The sun shined just a little brighter today as a smoky aroma wafted through the air and tickled my nostrils. It was a glorious day in Wilmington, and not because I wasn't accosted by bandits. The abandoned shell of Kahunaville burned in what only can be described as an act of divine vengeance. Glorious.

Kahunaville was a strange place. What started as an Hawaiian themed restaurant, bar and arcade slowly morphed into a restaurant, concert venue and white-trash magnet. But it wasn't the fun-loving, PBR drinking white trash element that frequented Kahunaville. The place was infested with every pathetic, chin-strap beard, neck tattoo wannabe tough-guy in the tri-state area. I swear, they must have bussed these fuckers in from South Jersey and Bear. Now next to these bastards were the morons that either came to hear a lame-ass coverband or an real band on one of the many Kahunaville stages. Ahh, nothing like lubricating that water with some oil. 

I only had a good time there once, but that's because David Lee Roth gyrated a mere fifty feet from where I stood. Other than DLR, the place did attract some higher end acts like Green Day, The Allman Brothers and Kenny Wayne Shepard (damn you Scott Thompson!) Wait! I did enjoy harassing Silvertide in the parking lot on another occasion, so put me down for two good times.
 
Other than the occasional concert, Kahunaville was only good for faggotty-ass coverbands (you know who you are) and upstaging the landfill down the road in terms of trash per square foot.
 
Good riddance, I guess all those prayers to Milton, patron saint of fiery vengeance paid off.

Only one spectacle is cheesy enough to salute Kahunaville's fiery swan song. THIS!