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Club Review February 23, 2007
 
Katz ‘n Karma
By Hannah Katz Browse author
 
 

So. Like, normally, the eXile has a policy of not reviewing old clubs. As you probably recall, I haven't been living out here on the boondocks of the civilized world like most the fat, greasy and horny dudes that are reading this column. I came around not so long ago and so - guess what? - every freakin' place was new to me!

Initially, that's how I wanted to write my column... to try out the new options once in a while, but stick to the old perennial favorites and tell it from a Katz perspective. Ames would have none of it. But like I said the eXile and I haven't been seeing eye-to-eye lately. So I decided to stick it to them, but this time it was an inspired sort of sticking and not the usual mechanical kind...

See I'm a big fan of Jung and way fuckin' into his synchronicity theory, you know that everything's related and inter-connected. And last week, a Russian chick I started chatting with while waiting in line to the bathroom at Oktyabr mentioned that she was going to KARMA BAR. That was on my way into the movie. On my way out, while standing in the same damn bathroom line, I bump into the PR girl from Karma Bar. Upon learning who I was and that I had never been, she invited me to come. It wasn't coincidence, it was synchronicity.

The only dilemma was who to bring. I've been getting sick of hanging with my two indie sweethearts and besides, I've gotten fed up with using a dildo. I needed a real man. So I called up Mike. The guy couldn't dance for shit, no matter how much booze was in him. But at least that wasn't the case with his prick. The thing was infallible. Nothing could put it down. Not booze, pills or blo. Really, he's an amazing specimen.

Anyway, Mike and I split a bottle of some California red wine in the back seat of his Land Rover as his driver took a nice long tour along the Moskva River and finally delivered us to the place at around 11PM. We were on the list and were whisked through security.

As I was told, their salsa night was swinging. A bunch of professional-style Latin dance enthusiasts were ripping up the dance floor and a bunch of single Russian sluts eager for some action stood looking on. There was a general lack of the "man presence" and I felt possible trouble brewing ahead.

There was no way we were gonna go out on the dance floor as long as the Latin shit was going on, so we plopped down in the VIP room and gorged ourselves on comped booze and food. I can't tell you how much it cost, but the sushi rolls and the kalyan we ordered really hit the spot. Yeah, that's right, we had sushi AND kalyan. Together.

We got nice and shitty and decided to head out onto the dance floor and - Jesus! - I was amazed! While Mike and I were tucked away in the VIP area, the place had flooded with hordes upon hordes of single desperate chicks right off their elekrichkas. When we got onto the dance floor, all them seemed to notice Mike as if they were a pack of Dawn of the Dead zombies. Except they weren't interested in brains - they were ravenous for cock.

We tried dancing. But after half an hour, I couldn't handle peeling the chicks off him any longer. It would've been bearable if at least some of these chicks were into lesbo action, but no, all of them wanted cock and only cock. In that kind of atmosphere, it was obvious that getting laid for a guy was no problem. Getting laid for a girl was another amtter...

Dudes, all I can say is that if you come, you will come. You should come. I came too, in the back of a Land Rover.

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Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
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The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
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Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...

 
 
 

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