Jay Glazer, not a fan of Kentucky

Some of you may recall that the Fanhouse did a post at the end of last week on FoxSports.com writer and New York asshole Jay Glazer ripping the training camp site of the Bengals - Georgetown, Kentucky. Fox News pulled it down pretty fast, seeing as Glazer basically just took the entire city to the wood shed when he was supposed to be writing about the Bengals. Luckily, we managed to track down the complete article. It was entitled "Kentucky's the Pits." And man, I don't know how this thing appeared on a major sports news site. It's like our rants of the week, except on a legitimate (well, that may be giving Fox too much credit) news site. So here's Jay after the break.

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Kentucky's the Pits

Yes, it's not a typo, I'm in Kentucky: They said I'd never, ever step foot in Georgetown. I've often joked around that I would never go, being that I'm an ethnic Yawka and I'd stick out worse than Joe Pesci would, or actually did, in "My Cousin Vinny." I mean, I'm a complete dead giveaway for someone who, well, isn't from Kentucky.

Just as the folks from small towns like this have certain preconceived notions about the Big Apple and loud, arrogant, obnoxious, aggressive folks like myself, I've seen things on TV about how city boys and hillbillies don't exactly mix.

Sorry, Georgetown but there was nothing to change my view in the least.

First of all, it's in a dry county. Why is there anywhere in America that is dry? Let's get real people. Not selling alcohol in one area is the dumbest thing in the world. You know what it does? It forces you to travel long distances to the next county to get drunk and then drive aaaaalllll the way back to Georgetown. How stupid is this rule? It also leads to the freaking hillbilly who was selling moonshine out of the back of his truck. Did I just say moonshine? Did I just say hillbilly? Folks, I'm not making this stuff up.

There are actually people who still sell moonshine in Kentucky and there was a guy giving it out from the back of his pickup the weekend I was there.

How do I say this gracefully and without half of Kentucky wanting to hang me by my you know whats? Let's be honest, parts of Kentucky don't exactly have a reputation for hording the members of MENSA or the contestants for the National Spelling Bee. With that in mind, I'm begging the folks in the Georgetown area to hire a full-time scout to walk around the town and correct grammar and spelling in order to dispel the myths.

The two best signs in America are both in Georgetown. First one hung in a WalMart that read, "All movies needs to be pay in electronics." Huh? You is a honor student? Didn't, oh, I don't know, ONE PERSON realize that sentence simply isn't English?

Then, I didn't see this sign but I heard about it, the local Wendy's originally had their big sign out front say, "Now hiring closers." However, the "c" in closers fell off so for a while Wendy's was "Now hiring losers."

Nice.

Worst bar I've been to on the road: The Pub in Lexington, Ky. I've written about places I've loved but I have to give both sides of it. A few Bengals friends and I drove down to Lexington on a Sunday evening to find a few beers and arrived at The Pub in Lexington at 10:30. We were immediately informed that we could only get one round because as the waitress explained, "The police will come in and grab them right off your table at 11 p.m. sharp."

Are you kidding me? That's what the police spend their time on in this town? Are they chasing around bootleggers in old Studebakers? Can you imagine that?

Anyway, back to the waitress and her 11 p.m. cutoff. Last I checked I'm good for a little over a beer in a half hour. Last call? Fine, everyone in my party will have three drinks each and we'll have them polished off at 10:55. Guaranteed!

The waitress, bartender and manager all panicked over this idea as if Elliott Ness would raid the place at any minute. Come on people, we're all adults here. We're talking three lousy beers.

That wasn't the bad part, though. The manager, a total Doogie Howser-looking goober, walked over and the following is the actual conversation that ensued:

Goober Pyle, Manager Extraordinaire: "I understand you ordered three rounds but we can't do that because all alcohol has to be finished by 11."

Aggressive New Yawka Glaze: "That's OK buddy, we'll have them finished off for you, no problem."

Goober Pyle, Manager Extraordinaire: "We can't do that, the police will take them out of your hands. I'm sorry."

Aggressive New Yawka Glaze: "It's OK, I'm willing to do the time."

Goober Pyle, Manager Extraordinaire: "Sorry, it's not going to happen. I can only give you one. We're only looking out for your best interests."

Are you kidding me? This is where I got a little... frustrated shall I say.

Aggressive New Yawka Glaze: "Doogie, you want to protect my best interests, get me a **** 401K plan! Don't let me buy a dog from Bad Newz Kennels but don't tell me you're going to play drink police."

Goober Pyle, Manager Extraordinaire: "It's for your own safety, sir."

Aggressive New Yawka Glaze: "I'm so lucky to have a guardian angel like you at my side. Seriously, where were you when I fell out of that tree house when I was 8, or the time I got my *** choked out in the Octagon or the or the time I took a blow torch in high school and cut off the roof of my car so I could have a convertible. Thank you so much oh Hillbilly guardian."

Goober Pyle, Manger Extraordinaire: "(Blank look)"

The best part of it was we had to drive another 20 minutes to find another place to drink and the waitress from The Pub actually found us there and wanted to sit and drink with us. Let's get this straight, you refuse to serve us and then want to sit and have drinks with us? Aggressive New Yawka Glaze made that the most uncomfortable five minutes of conversation she's spent in a bar in a long, long time.

That night was the longest five years I've spent at one place in my life.