Chicken John, owner of the Odeon Bar, how do we love/hate thee? Let us count the ways. You work your ass off to provide the city's most ridiculous performers with a place to feel at home, thus spurring them on to further flights of creative fancy. Yet you give us shit if we write about it too much, or in the wrong way. Do you not know there's no such thing as bad publicity? We also love Mr. John for his boundless energy, his seat-of-his-pants can-do attitude, and for the giant butt affixed to the wall of his bar. We love the way he and his motley crew write "Tonight: Tom Waits" on the marquee solely in order to laugh at the people skittering in through the door yelling, "Really!?" "Sure," sez Chicken. "Can't ya hear we got Mule Variations on the CD player? Siddown, have a frickin' drink. Y'look like you could use one." And we hate him for ... wait, we don't really hate him.