it? As each course came out, I had a hard time seeing any of the ingredients that they were supposedly made from. Tiny plates with an artistic edible yet microscopic blob that was supposed to consist of products it was impossible to identify. I listened to the couple at the table next to me talk about their meal like they were filming an episode of Top Chef. Then I ate this tiny fuckin piece of cheese that was supposedly some of the most sought after of cheeses. When I bit into the piece that was barely bigger than a grain of sand, it tasted like it was extracted from the asshole of a dinosaur fossil. There was nothing on the table that was capable of removing the wretched taste from my mouth. If this is how the other half lives, count me the hell out!

When it came time for dessert, I was looking for anything that might get the taste out of my mouth. That’s when it got worse. The selections were all made of shit that have no business being part of dessert. Thurston Howell tells me about the Celery Parfait and the Eggplant Custard, and Green Tea Cake with a pickled fig glaze.  I probably should’ve just gone to Chinatown and ate Pigeon Chow Fun in a basement. The whole meal reminded me of that Watchtower from SPAC.

On the way out I caught myself still being pissed off about the promotion that Kale got. I just spent a ton of loot on eating 7 courses of bat guano. I felt like hitting Yelp and every other social media platform to write a regular man’s review about the barely edible bullshit I just consumed. Then it really hit. Why do I even give a shit? Why am I pissed off at Kale? Why was I wasting precious breaths actually being pissed off about a damn cake that was made of celery? I thought I might feel better if I found some other folks that might jump on board and bash this highly successful establishment that is known for serving some of the best food in the city. I realized deep within my soul at that very moment that the asshole in the equation was really me. Any time you read the reviews of a great and popular establishment, there’s always a couple of assholes that whine and complain about every single thing they had to endure when they went. You look at the review and think to yourself, “What an asshole!” Well, there I was in the spotlight in my own mind. Chief asshole! While I’m sure some of you will be happy to agree with my statement, you’re gonna need to understand that you’re an asshole too. At times, everybody is an asshole. Sam Cutler is an asshole. Everybody that’s upset with Sam Cutler is an asshole. Everybody that agrees with Sam Cutler is an asshole. Once you realize that we’re all assholes at varying times throughout our lives, it frees you up to give people the space they need to experience their own personal moments of being an asshole. As much as I love Phish, I thought Sam’s review was hilarious. He’s a cool dude and I love him! Can’t we listen to people’s take on something and laugh about it even if it’s different from ours? I know one thing, Billy Joel is happy as fuck that Phish fans have somebody else to troll now. Messing with the Phish community guarantees you a life sentence of some of the most hilarious trolling ever. Dude will be having donuts delivered to his van every day!

I went to see Phish last night for the two hundred and something time and had a blast. I danced my ass off with people that were connected to having an experience that’s unlike anything else that’s offered in Rock and Roll. I experienced a band that has a blast and is KILLIN it in life. I saw a band that will come out and ROCK a cover of Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing”. As I danced my ass off a few feet away from Fishman’s dad, I watched him boogie with a smile on his face as he did the entire show. I thought about being in that position and watching my own son or daughter doing their thing to a sold out crowd at Madison Square Garden. Whether I could identify with the experience the fans were having or not, I would certainly be able to identify with the joy it was causing tens of thousands of people to experience. That’s rarified air to breathe. Not many people get to experience that.

While there’s plenty of people that feel the need to repetitively say they don’t get it, nobody that’s having the time of their lives doing something that they love is really giving a shit whether you get it or not. When I’m playing golf, I couldn’t care less what the rest of the world thinks about the game. Most people suck at it anyway. The world could use more people to decide they’re never gonna play golf again. As I sit here today, I couldnt care less whether or not you’re gonna eat kale as a main course. I wouldn’t spend my time trying to be convinced that the cheese I ate was good or trying to convince people that love it that it isn’t. You can eat all the eggplant custard you want and I really don’t give a shit. I hope we can all keep having fun and giving each other the room we require to experience our lives. I don’t care if you like swimming, I’m gonna go swimming now. I don’t care if you like pancakes, I just had some pancakes. I’m not gonna argue with you about whether or not you like Mexico, I’m just gonna go to Mexico. I’m not trying to convince you to hate the Watchtower from SPAC, it’s OK if you loved it. I’m just excited Jerry Week begins in a couple of days! Everybody Loves Jerry Week! Except for the assholes that don’t…

Love You Forever And No Matter What!