’nuff said.

Scruffy City Hall: It’s not just for drunken Vikings anymore.

Nor is it just for Rawk shows, nor just for drinking quality craft beer. Though with 40 draught selections combined across the first- and second-floor taps, enjoying a cold one is always a pretty good idea; it’s the perfect complement to anything you’d care to do at SCH. We’ll even call the cab when you’re ready to ride home.

No, but what I’m really driving at here is that Scruffy City Hall has begun to scratch the surface of its potential as an incredibly versatile multi-media entertainment venue, specifically as regards the nearly theater-sized movie screen and state-of-the-art audio-visual system in the main room. In case you missed it, SCH recently hosted the Knoxville Film and Music Festival, showcasing premieres and presentations from a number of fine filmmakers and films. Some South Park producers were there, for a showing of the making-of documentary 6 Days to Air, as was Heavy Metal Parking Lot director Jeff Krulik, for the rollout of his latest soon-to-be-cult-classic Led Zeppelin Played Here.

There have also been a number of specialty film nights—Scruffy Cinepub; fright-night horror movie specials; a Pridefest mini-festival—as well as some showcase TV. Looking for a place to watch the Sunday night schemings and intrigues of the Game of Thrones crew? Look no further, my friend. This is the place to be.

Which brings us to our present subject, a little matter of soccer. Or more precisely, 2014 FIFA World Cup soccer.

Now, I’m gonna be frank here. I really hate me some soccer. And when I say that, please understand that I’m not that guy. And you know whom I’m talking about—the meathead football fan who thinks soccer’s for sissies and knows nothing about the game. In the interest of full disclosure, I played soccer, for several seasons back in my coming-of-age years, in high school and in AYSO before it. And by and large I enjoyed my playing years, notwithstanding a broken schnoz.

But when it comes to soccer as a spectator sport… well, I’d just as soon watch weevils mate. If you ask me, there’s something inherently wrong with a game where only two guys on the field are allowed to use the one physical tool that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. And where there’s a rule against actually trying to score.

Soccer is a lot like masturbation. It’s a pretty good time, but I don’t wanna watch you do it.

This picture: Just because it’s awesome.

But I understand that I am in a minority here. The World Cup is all the rage now, and everyone—including our Benefactors at Scruffy City and Preservation Pub—is caught up in the mania of FIFA in Brazil. And for those of you so inclined, many of the World Cup matches—most especially those involving the good ol’ U.S. of A.—are playing now at Scruffy City on the big screen in hi def.

That’s right—at Scuffy City Hall, you can now follow guys named Pablo and Carlos and Franz in life-sized full color as they dribble and flop all over one of those gigantic overly-manicured South American potato patches known as “soccer fields.”

So if you are interested in watching FIFA on the SCH big-screen, please inquire as to the sked next time you’re in town. The beer will flow; no one will score; and the refs will make calls so atrociously bad that even blind people will complain. But that is the way of it all. Vive le futbol! Or some damn thing.