Rebbe readies for resettlement, Route 66, and the Riviera...

LTH,

Firstly, with all of this recent hub-bub about Ballo and their questionable choice of viewing material, I should let everyone know what I've been doing the past three months instead of posting here: I've been putting the finishing touches on my new, very own restaurant: Wholesale. The full, legal name of the business is Uncle Hymie's cheapskate penny-piching "careful" with money Wholesale real Jewboy cafe, but for tax purposes (and to save money on the sign) we're just calling it Wholesale. It will be located on Wabash near Adams, making it the perfect stop after you slough off 14K gold as 24K to some unsuspecting goyim. The menu is nothing special, really (Cantonese/American food, not that great - and such small portions, too!) but we're relying on ambience and the real Jewish experience, much like Ballo, to make up for the food. For example, we'll feature strolling Klezmer musicians and Borscht Belt comedians spouting one-liners, select tables will come with their own Jewish mother (who will both chide you for not eating enough and then tell you you're too fat), TV monitors placed around the dining room will show, on rotation, "The Chosen", "Gentleman's Agreement", and the Adam Sandler Chanukkah cartoon film, "8 Crazy Nights", and there will be a bowl of 30-year-old hard candies by the register (but, please, take only one. What am I, Rockefeller?) In addition, customers will be encouraged to read the menu in Hebrew (from right to left) and waiters will periodically come to the tables to ask, "Is anything all right?" We'll also feature two boxes for comment cards, a small one for compliments and an industrial-sized one for complaints. In addition, we'll have both smoking and non-smoking, and extra-heavy, cloyingly sweet perfume and NON-extra-heavy, cloyingly sweet perfume sections.

I guess you can infer where I stand on the Ballo situation. Or, to put it more colorfully, "Dat Ballo place is for da real shtoogatz mammalukes, now pass me dem meatballs wit a lotta grated cheese and mamma mia's red gravy before I call up Tony, Jimmy, Frankie, Frankie Junior, Junior Junior, and Fat Sal da plumber to come ovah heeah and whack ya friggin skull, ya stunade bastid! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!"

Ahem.....

Seriously, folks (is this thing on??) your beloved Reb (or not-so-beloved, depending...) is packing up and moving out, and getting ready to blow his adopted hometown of Chicago and head for the browner pastures of ..... Las Vegas, Nevada! Apart from the natural inclination of a Jew to be in the desert (and following in the illustrious footsteps of such great credits to Chicago Jewry as Frank Rosenthal, fictionalized in "Casino" as Ace Rothstein), I'm hoping to increase my luck and break into the entertainment field - something I thought I could do here, ignorant of the politics, game-playing, and butt-kissing necessary to make a buck playing music in Chicago. Vegas "culture" may be a pastiched, phony representation of other cultures, but the money is green and there is a seeminly never-ending, free flow of it. Hence, a working drummer can not only survive, but thrive in that irradiated, neon, crystal-meth and hormone fueled burg known as (perhaps ironically, given the bizarre range and scope of its "morals") Sin City. Between what the guides have to say, and what some very knowledgeable people on this board have said, it looks like I'll be spoiled for choice when it comes to food, too. From the Western outposts of Aureole, Le Cirque, Lutece, and Bradley Ogden (not to mention many, many other four or five star emporia of haute cuisine), it looks like Vegas offers at least a sample of most ethnic foods (Lotus of Siam sounds like a must-do, even with Thai not being very high on my list of favorite cuisines), with a little Chinatown (in a strip mall, natch - though Sam Woo BBQ and 1-6-8 Shanghai, in addition to the Dim Sum Place someone raved about here recently, look like they all kick butt), some random Vietnamese, good Indian, Mexican of course, Memphis BBQ, soul food, authentic Yakitori and other non-sushi Japanese (for the "whales" like KK Ichikawa, presumably) and, of course, the raging, impossible choice betwen Fatburger and In-and-Out (the perfect, refreshing accompaniment to any 110 degree day - a triple cheeseburger drowned in thousand island dressing! Ugh...). It looks like I'll finally be able to get a real slice of pizza, too, thanks to Montesano's Bakery and IL Fornaio (sorry, Chicago, the sad truth emerges. With the exception of the bakeries like Masi, D'Amato's, Sicilia, etc... your pizza... well, it sucks. And double slap in the head to whoever recommended Robey Pizza in Roscoe Village... wow. I went there about three weeks ago, saw the brick oven, and thought, "maybe, just maybe..." I order, get my personal sized pie, take one bite, put down my knife and fork, and get up to leave. The girl asks me if I want it to go, I say no. She asks if I'm coming back to finish, I say no, I'm done. She can't stop, she's forcing me into it... "was anything wrong?" she inquires. Exasperated, totally fed up with my umpteenth attempt to have a good pizza in this city, I break out the line I reserve for such occasions when someone needs a wake-up call: "Lady, I could shit a better pizza than that." And I walk out. Basta. I'd rather fake it at home with a thin crust Boboli, crushed Contadina, and some grated romano and cubed fresh mootsarell, oregano, black pepper, and olive oil, 8 minutes at 500 and then a minute under the broiler... still not real but about 10,000X better (and much cheaper, in keeping with the theme way up above there...) than the genuine shit I've encountered passing itself off as pizza here. And that's my final 2 shekels about that topic, forever...). There are Asian markets, Italian Delis, and even a small but apparently thriving little Bohemian/coffeehouse/artsy/college scene which may hold some interesting events and people, not to mention vegan and wheat-free baked goods (everyone's favorites, right??). SO, for those who care, wish me luck as I venture westward to re-settle in the town that Ben "Bugsy" Siegel made (and there isn't a statue, or a plaque, or a signpost....) and Steve Wynn re-made. If those two Jews could do it, I think I can too... or at least, get it for you wholesale. Sei Gesind, everyone. Be well, eat well, live well. I shall be chiming in from time to time with anecdotes that will be sure to amuse (or, perhaps begin www.vegaschow.com or something of that ilk.... who knows?). Shalom and bye bye,

Reb

Last night a moderator saw this and pulled it for review pending the availability of other moderators (an action which prompted the snarky alternative farewell post from the same poster). Quite obviously it violates our desire to forestall further, potentially divisive commentary about racial stereotyping. Logically, therefore, pulling it is entirely consistent with our previous decisions. On the other hand, we can't help feeling that LTHForum is a poorer place without the ability to comment so satirically. In other words, we thought it was funny, and you're big boys and girls, so who are we protecting? Our only comment is, if you're going to object to it, the first five objections are perfectly obvious, so let's take those as read.

Best,
Michael / EC
for the Moderators

Count me in the "found it hilarious" camp. We'll miss you, rebbe.

No objections to the post here. Others can just get over it. I wish you luck, Rebbe. Keep me posted on your new location. Maybe we'll be able to hook up for some chow on my next visit to the Desert of the Dammed.

Please do drop us some reports on LOS, the 2005 Mint 500, etc. Your gentle prose will be missed.

First, Rebbe's missing in action, then, for one glorious moment, he's back, then, the worm turns and he's gone. Just when I had climbed down off the ledge...it's onto the morphine drip.

You've got the soul of Fred Below, Odie Payne, and Sam Lay rolled into one. Take care, babe, and all the best as you wander the desert.

Selah