Call to Arms

Recently this rapscallion, Robert Peyton, has used the Internet to publish outlandish, salacious, and dangerous rumors about the crew behind this noble journalistic institution. Obviously Mr. Peyton did not read the "Terms of Use" Contract which controls the entire Internet. If he did, he would remember that the only information which can be posted on the world wide web must be 100% accurate and/or absolutely true.

Perhaps one of us assualted Mr. Peyton with a knife, but neither of us are Turks. Peter could be Armenian, but Peter is still awaiting the gynecological survey he requested from the Mormons, or something like that.

Indeed, the Blackened Out Crew and Fan will dine at Stella. Mr. Peyton and his cohorts have chosen to dine across town at Iris on the evening of July 17th. Perhaps it is the prospect of fun, hilarity, bonhomie, and general tomfoolery that they seek to avoid. Or perhaps they need a more secluded spot to plan their impending retirements. Regardless, the editors of this stalwart and our crew of merry eaters issue the following statement to Mr. Peyton:

Please meet us at a place of mutual convenience following your gustatory celebration so that we may duel on the neutral ground. We will take the streetcar towards your restaurant and your gang of misfits is instructed to take the streetcar towards the Quarter. We shall meet at Fat Harry's. You, sir, may choose the weapon. Choose wisely, and remember Blackened Out would never bring a knife to a gun fight.

Signed,
The Blackened Out Armenian (perhaps) and Frog