shambles p.i. -- the messed up in more ways than one edition

I like to live life with no regrets, which is why I think a lot. Perhaps too much. But making a bad choice can really put a damper on your life. Some decisions are much easier to make than others. For instance, let's say you're at a party and someone hands you that dangerous third can of Sparks. Do you pop it open, chug it down and probably then proceed to get pregnant/arrested/pregnant & arrested? Or do you put it down, kindly say "No thank you!" and go about your business of not being pregnant/arrested/pregnant & arrested? Easy choice.

But nothing makes for an easier choice than passing by a nightclub with a most questionable name to decide what's best for your future. Meet Club Choices:

If ever there was an easier choice to be made, I have yet to meet it.

The Law and I noticed Choices while walking past it on our way to the Claire Hux after party. Not only did we immediately burst into boozey laughter, but so did a friend of ours who lives in Baltimore. I believe he immediately followed with, "Yeah, you don't ever want to go there."

Seriously, I don't think I've ever run across a worse name for a bar in my life and I used to frequent a bar in Moscow called The Modest Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Skromnoye Oboyaniye Burzhuazi). That's a terribly sh*tty name, but it doesn't come close to that of "Choices."

I mean, really, what the hell kind of name is that? It reminds me of abortion, which doesn't seem like a term one would associate with getting the party started. However, I guess if you do make that bad decision to crack open that third, fourth or, heart-exploding fifth can of Sparks, perhaps this is the club for you. (Mid-morning abortion joke! You're welcome.)

But speaking of exceptionally messed up sh*t, a reader spotted the following scary signage (scarier than Choices, even) on the corner of 14th and Independence around 10:15 this morning.


You know, I don't so much FEAR GOD as I, say, FEAR THE PSYCHO who tacked this incredibly ridiculous sign up in his vehicle for actual other human beings to see. Bad choice, sir (or ma'am). And I'm not even solely just talking about the ideas put forth in this very bland looking sign, but also the grammar.

The first sentence is fine -- non-sensical, of course, but grammatically correct. The second sentence, though? Someone's not smarter than a fifth grader (nor as artistic as a kintergartener, I might add). "THE ABOMINATION OF DESOLATION IN THE HOLY PLACE." This sentence fragment is quite possibly more confounding than naming a club Choices. I mean, where's the verb? And what in hell does "ABOMINATION OF DESOLATION" mean? Like to ruin something that's already kind of ruined? I don't get it. Like, does this ugly sign count as "abomination of desolation" if "desolation" means his sh*tty sedan? And this "IN THE HOLY PLACE" business. That unintentionally sounds kind of sexy, no? (Yes!)

Someone get this "God-fearing" man (or lady) a six-pack of Sparks and bring him (or her) to Choices. Someone's getting pregnant/arrested/pregnant & arrested!