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!

Move the Hell away from the damn bar, shitheads

Christ, was I pissed off last Friday. I've struggled back and forth with the decision to call out the bar where this disgrace occurred. For now, I've opted against it since to smear the business would be somewhat unfair based upon the utter douchebaggery of their patrons...even if the establishment could do more to discourage the bastard practice of standing around a crowded bar after you've received your beverages.

Most decent people know that once you've gotten your drink, you need to allow the patron behind you to belly up to the bar. Unfortunately, with the utter pussification of this nation in the last two decades, someone hasn't been getting the memo...and worse, sentinels of good drinking habits haven't been taking the offenders to the side for a quick word or asswhipping.

No longer.

So I say to you, dipshit college aged turd that wouldn't move after ordering complicated drinks: Fuck you. This little spike-haired bastard further broke good conduct by sticking his arm through my group to fist bump another of his shitface friends. Poor fucking form. I pray to a just deity that your car was keyed and filled with the stench of catpiss and vomit.

I say to you, blondish whore with her whore friends that ordered mind erasers. First, bitch, when the bar is packed you either buy beer or two-part cocktails. Mind erasers? Are you fucking high? Then you and your little collection of STDs had the hard tits to slurp them through the goddamn straw right there. In a circle. In a crowd of thirsty people. You apparently didn't see baleful stares of the staff boring holes in the back of your peroxide hair.(your roots were black as night, harridan)...at least the one poor guy tagging along with your hellish drop had the decency to look around as if expecting to get smashed with a pint glass.

Awful, goddamn awful. I blame your upbringing. You all should take poison and get fucked.

Bar Review: Sunsphere Update

Leaving the horror of the 2008 UT-Bama game we found ourselves back in the familiar confines of the Skybox. Not a major update here, only to say that now both elevators are working and the bartender ran off some awful frat idiots inquiring about Red Bull, Jager, etc.

I'm not against Jager and Red Bull, or Vodka and Red Bull as was the second drink order these khaki wearing dipshits wanted. Nay, it is just that some bars are for the drinking professionals (aka adults) and that shit outs you as college douche. Indeed, though we were not carded these guys were. Learn, oafish simpletons of the future.

Huge props to the Skybox for having some goddamn taste.

The National Nightmare is Finally Over

Piss up a rope Zima.

Today we learn that at long last this cultural abortion ends with all the ignominity it deserves.

http://www.bizjournals.com/milwaukee/stories/2008/10/20/daily5.html

First appearing circa 1992 this wretched bitch soon found purchase among dandies, teen girls, unicorns, and hipster assholes that "don't like the taste of beer." Well, excuse me your highness alcohol isn't supposed to taste like candy. Get fucked.

There is a reason that the wine cooler phase of American boozing died out. It's awful. Look, if you want something that tastes like fruit or whatnot, make a proper liquor drink. While I don't drink vodka and cranberry juice, I won't give you shit for it at the bar. Order a wine cooler, Zima, hard cider, or god help you Smirnoff Ice and your ears will bleed for a month. These fuckers at least understood that sad bit of postmodern America.

I, too, would rather drink the urine of a ram rather than Zima. They should nuke the processing plant then bury the remnants with concrete.

Just a Quick Note....

...to say how much I love free booze! We all know how much we love the booze, but the sweet, sweet taste of gratis booze is so much better - especially in times of financial woe! Sure the economy is in the tank, but as long as hooch is around there is reason to keep on truckin. I've been working out of the office the past few days and luckily entertaining some clients from out of town. And the easiest way to entertain folks you don't know is to get 'em liquored up. And of course that works for people you know too, but usually you have to pay for those situations.

I've been fortunate to have some drinks on the company dollar, not to mention some fine meals to boot. Oh you don't say! You want me to mention them? Surely you wouldn't care to know about the FREE fillet and crab-stuffed shrimp dinner with whisky, wine, vodka and beer the other night. Or a fine game hen dinner with pre-dinner brewery beer, more wine, vodka and such. No, no. Never mind. Forget I brought it up. I'll just (gulps beer) be heading back to our HQ and send these guests on their way.

An Open Letter-

to the wretched androgyne wading amongst us last night at the pub. Oh, is it a boy or a girl? How clever. How very 1990's Imperial Drag.

Look, you would repulse me enough based upon your mannish attire, worn in such a way to obscure any potential mammaroid sightings. Your walk is indicative of the chain-wallet crowd, and your fake tan is baffling given it is summer and you could obtain some shade via natural means. Most stunning at all is your choice of hairstyle, known to all as the Horn of Aggression. Get a load of these examples:
















Sweet merciful Jesus. Death take me quickly. You realize, sexless man-woman, that this particular abortion of style has unsophisticated roots long documented in cave drawings?
Get the message? No? I will elaborate further, you shame yourself and worse yet everyone around you as every bar patron is forced to contend with your personal choice. The beer tastes flatter, and no one knows which bathroom you are going to use. It's extremely poor form.

If being compared to a Cro-Magnon, Neatherthal, or Australopithecines doesn't motivate you to change, allow me to also point out you resemble the douchebags of Jersey or Long Island. I mean, we've all seen these cliched pics circulating around Al Gore's internet for years now, but since you didn't get the memo:


I weep for the future. Until nuclear artillery is an option, please stay the F out of my bar.

I rail at thee, mix-n-match six pack

For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.-- Kipling

Indulge me for just a moment. Yes, the reader may wonder what I have against the seemingly innocent practice of mix and matching one's six pack...but I say now that this practice is godless, deceitful, and most likely communist. Soviet even.

I was at the local food jobber over the weekend. Being a man, I of course went to the beer section where I notice a patron with the bland white cardboard container indicative of this egalitarian practice. Now this place for years posted signs imploring us citizens to refrain from the college era prank/rookage of repackaging Newcastles into a Miller Lite six packs which could save the crafty ( if morally flexible) student upwards of five bucks. This is a young man's game, and should be abandoned upon getting a decent occupation. I note with irony the fact that said grocery store now encourages their state sanctioned mixing...complete with a nice surcharge(ie fucking) for the shopper.

Back to the patron. I scowled at his effete purchase...wondering if he was getting some Tiger Lagers from Singapore, or perhaps some Abita. Instead, this asshole had two Miller Chills and what appeared to be some Hefe Weizen trash, plus two malt piss from Smirnoff.

Juno's cunt, have you lost your mind sir?

This is part of the problem...anyone weak enough with a pathological need to sample some beers should man up and buy a six pack of the brew. You don't like Stella Artois after one bottle? Tough shit fairy, drink the other five now and learn your lesson. That's not to say one can't go into a proper bar and try new beers or drinks...but that is the time and place for proper

experimentation, not sitting on your well explored sofa nancing about which low carb trash you want to drink next. Hell, I would have had more respect had this consumer loaded up his custom six pack with heavy hitters like Red Hook, Duck-Rabbit, or any of the fifty Sam Adams that gets thrust on the American public. Bud Lime/Chill? Awful.

To take single beers and turn them into some sort of heterogeneous experiment is wrong. You rob the beer of its strength when you remove it from its fellows...and cheapen your buzz in the process. To sum up: if purchasing a single beer is your goal, find a nice 40(they like it
with the word 'dawg' because it makes them feel like they're friends with the product) and proceed to the gutter...otherwise, purchase your beer as prominent thinkers always have: six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, pony keg, keg in that order.

Save that douchebag crap for the Smirnoff Ice drinkers.

What a Surprise...

The holiday weekend is upon us - beware! A new & non-creative campaign by KPD drops the hammer on 4th of July drivers.

Chief Owen said, “Simply put, we will not tolerate motorists’ who are driving while impaired. If you are driving under the influence, you will go to jail.”

Well color me surprised. I have noticed those stupid signs they are so proud of and have two words for the ingenious ripoff: Fuck Off! I read the article about the new signs last week and was thoroughly unimpressed. So some broad saw similar signs elsewhere and decided it would be a good idea for Knoxville. What-the-fuck-ever. Like we need a sign outside the liquor store or a favorite restaurant to warn us Big Brother is watching.Fuck their DUI signs. Fuck their stupid campaigns. Fuck off in general.

I Just Called To Say I Hate You

Well I was hoping this didn’t have to be posted, but because of the horrible start it has been proven that it must. So for those of you not in the know (probably 2 out of the 6 who read this babble) this is The Summer of Shunning.

shun
verb
1.
avoid and stay away from deliberately; stay clear of
2.
expel from a community or group [syn: banish]

Not a hard concept to understand, but hard to implement. This is hard to believe with this group, but here we are. Hey it’s not something to feel bad about, some people just fucking deserve it, and we probably should have done this a long time ago. Even though we have opened up our fun to the web, that doesn’t mean the group around us can’t get too big. Sometimes you have to cut off the weak and stupid to fend for themselves. There are cases where you see potential in some to be able to drink with the group and occasionally inject a bit of insight, but there may come a time when you must realize that not all will reach their full potential, or they will do something or many things so fucking dumb that they must be shunned. This concept must be understood and followed by all in order to work. Boycotts don’t work if you’re the only one boycotting. So this should be done with extreme prejudice, they should know they are on our list, if they can’t already sense it. The more they feel the sense of ostracism, the less of it we will have to do, therefore more time to drink. And trust me beer taste better with people you like.

Drinking Knoxville

Welcome to Drinking Knoxville - a blog written by local drunks for all you other drinkers out there.

What to expect: drunken stories, juvenile humor, crude obscenities, local opinions, sports references, bar and brand reviews, amature writing.

What Not to expect: political correctness, responsible behavior, quality graphics, decency, sense.

So with that out of the way we will soon begin our regular postings to entertain ourselves, and possibly some others along the way.