In Condemnation Of White Sox Dave

In an effort to not let things get too cozy around here, I am back this week to go in the complete opposite direction of the blog I penned earlier this week about Rico Bosco. I am coming straight for the head of that raccoon mutant, White Sox Dave, and his brand new hair that he refuses to let out of the house that is the hat he wears every day. 

One of my absolute favorite things to do here is the Dog Walk Draft. I truly enjoy all of the Chicago guys (even that mouth breather) so getting to spend time with them is always a delight. Add in the fact that the draft is a fun way to think about the most random topics and I come away with a smile from my face following my last pick, even when WSD decides to nip at my ankles. 

I recommend watching the entire draft, but my pick that got the juices flowing in the "Things Worth Overpaying For" draft was steak. I contend that even though I can buy a steak at my local butcher and throw it on my grill, I find it is worth it to go to a upscale steakhouse and allow the professionals to sear one for me despite the 300% markup. The premium cuts they have are less available to the average joe, more expensive for me to get my hands on, and they have the ability to store them properly. Add in the ambiance and service at the restaurant and we are in for a nice meal. 

Unless of course, you are a raccoon who prefers eating from the garbage. 

According to WSD, that was a bad pick because he can do it "almost as good" by himself so why overpay for it? Uhhh, 

I contend that if you RUN YOUR STEAK UNDER WATER it will be significantly less tasty than the steak I pay $100 for at Keens. Let me say that again for those who are not sure about what they just watched. When Dave cooks his steak at home, he then runs it under water rendering it inedible for anyone this side of hungry. It behooves anyone looking for a nice steak dinner in Chicago to avoid Dave's house like the plague and just go overpay for that meal at Gibsons. 

Can you imagine going over to dinner at Dave's house? You sit down to a table without a tablecloth, paper plates, plastic utensils, no napkins, a $5 bottle of wine that was under his sink for 6 months (collecting cleaning fumes) he plans to serve you in a solo cup; you're trepidatious but you think, "well, at least he is making steaks" only to see him fire up his faucet and drown your porterhouse like he's waterboarding it at a CIA black site to find out where the WMDs are hiding.  

Christ almighty. I am flabbergasted. This guy attacks my pick all the while he regularly ruins his steaks. Just another misstep in the misadventures of the Raccoon Boy.