Last Minute New Year's Eve

If you’re anything like the rest of us around here you already know what doing on New Year’s Eve: Drinking. That doesn’t mean you know Where you’re drinking, just that you’ll be drinking somewhere. There are many ways to drink away the last night of the year, and below is a variety of last minute ideas to get you into 2010. (Sorry north, south and east Knoxville) Who knows, maybe we can all get together for that drink we’ve been talking about? Uh, no, I’ll be staying home watching the Vols and drinking bourbon. Feel free to comment on your plans or other options. Thanks to everyone for stopping by to check us out throughout the year. Here’s to more fun in 2010, cheers!

Downtown/Market Sq.
Club Le Conte – Society Only
Downtown Grill & Brewery – The rest of us
Le Parigo - Wonder if the duck was shipped in from Alsace?
Preservation Pub – Tiki party
Valarium & Cider House – VooDoo NY10 with downtown Hilton hotel package

The Old City
Barley’s Taproom – The usual, live music and good beer selection
Patrick Sullivan’s – Live music and the bar is open
The Crown & Goose – The Old City’s fanciest gastropub!
The Melting Pot – Someone tell Tony there’s a reservation on line 2.

The Strip
BAR Knoxville – Er, maybe not?
Tin Roof – UT Basketball, UT Football. Let’s face it, there’s no way you’re sober at midnight.
Level 10 – Short West

West Knoxville
Baker Peters Jazz Club – Damn that chicken entrée sounds delicious
Northshore Brasserie – Everything looks delicious
Paul’s Oasis – WTF
Ray’s ESG – Scarlett O’Harlot, where are you?

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 11.0

Er...or the small screen in this case. Hey, and look here now-it's a woman this time. I give you:



Sue Ellen Ewing, Dallas socialite and dysfunctional alkie. Glug-glug.

Strengths: Vengeful bitch, partial owner of Ewing Oil, powerful liver

Weaknesses: Pisses her pants around JR, repeatedly.

During the late 70's and through the decade of excess known as the 80's many viewing starved Americans gathered round the old teevee and vegged out on some quality primetime soap operas. First among equals, Dallas was the place to be for my parents and their age group that didn't roll into the dungheaps of local bars. I don't remember everything about this program, but my mother would whip my ass if I talked outside a commerical break.

Anyhoo, Sue Ellen (as any viewer could tell you) dealt with her abusive and straying bastard of a husband JR by drinking anything shy of paint thinner. Though purists and fans will tell you she only became an dreaded alkie during the show's run, my much more awesome recollection puts her squarely in the back of iconic Southfork:






Soused 24/7 often rolling about in a nightgown-in the grass, falling in the pool, flipping cowshit, etc. That's the gist. Numerous intriques, business fuckery, petrowarfare, and animal husbandry all seemed secondary to Sue Ellen's emotional minefield of suspicion and abuse. Mark well this exchange in the famous who-shot-Jr arc:

Yes, quite the reasonable response indeed. These two have more horns on their heads than irradiated cattle and it makes for great tension. Continuing in this vein, JR uses his parents(who must have sinned terribly in their previous lives) to kick her ass.


Classic. High fucking drama for 1981. Or 1982. Those days tend to blur. JR goes on to tell our stoic and sauced heroine something along the lines of her being a terrible mother and a drunk. Everything else goes nuclear when he further threatens to send her to the booby hatch. If you look closely, JR does this scene with piece of bacon in his hand.

The fact that Sue Ellen was not in fact JR's assailant is a bona fide miracle. We can only point out that her self-destructive boozing prevented a coherent premeditated murder, which in and of itself is pretty odd on this program. Dallas was sorta confusing.

Guess Who's Back

Back again. Rocka’s back. Ok, that’s enough Eminem forever.


Lt. Rocka is back with Episode XIII, only eight months after episode XII debuted in March. Wow, that’s the kind of productivity we can relate to. Follow the link to download his unique blend of indie music, college radio, mash ups, and occasional words of wisdom. Enjoy this one on us, Merry Christmas!

1. Animal Collective – Leaf House
2. Medeski Martin and Wood – Let’s Go Everywhere
3. Miike Snow – Animal
4. Noah and the Whale – Blue Skies (Remix)
5. Spoon – Got Nuttin
6. White Denim – Regina Holding Hands
7. Lil Wayne – Banned From TV (Lane Kiffin Puffin Remix)
8. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes – 40 Day Dream
9. Micachu and the Shapes – Golden Phone
10. The Soft Pack – Answer to Yourself
11. E-360 Jackson 5
12. Jackson 5 – Doctor My Eyes
13. Notorious BIG vs Michael Jackson – Rock With You
14. NWA vs The Outfield
15. Oasis – Shock of the Lightning
16. Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Zero
17. Chali 2Na – Comin Thru
18. TV on the Radio – Cryin
19. Phoenix – Listzomania
20. The Knux – Cappucino
21. Super Furry Animals – Inaugural Trams
22. The Strokes – you only live once

Rumor Mill

For weeks I’ve been meaning to generate some idle talk about an Old City grocery that will be opening soon. Distractions aside, the latest update I’ve heard is that things are progressing, though I’ve driven by several times and have yet to see any changes inside or out. The space is somewhere between the costume shop and Hannah’s on Central. Despite not knowing the actual address I have been inside the building with one of the co-owners and it is ideal for the concept he is going for. It’s not going to be any kind of chain or franchise establishment but more of a quaint, neighborhood style mini-grocery that carries staple items and hopefully beer. It will also have a deli menu, a couple of tables and bicycle delivery for limited areas. Of course all of this is subject to change. Keep your eyes open in 2010 for this little gem that just may fill a void that has been dogging downtown for a long time. Good luck!

More Art

Local artist and DK friend/art contributor, MB, has provided these images that I wanted to share with our readers. And by "provided" I mean that I sneaked photos of his artwork and posted them here without his permission. But really, he is responsible for our logo and shield design that is featured on the blog and we hope that he continues to support our drunken efforts. Hey, I know they aren't drink related but isn't there more to life than being drunk all the time. No? Ok. Thanks MB!

Wall St. a.k.a. Graffiti Alley

More wisdom from Knoxville's street artists. Or something. Maybe you can decipher what they mean in the comments...or not.

Stink-O Alert!

Stink-O! Stink-O! Stink-O! It’s time to get stink-o. Tonight, TND via bourbon at my place. This is a call to all DK contributors, past or present, to gather and drink until the drinkin’s done. W.L. Weller requests your presence and attentive liver around 8 pm. Supplies are limited so be prepared to bring more booze or shuffle onward to the bar for backup drinks. That is all.

Monday Hangover

Ugh. It’s been rough the past couple of weeks. Holidays, work, and illness have me down but not out. Only a few more weeks remain in 2009 and if I’m going to make any kind of “go” at enjoying this stressful time of year you can bet that I’m going to drink my way through it. Therefore any unsecured booze, beer and wine that I encounter will have to deal with my liver. Those half-drank bottles of bourbon and vodka at my place: gone by tomorrow (starting tonight). The upcoming company work party: I will perform the “hat trick”, perhaps get fired. House parties and friends’ gatherings: I will cadge your party booze! Plus there will be trips to the liquor store and brewery. I’ve been in a fugue of sobriety for too long and it must stop now.

Douchery

Not certain if that's a proper word, but as a title for this post it's apt.

As a fitting end to DfV, I need to relate some hilarious circumstances that Mackey and I were privy to last evening. Now admittedly, DfV started strong but tapered off towards the last couple of days due to circumstances beyond our control. Shit happens. Fortunately we were able to make a suitable rally last night at The Hill.

The Hill, like many such places, has a challenge for patrons regarding its wing sauce. Nothing new there as I said, but last night was a real gem. Towards the higher end of the Scoville Scale, you will find a nasty little bastard called a Ghost Pepper. This vile nuke is beyond my taste buds, and I'm a hot sauce fanatic in general.

Anyhoo, we are enjoying a tasty meal, cold beverages, and in my case a large glass of delicious bourbon...the bar was not packed by any means, when some young folk at the bar decide to fuck up their evenings completely by participating in the challenge. To be brief, what started as a night of modest drinking ended in a gastro-holocaust for these two. One guy began in earnest, consuming three before breaking out in a sweat, drooling, and eventually puking in a hastily provided trash can. No amount of water, and later-milk- could help. The kitchen staff came out to scorn this well-meaning young man(read: laugh their asses off) before he put his head down in defeat. The kicker is that his friend looked upon this goddamn farce and decided "Hey, I want some of that." Set upon this course, he at least made it to the bathroom before puking all over the damn place. They went down faster than a cheap whore on check day.

Folks, these challenges...from large steaks, to hot sauce consumption...are invitations to defeat. Much like a casino, the house usually wins. These two defeated warriors slinked off with their friends to an evening filled with heartburn, hallucinations, and toilet paper usage. Even now I suspect they still have a 'lava tube' effect going on.

To sum up, these kids(clearly students) probably learned a lesson...and they'll remember that more than any exam or test during finals week. Welcome academic probation!

Efficiency

As in uptight German efficiency, but you know, with beers. Also, the Krauts* are big on revenge so it fits with the season. That's pretty much the end of the correlation though.

We pride ourselves on attaching useless numbers and values to our drinking. For example, we prefer to boat on a craft with a high BPH quotient. What's that? Why Beer-Per-Hour value of course. The performance of the boat itself is meaningless if you can't get drunk in a hurry and remain shitfaced for hours on end. A speedboat that may haul ass is thus useless if it cannot support enough cooler space for the thirsty passengers. Conversely, a lumbering cruiser is useless if it takes too long to get back to dock for more beer** even if it can otherwise maintain a large number of boozers for a set time. A few years back yours truly and venerated compatriot Sweet Tooth tried to knock back the little 8 oz bastards of High Life...thinking that they would get colder faster and not have the lukewarm dregs we all face towards the end of a longneck.

Big. Fucking. Mistake. We went through two full packs of those little bastards before taking the first turn out of the dock. Turn back around, try again. Conversely, drinking tall boys on the lake is also disrecommended. Takes too long, beer gets warm, and the BPH suffers accordingly...to say nothing of how dumb a koozie looks on them.

Back to the last night. We are, of course, mug club members from waaaaaay back. Drinking on Tuesdays at the Brewery is cheap and you get loaded on IPA pints. Add the four ounces extra from the mug and you are getting the best deal in town. That's the truth. You can roll out of there for right at ten bucks(tip them well though) and be quite polluted.

Beerficiency is not a mere matter of ounces though, timing is also key. Every sound drunkard should be aware of specials and where to get soused on the cheap. Turns out that Wednesdays at the Brewery are quite good as well. Two-dollar pints(same as happy hour) for club members. Still the best deal, but the added 50 cents*** reduces the beerficiency accordingly.

Also timing is key. A new club member these days will have to wait for the bartender to fetch their mug...depending on how new you are, that is akin to Herakle's labors. Whereas we old fucks have ours on the low rung and the employee can get it, fill it, and you drink it quick as Pan. Beerficiency is a tricky thing, so I encourage each reader here to ask: "Am I really making the best use of my time and drinking dollar?"

For purposes of this action, I'm not including drinking at home in this formula...sure it's cheap to drink a twelve pack, but that's not entirely the point. Ridicule is also a part of this science. You can tell your dog or cat at home that you are shitfaced on Southpaw and they won't care. Smugly reminding the aging trollop with the nine dollar appletini**** that she's needlessly wasting cash is something else entirely. Mockery and pettiness are driving factors here at DK.


* The ones driving Panzers, not the pussies of today
**Buying boat dock beer is for fucking idiots
***Be certain to point out the outrage of paying the extra 50 cents
****Appletinis suck beyond belief and therefore you for ordering one

Self-diagnosis

I'm not talking about groping tit or nut to feel for the Big C. Nay, my concern is the dreaded and highly disturbing fear of empty glasses-Cenosillicaphobia. Sure there are larger and more complex issues for the beer-drinking body politic, but none more personal than this demon. While we drink with a vengeance, let us prosecute the war against this scourge.

Many times I get a feeling of unease as I gape at a rapidly depleted pint. Dear Lord, what if it goes dry soon? Where is the bartender? Am I expected to fill my own mug, thus confronting my worst nightmare? Awful.

When I first came to grips with my illness, I was just out of college. Before seeking gainful employment, I decided that during the interlude I would two-fist frequently. My mind recoiled in horror at the obvious problem belied by this otherwise noble effort. Should I sip both at the same time? Is it cheating to chug one and concentrate on the other? These rotten questions were pushed aside as the bottom came closer and closer...mocking me...blah, blah, blah.

Fortunately, upon the advice of charlatans and witch-doctors I discovered that the best way to end this crippling and debilitating fear by closing ones eyes and then gulp your way to metaphysical bliss. Speak proudly to the barmaid for another. Tell your asshole friend to get his shit to the kegerator. Stroll proudly into the store for more booze early in the morning. Don't judge me, retiree, I've got an illness and I'm out of beer. This is post-modern America after all, everyone's got some baggage like this.

I would propose a therapy group, but honestly I can't help any of you. Recommend instead you go to the Brewery tonight and let those $1.50 pints salve your battered soul. Explore your rich inner landscape and spear your inner demon right in the taint.