The owner of the best bar in New York City is a dufus. The owner of the worst bar in New York City is also a dufus. Bar owners are dufuses (izat the plurual of dufus?). Now I know you might like to tell me not to generalize, but Robert Frost covered that a long a time ago, when he said something along the lines of "don’t tell me not to generalize." Actually, if you know me I’m kinda against generalizations. But, oh well.

I don’t know why bar owners are dufuses, but they are. It’s a funny (ha, ha) business. Basically you’re lifting peeps up by the ankles turning them upsidedown and picking up everything that drops outta their pockets. It’s a good business.

It doesn’t really make that much of a difference what the bar is like, they all work. I was in a bar the other day that had a sign up that said, "your village called, they want their idiot back." Yeah, stupid, but guess what I was drinking in that bar.

The bar I’m writing about here, the best bar in New York City, works, but it is also somethinc else. It is beautiful. Why, when it is run by a doofus (wait a minute, that’s how you spell doofus), is a profound question. Or not.

You’ve often heard the expression (you’ve often heard the expression, "you’ve often heard the expression") geography is destiny. That’s because it is. It really is. Go to Australia. Everybody’s pretty relaxed there. It’s because the sun, the sand, the ocean ... is in your backyard. Go to Sweden, where winters last as long as the jowls on Cheney’s downward mutton face. The Swedes’ serotonin has a tendency to skedaddle (never knew skedaddle has an "e", thanks spell cheek) to the nether reaches, um never to be reached.

This beautiful bar is somehow placed in a place both where it is, its location, a street very singular, just sorta cool, in the middle of a cool neighborhood (happens to be mine, uh, btw), but by being in the middle of a cool nabe, being alone in a cool nabe, inside the hot burning out edges of cool that are changing faster than a Mitt Romney campaign theme and ... how it’s placed in its place, you have to go down, sorta basement level, to get to it, that this double geography of destiny produces a tremendous fun sway before anything is even done to the place (for example by a doofus).

But what was done to the place, and maybe by the doofus, but I doubt it, I sense a girl somewhere along in this, a beautiful girl, maybe the doofus was dating her, it’s possible, beautiful girls have been known to date doofuses, on more than one occasion ... what was done to the place is also beautiful. It’s red in there. A subtle red. The red that forms the essence of the property, Glow. It is a very cool place. Very cool people are there. ‘Cept of course the owner.