Double-Fisting At Minifist

An Attempt At Remembrance

Chaim's memories of last Friday has inspired me to dust off my keyboard and participate in this blog like an actual writer, as opposed to just drawing a salary and commenting on every fifth article written by someone else. So here's what I'm capable of remembering from the 2009 Minifist:

To catch those just joining us up, last Friday was the long-awaited Annual Thunder Matt's Saloon Gathering of Bartenders That Could Actually Make it To Chicago, or "Minifist" for short. I have been told this is a reference to a previous full gathering of bartenders known as "Thunderfist," but I suspect it's actually named after a midget porno that Dave Thomas kept trying to get us to go back to his house to watch.¹

The reason for this gathering was to watch the Cubs play the hated Houston Astros. I'm not kidding when I tell you that the Astros are my "least favorite team that I shouldn't give a shit about" ever. I really hate the Astros. A lot. I'd be more eloquent about it, but the white-hot rage that fills my veins when I think too much about them is making it difficult to type, so I'm going to change the subject.

I was originally scheduled to attend this game, but had to cover for our receptionist, who was out of town. So I was limited to meeting up "after the game," where I expected to meet either several very annoyed or very excited bartenders for a post-game Celebration/Drowning of Sorrows. Then I learned the game had been postponed to another day due to the weather, which was about 10 different kinds of ass that day.

So, at about 4:30, I texted our very own Chaim Witz to ask if they were still at the Gingerman (on account of I was dreadfully sober), and received the following text:

Oh god yes

That's always a good sign. When I finally arrived at the Gingerman (at roughly 5:30, for those keeping score), I found Chaim (who was heroically warring with Sobriety and winning at this point), as well as fellow bartenders Chip Wesley and Dave Thomas in fine spirits. With them were Valued TMS Reader Nick V (whose real name, it turns out is Steve V), a friend of Chip's that I will call "Mark," to protect his identity, and my good friend, Dr. Scotch, whose company I greatly appreciated, considering that I was at least 5 hours behind everyone else on the booze front.²

Not in attendance was the legendary Tommy Buzanis, who had apparently left some hours before I arrived, muttering something about "ditching this sausage party to look for a steak and some broads." I still have yet to meet this mysterious, near mythical man, but his empty seat was treated with the greatest of reverence.

A raucous conversation ensued, whereupon I learned much about how to administer a throat-jab properly, the most obscene insults Lingering Bursitis had used in private correspondence, and the proper way to eat at Wrigleyville Dog (answer: apparently Not at All). At some point (about 3 pitchers in from my arrival), Chaim's head finally hit the table, and we all knew he had defeated Sobriety handily. We bundled him in a cab pointed towards his house, and staggered into the still sunlit evening to find the next bar.

This being Wrigelyville, the bar selection was wide, but shallow. Pretty much the only non-sports bar left open was The Irish Oak (where, incidentally, I spent a fascinating night last fall listening to the Clash's excreble Cut the Crap album and watching a friend of mine get hit on by a DEEPLY RELIGIOUS group of Suburban Cougars). So we went there, Chaimless, but proud. Dave Thomas and I shared a shot of Rumple Minze³, and I trace my ultimate downfall to this point.

Eventually, we left the Oak, losing Nick V and Dave Thomas in the process, and the remaining three (Chip Wesley, "Mark," and myself) decided to go to the Wrigleyville North (a delightfully rednecky and cheap bar not far from the Sheridan stop). Every trip I take to the Wrigleyville North is either a disaster or not memorable at all, so I don't know why I get drawn to it so readily. Unless it's because the drunker I get, the more I want to listen to country cover bands.

We had barely settled in when I got a series of texts from my fiancee, who was in nearby Boys Town, singing Karaoke with her friends at a relatively seedy gay bar named Bobby Love's:

Worst version of tiny dancer ever on the karaoke stage EVER! ;)

And I'm babysitting a sox fan glass. HELP!!!

So, I asked my companions if they minded swinging by, and when I assured "Mark" that there are tons of chicks at karaoke night at a gay bar (there are), and Chip that I wouldn't tell anyone about this (I did), we staggered drunkenly there. On the way, I almost got us lost twice, recieved a text that my fiancee was leaving soon, made it there in time for one more round, coninued to be collossally drunk, watched "Mark" make out with a friend of my fiancee's and mine, failed to sign Chip up for a song (I assume he was planning to sing "Two Minutes To Midnight" or something, but my memory is swimmy by this point), and finally left.

All in all, a fine night out.⁴

---

1. Not strictly a "fact," but I've never let that stop me before. In fact, anywhere from 50-95% of these remembrances might not be literally "factual." But dammit they are still The Truth.

2. Of course, I now know that any less than a 10 hour head start for Dave Thomas is not fair to the rest of the group...

3. I just googled the spelling. Huh. Two words. Weird.

4. Well, if you don't count the huge argument I started with my fiancee on the way home (entirely my fault; I was a mess), the fact that I had to get up at 6:30 am to work a convention, and that I spent all the next day shaking and covered in a thin, clammy layer of beer-scented sweat.

Minifist 2009, May 15th, Time to get fisted!

From the folks that brought you Thunderfist 2008, comes Minifist 2009. Yes, once again multiple bartenders from your favorite Cubs blog that writes nary a word about the Cubs are descending upon Wrigleyville for some baseball, some beers, and perhaps some playful games of grabass.

Joining myself will be none other than Chaim Witz, Dave Thomas and the legend himself, Tommy Buzanis. We'll be sitting in the left field bleachers for Friday's 1:20 game against the Astros. Insults will be hurled, luke warm Old Styles will be consumed, Buzanis will bring his own steak, and so on and so forth.

Anyway if you happen to be attending tomorrow's game in the bleachers feel free to track us down. We'll be the drunk guys wearing the Cubs hats. If you cannot make it to the game, then feel free to join us at the Gingerman Tavern afterward where none other than newest TMS bartender and purveyor of punches to Hitler, Wolter will join us. Just shout "THUNDER MATT!" if you're looking for us. If no one responds, we're probably not around or maybe we didn't hear you so maybe you should shout twice. Also acceptable things to shout would include, "BOBBY SCALES!" and "BASTARD FROM A BASKET!" If you shout the latter I personally will buy you a TMS favorite, the Ron Goldman shot.

Also we'll be updating throughout the day via the ThunderMatt Twitter feed, so keep an eye on that for our whereabouts and such.

Stranger in a Strange Land: South Side

As you no doubt have gathered, all but one of the bartenders was recently in Chicago for Thunderfist 2008. I'll leave the details of that debauchery to the others. Since I was the lone out of place Dodgers fan, I thought I would bring you my thoughts as an outsider attending games at Wrigley and US Cellular Field.

Part 2: South Side

Like Wrigley, I had been to The Cell once before, but it was so long ago I remember next to nothing. It wasn't even The Cell back then, it was still the New Comiskey Park. When I announced I was going back, comments ranged from "why?" to "don't". Seems the neighborhood down there is a bit rough. I have a whole mess of cousins who root for the Sox though, so they were game. With tickets purchased on ebay, it was on: Thunderfist, or at least a tiny portion of it, was going to the South Side on 8/5 to see the Sox and Tigers.

No bus this time. We're all piling in the batmobile for a road trip. I'm particularly excited when my cousins tell me we'll be driving through some serious ghetto on the way. Again though, we have to leave two hours early. We have seats this time, but I'm told its because "the Dan Ryan is brutal". Just who is this Dan Ryan and why does he have a highway named after him anyway?

The ghetto doesn't disappoint. In Maywood there are bums standing in the middle of the road and strip malls with multiple dollar stores in them. It gets even better when we arrive at the The Cell which provides some great views of the projects. We just don't have that type of old fashioned blight back home.

The Cell looks pretty nice from the outside and my excitement over "Mark Buehrle Growth Chart Night" is rewarded when I am handed a life size poster of the pitcher. What I will do with this thing, I don't know. It might look good in the garage.

We make our way to the seats and I am pleasantly surprised. Everyone seems to say the place is a dump and too big. Its bigger than Wrigley to be sure, but what isn't? Its actually a really beautiful park and while our seats were pretty high up, we could see the entire field and Hawk Harrelson making an ass out of himself in the press box.

The game was exciting. Ken Griffey Jr. was making his White Sox home debut which was surrounded by much fanfare. He didn't do a whole lot though. One for six with a single was his final line I believe. Being American League stick-ball, homers were flying out of the park left and right. The Sox fell behind early thanks to the "defense" provided by Juan Uribe and crappy right arm of Gavin Floyd, but they tied it up in the 9th and we went into extra innings. The Tigers went ahead with a two run shot in the top of the 14th, but Nick Swisher came back with a three-run walk off in the bottom of the inning. This was my first in-person walk off and 14th inning stretch.

The Dodger hat got no comments here. I'm not surprised. Not only was I officially neutral in the game, but they're in a different league. There were not too many Tigers fans either. It was almost entirely a Sox fan base. I couldn't find anything like the Fukudome kamikaze headband for a souvenir, so I had to settle for something with the old school logo on it. The regular Sox logo wouldn't work, since I'm pretty sure its still a gang sign out here in LA.

The inevitable question followed: which park was better, The Cell or Wrigley? Apples and oranges. You just can't compare the two. Wrigley is so unique and full of history, you can't compare it to a modern park. I will say The Cell is the nicest AL park I've ever been to by a mile (Anaheim and Oakland blow) and far exceeded my expecations.

The 14th inning stretch. Put THAT on the board Hawk.

Stranger in a Strange Land: North Side

As you no doubt have gathered, all but one of the bartenders was recently in Chicago for Thunderfist 2008. I'll leave the details of that debauchery to the others. Since I was the lone out of place Dodgers fan, I thought I would bring you my thoughts as an outsider attending games at Wrigley and US Cellular Field.

Part 1: North Side

I had been to Wrigley once before, but I was six or seven so I don't remember much. I have only a vague notion of being there. Thunderfist weekend was to be my first adult trip to the Friendly Confines and my first experience in the bleachers.

I was told to be there by 10am, which confused me since the game started at noon. I didn't argue though since I figured the Wrigley vets here at TMS would know better than I. Proudly boasting my Dodgers hat, I set off from my temporary home base in Jefferson Park about a quarter to 9 and take a long and awkwardly quiet bus ride to Clark where I was to hop on another bus to Wrigley. The second bus never came, so I had a brisk walk.

I arrive about an hour later, snap some pictures, and meet up with the other bartenders before we all file in to find our seats. My first thought upon emerging from the tunnel is how small the park is. The bulk of my games are at Dodgers Stadium, which seats 15,000 more than Wrigley, so its quite a difference. Advertising is kept to a minimum which I love and there is no jumbotron, which while a little odd at first (is there another stadium that doesn't have one?) adds to the old timey intimate aspect of the park. I feel like everything should be in sepia and I ought to be wearing a suit and a fedora.

Bleacher seating appears to be first come first served (I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong), so that explains why we had to be there early. The seats (benches) were four or five rows up in LF. This proved to be a pretty good place to sit since Soriano doesn't pay much attention to the game and instead spends his time interacting with the fans out there. I have to say, I like the guy a lot more now.

I couldn't find any Old Style at the park. This was disturbing. How was I supposed to have a true Chicago Style time without that? My beer that day was instead a mix of Labatt and Bud Light. Depressed by the lack of Old Style, when I had a hot dog in the middle of the game, I put ketchup on it out of spite. Take that Chi-town! Later in my trip I did find and try a Chicago Style hot dog complete with that radioactive neon green relish, which I will begrudgingly admit, I enjoyed.

Wearing my Dodgers hat in the bleachers, I expected to be heckled mercilously. Fortunately, since we had just acquired Manny Ramirez for two bags of yesterday's garbage, nearly all of the comments I got were complimentary. Thank you Manny for preventing someone from pouring a beer on me.

If you read this blog, you're probably a Cubs fan, so you'll know they won 5-1, so I'll just skip the nuts and bolts of the game. Since they won, hundreds of W flags went up in the stands. I thought briefly that George W. Bush may have walked in, but then I remembered its unlikely you could find that many people who still like him.

I wanted a unique souvenir from the game, and I found it in the form of a mildly racist Fukudome kamikaze headband. I can say without hesitation, that it is the finest kamikaze headband I own.

With the game behind us, the Thunderfist crew files over to the Gingerman. Somehow, as the guy who doesn't really know where things are in Chicago, I arrive a good five minutes before anyone else. Here I finally find my Old Style, which while its no Tecate, is certainly adequate for domestic beer.

I must compliment the Cubs on having a fine ballpark. It was a genuine treat to see a game there.

Coming up tomorrow - Stranger in a Strange Land: South Side or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

The Friendly Confines were not so friendly to the no-name Pirates.

Thunderfist According to The Hundley

I suppose I'll chime in first since I was the odd man at Thunderfist. You see, I was the only bartender invited to come to Thunderfist - as long as I didn't go to the game. Okay, not really. I purchased a ticket to Lollapalooza before the Thunderfist seed had even been planted. So my recap will be sparse, as most of time in Chicago that weekend was spent rocking the fuck out, doing bumps of street grade coke, and doing a Wayne's World Chris Farley impression backstage.



I arrived into town Thursday evening to pick up Brant Brown from the airport. Odd, as I had never met Brant. Would he have an overpowering body smell? Would he be That Guy that gets into someone else's vehicle and fidgets with the radio and temperature controls? What if he tried to give me a handjob? Would I tell him to stop, or tell him to wait until I pulled over? Thankfully, none of these things came to fruition and it was not an awkward ride.



Brant and I drove downtown to meet up with Chaim at a Cuban restaurant. We arrived early and ordered some libations and spoke of all things Cubs, European and Asian travel, and beer preference. Finally Chaim and a mystery guest (who wasn't his wife! DUM DUM DUMMM!!) arrived and we sat down to eat. Chaim is some sort of a mobster or connected guy, because he had all sorts of comp'd legal tender, and all the (male) wait staff called him "Sugar". It was a truly delicious and decadent meal, and my respect for Chaim soared. From there, I dropped off Brant at Chaim's lair and tried to find a parking spot for an hour. Pissed, I just went home.



I missed all of Friday's AM stuff, and met the TMS Barkeeps at the Official Party Site of Thunderfist - Baby Atlas. Again, Chaim seemed to know someone or had compromising pictures of them. There was no cover charge, and there was free booze. Always a day late and a buck short, I arrived just as the free booze was shut off. Nice. I was pretty intoxicated, but here's what I recall:



- I saw Chaim as I arrived. He was decked out in a light blue "Old Money" Cuban-style shirt, slumping in the corner, obviously drunk. When I greeted him with a Thunderfist Salute, he warned me that some of the other TMS bartenders were pretty drunk. Riiight, Chaim.



- Finally met Daft Funk and Gray Davis. Daft was the life of the place. Mingling like the So-Cal socialite that he is, we had some great conversations and he worked "j/o" into more than a few yarns. Gray Davis though, I shook his hand and he left. I thought it was me until I heard it had something to do about getting back to the hotel and j/o'ing. Yo, that's what I heard.



- Brant and Dave Thomas were handling themselves well. As is well known in The Saloon, Dave Thomas is a cybernetic organism that can outdrink Andre The Giant tenfold.



- Curiously absent was Chip Wesley. I was told he was removed for obnoxious behavior. Oh, Chip! Say it ain't so!



- The bartender at Baby Atlas was a Grade A douche. If you like bartenders that announce the next song to be played on an iPod, and give you a rundown on them, then head to Baby Atlas. Dude also danced around while he poured drinks. G-A-Y.



That was all I saw of them and that was my Thunderfist Experience. Sorry to bore you with that one, I'm sure the rest of the staff will have much better stories. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to think back at how awesome Rage Against The Machine was, and maybe j/o. Love ya! BFF LOL!!!

THUNDERFIST 2008 RECAP: Quick And Dirty (Like Your Mother)

"One Of The Many Stops At Thunderfist"

What a fantastic weekend we just had. Many thanks to Lingering Bursitis for taking over the Saloon and making us all remember that while we may know the English language, most of us don't understand the "English language".

But now that Thunderfist 2008 is over, things are going back to normal here at TMS, or as close to "normal" as any of us can really claim to be.

I take it you all want details, right? Surely something as breathtaking and groundbreaking as Thunderfist cannot be contained in one post. So keep checking back over the next few days/weeks and our recaps will be up to explain all the gory details.

So if I'm not spilling the beans on 'Fist 2008, why the post? Glad you asked. When something goes as well as Thunderfist did, a lot of things contribute to it, so I'd like to take a moment and hand out a few "Thank you's".

• Special thanks to all of the TMS fans that came out after the game to party like rock stars, as the kids would say today. We're sorry we didn't get to meet the hundreds of you that showed up before we were kicked out due to going over building capacity, but I did hear that Chaim did give out many a sexual favor in the bathroom before the evening was up.*
• Thanks to Ted Lilly for hopping behind the bar at Gingerman's and doling out shots to all the single women in the bar.*
• A big gracias to the Cubs for winning the game and playing much better than the dreadful Friday game that may have been the most boring game of all time.
• Thanks to the entire cast and crew of Delta Force, as well as Jackie Treehorn.
• Thanks to Rick Coleman.

Confused? You won't be once we unleash the full force of Thunderfist recaps. Trust me.

I'd like to give a special thank you to the guy in this picture:

*May not have actually happened.

Thunderfist Meetup

As Chip Wesley made known yesterday, the bartenders and assorted spouses and friends will descend upon the Gingerman Tavern immediately following the game on Saturday. In order to judge how truly weak TMS's following is amongst the general public, we have decided to buy a beer for each of the first five readers that introduce themselves at the Gingerman.

To redeem your beer, simply print this ticket and hand it to a TMS bartender upon your arrival. Then you will be subjected to two tasks in order to prove your valor. You must 1) match two of us to our Bartender name, and 2) name at least five War Criminals and why we hate them. If you are successful, the free beer is yours.

Thunderfist 2008

Ladies and gentlemen, Thunderfist is upon us. The single greatest event in the history of Thunder Matt's Saloon, nay the City of Chicago. In order to help you understand the what, where, when, how, and duh, I've compiled an informative FAQ for you folks as a means to better understand what Thunderfist entails and how you should prepare for this debacle.

So what the hell is Thunderfist anyway?
Thunderfist 2008 is the largest single gathering of TMS Bartenders in one place to date. 7 of the 8 main bartenders plus Tommy Buzanis plan to descend upon the Windy City. Shenanigans will be afoot. Beers will be drank, manhoods will be questioned, and Buzanis says his yacht, the 'Orifice Penetrator' will be "locked and loaded". I don't even know what that means but OK.

7 of 8 plus Buzanis? Can we get a roll call here?
Sure, Chaim Witz and Dave Thomas will represent the Chicagoans. The Hundley and myself will be proudly carrying the flag of Iowa. Brant Brown and the Governor will escape from behind the Orange Curtain, and due to the rousing success of our "Bring Funk to Chicago" pledge drive, Daft Funk will be coming in from San Diego. Buzanis of course will be hailing from an Applebees in Lombard.

What's the agenda of Thunderfist?
Well the festivities will kick off on Friday evening with a party at Chaim Witz's humble abode where we will dine on "Chicago Style" hot dogs and various alcoholic beverages. An argument about ketchup will surely unfold. Buzanis will ask for a plunger on at least two occasions, one of which will not even involve the toilet. Bartender Dave Thomas will make us all feel uncomfortable by having his shirt unbuttoned far too much.

After Chaim's, the party will adjourn to Baby Atlas where the PBR will flow like wine. At this point things will surely unravel. Chaim will have the DJ play his mixtape he made, which will consist of nothing but Phil Collins and the Spin Doctors. I will probably blackout and pour a beer on someone, perhaps myself. Buzanis will regale people with stories about his tour in 'Nam, but in reality his "tour" was 8 years ago and involved him searching for an underground child prostitution ring that Gary Glitter once told him about.

On Saturday, the crew will attend the Cubs vs. Pirates and sit in the bleachers. Heckles will be tossed about, Old Styles will get warm and inevitably spilled, Chaim's brother will be made fun of for being an honest to God Pirates fan, and in a bout of drunken confusion a "Thunder Matt" chant will likely be started.

After the game we will be heading to the Gingerman for after-game libations. Things will then turn into a battle of wills, determination and stamina as we forge ahead in an alcohol-soaked afternoon of mayhem. Over/under for number of folks cashing out by 5pm is currently 2.5.

This all sounds fabulous, can I join you and have the honor of buying a round of beers?

Sure, while Chaim's party and Baby Atlas will be private gatherings you're more than welcome to find us at the game or at Gingerman afterwards. We'll be the drunk guys wearing the Cubs paraphernalia. Honestly I'm not sure how you would spot us. My only recommendation is to randomly shout "THUNDER MATT!" at Gingerman or in the bleachers and see if one of us acknowledges. To help narrow the search, we probably will be sitting in left field (pouring out a little Old Style in memory of Murton).

Seriously though, by all means try to find us. We'd love to talk to some of our readers, if only to verify our writing can appeal to readers that are in fact not mentally challenged.

So who's NOT going to be at Thunderfist?
Lingering Bursitis will be the only one not attending, although The Hundley will be in limited attendance due to him really being in Chicago for Lollapalooza. The likelihood of TMS turning Limey by our English bartender is high. Prepare for a weekend's worth of posts about Scotch eggs and soccer while we're away.


Shit, Lollapalooza is going on too?
Yes, we had talks with Perry Farrell to postpone Lollapalooza to a later date but to no avail. Whether or not Chicago can withstand this much awesomeness in one weekend is unknown. There is also an issue with Buzanis being in town the same time as G. Love and Special Sauce since a restraining order was put against him by the band after a 1999 incident involving a drunk Tommy rushing the stage and attempting to play air guitar and sing "Cold Beverages".

Also apparently the Warped Tour is in town as well. This was planned so the large influx of emotards would neutralize the amount of testosterone Thunderfist will bring.


So brace for the worst Chicago. It's gonna get rowdier than "free cocksock night" at a Boystown bar.

Here are some artist's renderings of what Thunderfist may look like.

Feel free to check out our commemorative Thunderfist 2008 t-shirt at the Saloon Store.