Red Rockin' Chicken Fingers

What the fuck is it with Saint Louis and Sammy Hagar? Growing up, Hagar would have released an album of farts and every rock fan in St. Louis would have eaten it up. I don’t understand the connection, but it’s apparently great enough that Hagar has now opened a fucking restaurant there.
You know, I’m all for musicians expanding into new ventures, provided that…like their own creative outlets…they have something to say. Let’s consider the remote possibility that Hagar cooked a mean fish taco or is renowned for dishing up some of the local flair down in Cabo. Sure, it would be perfectly acceptable then, for him to bring a creation or two and spin off a restaurant in the process.
But no, judging from the menu at Sammy’s Beach Bar and Grill, the only thing he’s doing is relocating a few chef’s to some location at Harrah’s in St. Louis and having them whip up a plate of hot wings, chicken fingers, and a fucking hamburger.
Oh yeah, you can get a margarita made from Sammy’s overpriced tequila if you want.
I love the gentle, out-of-focus picture of Sammy walking along the beach on the menu. It’s kind of like the gentle, out-of-focus records he’s been putting out over the years.