I read with interest the article "Historic Bar Destroyed in Supers Fight" (9/16/11). Seeing as how I was one of the two "Supers" involved in the incident, I would like to clear up some misconceptions and shortcomings from that article.
The introductory paragraph is mostly correct, though you had one really bad !@#$ mistake. The Black Rat of Armagh was founded in 1945, when its founder was Section Eighted out of the armed services. 1952 was simply the year that that same man was found guilty of a gruesome and sickening murder on the premises.
The business then fell to his eldest son, who purportedly saw no reason to rehabilitate the business. The echoes of that horrible deed went on give the establishment a unique color for the remaining 59 years of its existence. 59 years that ended far too soon, the other night.
Right here is about where your !@#$ article falls apart like the cheap suits your sorry-!@#$ reporters tend to wear to press conferences.
First off, bartender Charles "Dog!@#$" McKenzie was not killed during the fight. He was as good as dead probably ten minutes before it started, as that nasty metal !@#$ Moloch picked him up, put him inside his brass ribcage, and ignited him.
Secondly, he wasn't 48. He was actually 55 but constantly lied about his age to attempt to pick up women, unsuccessfully I might add. SPYGOD knows all.
Thirdly, we didn't blow up the building while we were fighting. He caught it on fire with his first shot at me, and, after I ducked and jumped through a window, he crashed after me. Then we started to actually fight while it burned down behind us.
I wish your pencil-necked geek !@#$ of a reporter could have seen that fight, too. The monster had it coming since the last time I saw him, and this time I was prepared. Oh was I ever.
And I know you're reading this, you brass !@#$. Did you like those liquid nitrogen bombs I shoved up your !@#$ when you thought you were going to stomp me flat? I bet you did. You screamed like a greenhorn at a late 70's backroom !@#$-buster contest, and oh was I so happy to hear it.
Your reporter was correct that he teleported away. He did not catch my meaning when I said "again," though. This Moloch is clearly a coward who thinks he can sneak up on me when I'm trying to have a civilized drink in an uncivilized place, and then runs when he finds out this cat's got claws.
You and me, !@#$stick. One week from when they print this letter. 50'30 by 19'30. You weasel out of it and I will hound you from one side of the planet to the other, and no one will dare hide you for fear of what I'll do to them.
One more note: it is true that many of the neighborhoods the Black Rat squatted in over those 59 years were dragged down by its presence, and many who lived in those places were not at all unhappy to see it go. But I say !@#$ them. For almost 60 years, the NYPD has known exactly where to go to roust the sleaziest of scofflaws and ne'er-do-wells. Consider it to have been a strange kind of public service; flypaper for the criminal element, as it were.
It was sleazy and grungy. The lights burned out one by one and were never replaced, the tables had so many stains they looked like a Warhol-inspired art project, and the men's bathroom was worse than the POW camp the North Koreans threw me in that one time. But you knew what you were getting the moment you stepped in and smelled the air, and some of us actually liked it that way. You could drink in complete peace, knowing that no one would dare disturb you.
For someone like myself, that was heaven, and we lost a slice of it the other night.
ps: "I read with interest" is just shorthand for "Get your !@#$ facts straight, you worthless !@#$ hack."
(SPYGOD is listening to Sunday Papers (Joe Jackson) and drinking something really !@#$ cold)