Category: Tales From Newport!

Tonight’s episode: “Ridin’ Dirty”

“Hey, Chris,” you might say, “surely the fine people of Newport can’t really be all that bad. They deserve better than your constant mockery.” And perhaps you’re right. The fine people of Newport deserve respect, consideration, and all the finer things in life. Like oxygen, for example. A battered tank of oxygen piped right into their nostrils via a long, clear tube. And that’s not all. They also deserve to go outside in comfort, clothes and social conventions be damned. If the fine people of Newport want to wear their night/hospital gowns outside, then who am I to judge? And if their conical, trunk-like ankles and shins can’t support them, then the fine people of Newport deserve personal transportation in the form of sporty, three-wheeled scooters. Who would deny them that? And if Stanley Spadowski taught us anything, it’s that deep down, in that place inside that makes us human, sometimes what we all deserve is a really, really great mop. A sporty red mop to match our sporty red mobility devices. But if I had to pick one thing, just one single thing on God’s bountiful Earth, that the fine people of Newport deserve above all else, it would be to collect everything I’ve mentioned thus far and take it all for a ride through the drive thru at Arby’s during the lunch rush. Because that’s where I photographed this fine specimen of Newport humanity as she held me up in line for EIGHT MOTHERFUCKING MINUTES while she deafly shouted at the confused teenager in the window, trying with grim persistence to haggle down the price of an extra tub of Bronco Berry Sauce.

I shoulda run this bitch over when I had the chance.

This has been another chilling episode of…

Tonight’s episode: “This Fucking Place”

There’s a “white genocide” conspiracy theory that alleges other races are working to exterminate and replace Caucasians. It’s complete bullshit, of course. But I just spent forty-five minutes in the goddamned, motherfucking Hofbräuhaus, and if other races are listening, I’m pleading with you: for the love of god, REPLACE US. I just watched five grown ass men in lederhosen attempt to perform a polka rendition of “Come On, Eileen,” followed by Van Halen’s “Jump.” ON A FUCKING TUBA. That is a uniquely white on white crime. And the only fitting punishment is extinction. Just let us die. This shit must end.

This has been another chilling episode of…

Tonight’s episode: “Hitty’s”

Previously on Tales From Newport!, we witnessed a dangerous criminal biker gang incite panic in the streets outside of Smitty’s Cafe, a local bar less than a block from my house. And now that wretched hive of scum and villainy has been demolished by an overdosing driver who passed out behind the wheel and drove his truck THROUGH THE FRONT WALL. Unbelievably, he was the only one hurt. Traffic on my street, as you may well imagine, is currently a raging BITCH.

This has been another chilling episode of…

Tonight’s episode: “Gasholes”

Dear troglodytes at the Newport Kroger gas station: it’s only gasoline. It’s not special. It’s not even on fucking sale. Do you think they’re going to run out? Maybe you don’t know this, but gasoline is not hard to get. Our country has a specialized infrastructure in place to help ensure that you can buy yourself a big wet assload of gasoline, in your choice of octane, pretty much anywhere, at any time of day. So why the ever loving FUCK are you dickbags jockeying for positions around the pumps like wildebeests around the summer’s last mudhole? It’s fucking gasoline. They’re not rationing it for the war effort. Did you bring your gas stamps? You gonna do your part to help beat the Kaiser? No. Because you are buying gasoline in Kentucky, and you’re acting like the one inch of snow we’re about to get is the fucking End Times. You live in northern Kentucky, assholes, you goddamn well know that one inch of snow is nothing. Nothing! We don’t even stop wearing shorts for one inch of snow, you cowardly fucking lemmings. What are you, Ohioans? You’re from Kentucky. Fucking act like it.

This has been another angry episode of…

Tonight’s Episode: “Fuck. This. Place.”

deutschbag (dɔɪch’ bæg) n.: male patrons of the American Hofbräuhaus locations who behave as if they are partaking in cherished and manly German traditions which women find attractive, but are, in actuality, customers of cleverly disguised sports bars for geriatrics.

My friend Juergen from Germany writes: “Where can I apply?” Well, Jeurgen, being an actual German, I don’t think you’d make a very good deutschbag. One of the key characteristics of a deutschbag seems to be that they are only pretending to be aware of German customs. I don’t know anything about actual German customs myself, but I’m positive there aren’t many being observed amongst the deadeyed patrons and chronically depressed staff of Hofbräuhaus Newport. In fact, almost everyone seems to spend their time there looking for a waitress so they can actually have a beer, and whining about whatever sport of the week is playing on the two enormous fucking televisions they’ve installed. I can’t remember the last time I got my food while it was still hot, and even the poor bastard they’ve got playing an accordion on stage looks like he’s ready to put a gun in his mouth. As a real German person, I think you would find Saturday nights at Hofbräuhaus Newport to be pretty goddamned depressing.

I know I vowed never to return to this shithole. And I meant it. But in the spirit of transparency, I’m posting that I broke that oath. My seventy-something year old uncle looked at me with enthusiasm and asked if I’d go for his birthday. I didn’t have the heart to let him down, so I said yes. Immediately upon pulling in, the very sight of the completely useless and superfluous parking lot attendant reminded me of what a shit magnet this place has become.

UPDATE: I just had a hamburger and French fries. With a huge side of disappointment. Don’t be jealous. I know we didn’t nuke the Germans in WWII, but if there was ever a justification for it, it would be my last five dining experiences here. But, in truth, I can’t blame Germany. There’s nothing German about this place anymore. It’s just a shitty sports bar with sauerkraut.

This has been another chilling episode of…

Tonight’s episode: “Drinking & Driving”

This is becoming more and more common. The bar on the corner has electric wheelchairs parked outside. You stay classy, NKY! Also, I just noticed that the one on the street is parked illegally. I’m tired of these geriatric scofflaws and ne’er-do-wells terrorizing my town.

This has been another chilling episode of…