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| - The Doug Out is the kind of place Hunter S. Thompson might go looking for a gang bang and a cheap steak.
I don't have anything personal against motorcycles, apart from the fact that they're constantly rolling down Rte. 303 to-and-from the Doug Out, past my house. It's a leather-clad asshole parade down my street every weekend in summer in Richfield.,..the price of living somewhere that qualifies as "scenic" by Ohio standards. Sure.....somewhere deep beneath my layers of education, domestication, and gentrification, I might acknowledge that motorcycles are pretty cool, but I still prefer to exchange hard looks with the grizzled bikers and their disturbingly masculine women from my fuel-efficient foreign car every time I drive past the Doug Out.
So hence, I've been boycotting this place ever since moving to Richfield six years ago. My boycott was part indignation, part fear. And yet, there is one thing that will motivate me to overcome these fears and petty objections.....karaoke!
I learned that the Doug Out offers karaoke (that noblest of art forms) on Friday nights, so I walked through the snowstorm last night to have my moment with the mic, and put an end to my boycott. I am a terror when it comes to karaoke. Let me introduce you to my set list from last night:
Devo - Whip It
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Give it Away ( you need an extra pair of lips)
Robert Palmer - Addicted to Love
Prince - When Doves Cry
Doobie Brothers - What A Fool Believes
Warren Zevon - Werewolves of London (as performed by Scooby Doo)
(all sung with both gusto AND irony.)
I know, I know...an awesome selection of tunes, right?
In conclusion, the Doug Out is not so scary, and maybe even fun. Sure, some people threw shit at me from across the bar, but that is to be expected when you're publicly mocking a revered vocal talent like Michael McDonald. The good thing is, I'm 6'7" , 230 LBS, and perfectly capable of defending myself. And plus there was some other guy at the bar with immaculate grooming habits and a pricey-looking argyle cashmir sweater, so I figured he would be the first victim if any violence erupted from the mongrels lurking in the bar-room shadows, allowing me sufficient time to retreat to my Toyota and get the hell out of there.
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