Interlude

Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard.

-A Tale of Two Cities

Boy that was some shit Monday huh? If the actual shock of sitting through that solid mass of water wasn't a kick enough for the balls, the cringing at seeing so many up to their asses in that nasty mess certainly will. Once again, Mother Nature brings the heat and I'll be damned if she doesn't have one more ace up her sleeve. Of course, we recommend copious boozing to erase the taste of this event, and while you are at it lend a hand to those with damaged homes and vehicles.

So before I tell you why it's time to get back to drinking, let me first preface by saying that the good people here with the Second Harvest Food Bank got walloped and lost a good bit of supplies. Worse, there is damage to their hardware which complicates the already tenuous collection effort. I am told there is an ad hoc and improvised effort from our friends at Downtown Grill and Brewery to organize aid for Second Harvest, so if you are a local business that can help there is a good place to start. In addition, one can always donate directly at the effort's website:

http://www.secondharvestknox.com/ as well learn more about what they are facing after the waters receded.

Okay, now for some motivation. Today is Beer Day in Iceland, where Reykjavik recognized the complete folly of 75 years of prohibition and allowed beer (as we know it) to resume its rightful place in 1989. Hoist one if you need a reason to drink on a Tuesday(we do not).

Also on March 1st(or 2nd in some climes) is the commemoration of the Feast of Vesta, the ancient ritual where the hearth fire was stoked.

Not exactly the Bacchanal but it's a start and a reason to shake off the Whiskey Season and look to the future. So in that spirit, lets get ready for proper Spring drinking-St. Patrick's Day is right around the corner, as well as a needed get-the-fuck-out-of-town happy fun times.

In Which I Rail About the Weather

Well you little son of a bitch, what's it going to be? Hmm? Do we get a timely and much needed Spring or will this miserable wet weather never end?

Half the country is buried under record snowfalls, but many of the lucky ones in those otherwise deadly urban traps will walk to local bars, and the rest of them should know to have ample stores of hooch at home. Keep the faith, folks.

For the last few weeks, we've bundled and medicated all in order to consume whiskey and drink as many strong beers as possible. Regardless of what the rat does in Pennsylvania tomorrow, this weekend is the Super Bowl, so we can all eat well then laugh at the expensive commercials. It's a sign of hipness and a badge of honor to show up Monday at work and still slightly reek. It's in the national character.

Once that holy of holy days is in the books however, yours truly is ready for warmer weather. St. Patrick's Day will loom large, as it always does in Knoxville(seriously, check out the Old City and Downtown that afternoon, you'll be surprised in the participation). Then come April, it's time for the fantastic street festival affectionately known as the Rossini Festival. Mackey has elaborated on that happy-as-shit fun time in previous entries, so maybe I will spell him and write this year's account. In the meantime, I'll continue to freeze my ass off...and pay attention to that gopher lookin' prick.

Nine millimeters of Luger

Let me just say I don't care for these electronic cigarettes. Not because I think those who use the insipid things are trying to skirt the smoking laws, rather I have found every single person who is using them in a bar setting to be a screaming douche.

I'm no smoking prude. In fact, among non-smokers you will find me the most pro-cancer stick. I lament the passing of smoking sections on planes and trains, and you will still see me frequent 21 and over bars that still allow smoking. This is America, and you should be able to kill your body however you please.

So last night I am downtown, and this older fellow was indulging in this tripe. He finagled his way to the center of his table, overpowering conversation and gesturing like a madman with his stupid damn stick. It lacks the couth and class of a pipe, sir. Worse, when your friends attempted to get your attention you would quickly pull your tiny Freudian cockstitute to your mouth and exhale a small amount of vapor into said friend's face. Feh. They really need to kick your ass.

Look, if the droat-wearing girls can stand outside in scarves and hideous boots to smoke during the cold January nights then you can too. I recognize that everyone probably doesn't engage in this low-level visual cocktardery when they activate their e cigarette. I beseech someone to step up and lead these misguided souls.

Tuesday

Yeah, so I've managed to acquire a bar globe. Nothing fancy, I didn't buy it airdrunk from Skymall or the Westerfield estate but it will serve in the beginning. Numerous early ideas about painting it like Unicron or the Death Star were bounced around. Like so much else, we just cut through the shit and accepted the status quo so as to get drinking "right damn now."



Not a particularly expensive or complex model, nonetheless the damn thing was lying in the motherfucking weeds and jumped up to wage hateful war against the group this last weekend! Much like Atlas and Mackey's dual kegerators that came before it the bourbon and vodka contained therein prosecuted our livers effectively. I am not confident of victory.

Glug

Couple of quick nods today. First, on the cutting edge(not really) of drinking technology we have this:

http://www.amazon.com/Giant-Wine-Glass-Holds-Bottle/dp/B000O3PZ1M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=home-garden&qid=1279890480&sr=1-1

Ah, the ascension of the modern drunk means that we can't be bothered by refills. Just pour the entire damn thing into this goblet and terrorize your home. Amazon's failure to market this with a carpet cleaner package is proverbial.

Also, from the convicts we have this fine idea:

http://www.couriermail.com.au/lifestyle/workers-warming-to-lazy-fridays/story-e6frer4f-1225895878117

Lazy Fridays...yes, an idea that must find purchase here. Ah, the Aussies...I can almost forgive the Gallipoli disaster, the multitude of lethal flora and fauna, and the wrong direction of your toilets if you keep coming up with gems like these.

Oh, the six demon bag!

Jack Burton: Terrific, a six-demon bag. Sensational. What's in it, Egg?

Egg Shen: Wind, fire, all that kind of thing!

Once upon a time there were Three Storms.

They had rotten attitudes. They would smash marketplaces and livestock all over the Chinese sector. You know, shake down immigrants in steamy streets cloaked in perpetual night...break windows in the local dry cleaner that didn't pay protection and so on. This sort of shit:

Well, la de da. Appearances notwithstanding they put on quite the show. This one in particular had a mean streak. Alas, all good things must come to an end. Where are they now?

Rain ended up moving a few subdivisions over from me apparently. I go over for yard/deck drinkin' from time to time. Not many henchmen end up in surburbia.

Fun fact: Rain can drink his weight in beer.

Well

Yeah, I know. Deep subject right. Ziiinnnnnnnggggg.

In any event, Mackey will have to lead you here from now on. You see, I've made a few personal decisions that I'll admit are in conflict with my modest position here. I believe that as I've gotten a little older, a little more mature that I can't continue to drink without abandon or concern for social consequences. We've all got to grow up sometime, and I'm long overdue when it comes to this. Sure, owning my home and vehicle...holding down a steady job all those things are signs of responsible sane living. Getting torched in the morning for drunk breakfast? Not so much. So, I've got to bid you guys farewell. Maybe you'll see me at your local coffee shop or yard sale(if it's a weekend.) Best wishes, and maybe you should ask yourselves the hard questions with which I have been challenged.

I'm just fucking with you. Happy April Fool's Day assholes. If anything, I'm going to pour it on. Pun intended. April is a great month for drinking in Knoxville. Festivals, festivals, and more festivals. King Randall's always classic birthdays. Spring has fucking sprung. As we extend into year three around here, you'll find more bar reviews and more updates from familiar establishments. Cheers, ladies.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

The Ballad of Doh Da Thone

Boh Da Thone was a warrior bold:

His sword and his rifle were bossed with gold,

And the Peacock Banner his henchmen bore

Was stiff with bullion, but stiffer with gore.

He shot at the strong and he slashed at the weak

From the Salween scrub to the Chindwin teak:

He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean,

He filled old ladies with kerosene:

While over the water the papers cried,

"The patriot fights for his countryside!"

But little they cared for the Native Press,

The worn white soldiers in Khaki dress,

Who tramped through the jungle and camped in the byre,

Who died in the swamp and were tombed in the mire,

Who gave up their lives, at the Queen's Command,

For the Pride of their Race and the Peace of the Land.

Now, first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone

Was Captain O'Neil of the Black Tyrone,

And his was a Company, seventy strong,

Who hustled that dissolute Chief along.

-Kipling

http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_bohdathone.htm

In a few hours, go make the most of it. Get out your Boru Harp, and drink like Wolf the Quarrelsome.

If you need us we'll be roaming downtown and carrying it on to the Old City.
For Heaven's sake though, please don't need us.

Boozing is just as fun when animated

I'm not talking about getting tore up from the floor up either. Even when sobriety is crudely thrust upon me by responsibilities and that thing called 'work' I do enjoy seeing heavy boozing portrayed on the small screen. Throw in the limitless options presented by the adult-themed cartoon and we're in business. I present the FX Network's Archer.

The car smashing into what appears to be a boat made of balsa wood is iconic.

It's no secret that LVL loves his dirty and filthy cartoons...and fortunately the powers that be have gotten a full dose now of just how effective and damn funny the genre can be. The fact is characters can be drawn and written with almost limitless options really counts for a lot. Let's be honest, South Park and Family Guy paid their dues...and while their forerunners in The Simpsons and the vastly underrated The Critic dabbled in this absurdity, but it wasn't until cable took this type of program to late nights that we really gain insight into the drunken and drugged out world that is the mind of a comedic writer. The latest and sharpest of such programs these days is Archer.

Archer is set in an alternate reality where the Soviet Union(or at least Russia) is still engaged in a Cold War setting and privatized spy agencies pick up the slack that the CIA, MI-6, and the KGB leave unattended. Thinking of the sophisticated subdued drinking of James Bond and his martini? Think again.

This show is currently like nine episodes into its run, and every episode has displayed one or more characters drinking everything from Absinthe all the way to a double Campari and Vodka.

But LVL, aren't these drinks just understated props? Fuck you, no. The series is riddled with all the worst stereotypes about excessive boozing. Drinking on an empty stomach, drinking on the clock, sex-filled blackouts, drinking and driving, poonhoundery, and bizarre chemicals ingested as a side item to half gallons of gin, scotch, and champagne. Ever see someone snort MSG? Enter Dr. Krieger. Ever seen erotic asphyxiation on your normal Thursday viewing? Archer makes it a plot point in half the episodes. Wanted to see your reamed out mother blackout and lick gin off the elevator floor? Meet Malory.

This bitch's breath could peel paint. Even she runs around half-naked...but that's nothing compared to Lana Kane, Sterling's sometime lover and rival spy.

Lana's animated tits bounce around like 'shes at a rodeo' and yet despite her nakedness, she is an accomplished spy(Archer himself is somewhat of an unappreciated badass) who is known to 'hit the sauce' pretty hard on assignment.

If you've got 30 minutes to blow on Thursdays 10PM, give Archer a shot. You will feel the powerful urge to drink right along with these degenerates. Rampant heroin use and snorting MSG, seems a poor idea though in any reality.

Shit from elsewhere

Some interesting news and notes across the Atlantic and Pacific:

Looks like Belgium is running out of beer(how did that move to InBev treat you Anheuser Busch?) due to, what else-strikes and protesters.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20100121/wl_time/08599195467500

I don't drink Headbusters any longer, but don't fuck with my Stella you douchebags. That article states that beer consumption is down across Europe which this author finds remarkable. It's almost enough to make one pine away for the days when Europe was a fine hotbed of religious persecution, dysfunctional alliances, and machine gun manufacturers.

The other bit of news comes to us from Japan, home to weird shit even before Sekigahara. Did you know that one of the world's most popular brands of Scotch whisky hails from Yoichi? You may see this mean bastard on package store shelves very soon.

Import laws have been very hard on this distiller. That's not surprising though, given that even Seagrams had to settle disputes before being allowed to sell a Kentucky Bourbon(Four Roses) in large amounts here in the states. Strange. Even though I don't drink from the malt whisky tree/style I still welcome any beverage that is cleared to move here in the States. The founder of this distillery traveled to Scotland in the early 20th century to learn their secrets, and so the first manufacturing facility for this stuff was established in 1934, at a time when Japan's primary exports were a Sino occupation force and torpedo bombers.

Nikka is owned these days by Asahi, whom most of us will recognize as a fairly popular Japanese beer. Looks like they used their stroke to break down the prohibition against their Scotch being sold in the US. I doubt very seriously that I'll ever drink a drop of it, but hey this shit's not about me and my bullshit opinion. At the very least I can appreciate the challenge of making malt whisky in a climate that differs significantly from Scotland. Cheers!

Look here, you sumbitch...

Overheard at the bar tonight. Perhaps I said it:

Rainbow Brite needs to meet Mr. Owl.

I'm not on trial here.

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

Get off my land

Yes, I get it. It's Thanksgiving. Again. Year in and year out, I grit my teeth as acquaintances extol everything they are grateful for...usually listing their earthly possessions and worldly goods in a manner that's much more 'look what I've got' rather than sincere gratitude.

It's not limited to my religious friends either. Oh no, my atheist compadres also will bore me with a litany of shit. I'm sure God enjoys the irony of both groups being quite like the other in this regard.

I'm quite aware that being a 30-something means I still don't know shit. I'm dumb like an extinct species. What I can tell you is that I learned from a precious few good people what to be thankful for. Surviving Normandy or Hue. Pulling through a nasty life-threatening illness. Eating some meat when you've had more than a year or two of beans and garden grown potatoes. Having a roof over your head that's not a canvas or built to house hundreds. Nearly all of these things I learned from my paternal grandfather, a man in every sense of the word...a man whose shoes I wasn't fit to shine(largely because I've always had shoes). The economy may suck ass, but pick up a history book and look back a few decades if you want to see real Goddamn monetary distress in the world.

I'm thankful on Turkey Day for the things I'm thankful for 24/7/365. I encourage everyone to go into a private room and recount what makes you feel grateful. It's just as valid in the dark as when you drop leaflets from your warplanes.

I'll buy a beer for someone who just tells me, flat out, that this Thanksgiving they are thankful for beer, bird, and football*. This is one American who won't find you a shallow prick. You're being more honest than most. I refer to this holiday and the days around it as Drinksgiving, but I'm not going to tell every asshole I see about it in obnoxious detail and for that good readers-- give earnest thanks. Because, I really don't know shit.


* in fucking hi-def of course

Cash Only

A big peeve of mine at the bars these days is the bastard practice of pre-authorization of credit cards for a set sum in advance of the tab. Most banking institutions will count this as a pending charge on your account, and heaven only knows what rotten practice each individual credit card company will pursue. In short, long after you have left the bar you still feel like you haven't paid. Days after the final beer, last call, and the hangover you haven't yet finished the ordeal. I realize this practice is not new, nor is it illegal or unethical. You are after all, making a decision on where to drink and part of that process is the style of management said bar utilizes. However, just because a bar has a legal leg to stand on doesn't make it "cool."

It's not unusual for a bar to hold a card for the tab, I grant that. Even fine with it, although my regular bars would get crucified if they asked me for a card. The truth is that some places get ripped off on a frequent basis and creativity with opening and closing a tab can keep the place in the black and won't make the employees unhappy. We as patrons deserve some of the blame for running out on tabs, miserly tipping, drawing arrogant birds on the receipt, etc. However, if I give a card and then opt to pay cash when leaving-that should be the end of it. Instead I've got an uncomfortable hand in my wallet for a few days even after I should be in the clear. Two places that I visit on a semi-regular basis have this misguided policy.


What relevance does the photo have with the post? Absolutely none, but I've wanted to use it for some time and have zero idea how to work it in to a usual topic. Maybe some loose connection to the Governor of Colliefornia and their credit/cash woes? Whatever.

I thought about whether or not to post this...complaint is the term, since the offenders are two bars that we have reviewed positively. I'll not identify them since I really enjoy both establishments and realize I am coming off as a nitpicky bastard. Just airing a grievance in advance of Festivus. Looks like I'll be taking a Adam Jones-ish wad of cash* and make it rain after each beer.

*No more than 20 US dollars

Random Manure

Sometimes I fret that people aren't drinking enough. Living here in this fortress of drinking while being surrounded by the so-called Bible Belt tends to cause paranoid delusions. Trust me, Mordor ain't got shit on some of the baleful glances I get from the teetotalers(especially when their hellish drop is closeby) when I am about town.

A little perspective is needed...because after a cursory and very, very sloppy internet search my faith is restored by the images and other content that screams "THE WORLD POSTS WHILE DRUNK." As you all know, we here at DK make a point to always post whilst sober.

Dear God, I think I am a latter day Mr. Hand.

Look, we all know that drunken text messaging...ill-advised boozy emails, photoshops etc are a fact of life. Consider the insanity of the de-motivational posters that have been co-opted to nefarious ends.

Truly, flying sharks would be bad for our species. Perhaps we can counter them with:

The research that leads to the hovertank program naturally will progress to mobile infantry such as the highly lethal Glitter Boy powered armor:

And so on. I would say people have too much free time...but clearly more people are drinking and using powerful, powerful drugs. Where did this shit begin? I blame Dr. Evil.

Thank you Mike Myers. Who among us can forget the dumbassery of the late 90s when everyone droned on and on about sharks-with-frickin-laserbeams...like it was our own joke and the funniest crap anyone has ever heard. Feh. I name this douchery as the pioneer of said movement. Now, look where we are in the decade hence. The fuckers from South Park put a killer whale on the moon...insert your "pwned" or "fail" caption as you will.

Most offensive(and baffling) are the fuckers from Lego that give us this evidence of extreme intoxication:

That's some awful Seaquest shit right there. But wait, what the hell is on those sharks?

Frickin gamma ray lasers. Someone is/was fucked up when this little trinket got the green light. Give the cocksucker lungs and legs as well, masochist. Not to be outdone, the cautionary signage industry has to get in on the action as well. Some high bastard took the time to come up with this somewhat official looking piece of shit:

And so here we are. As reasonable beings, we can conclude:

1. The world is in fact full of functional drunks that are computer-savvy.

2. Sharks seem to be on the minds of nearly all the populace...which makes even less sense when you live in Nebraska, for example.

3. The Austin Powers series was at least one movie too many.

4. The Absinthe-swilling Euros that work at the Lego mill are clearly the world's biggest Dr. Evil fans.

However, one might ask if this bastard movement of amalgams has run its course...does the drinking/technically competent community have something else in store?

Son of a bitch.


UPDATE: Mother of God, they're learning quickly. Siegecraft!

http://www.wwtdd.com/2009/08/oh-we-are-so-screwed/

Algonquin Round Table(in absentia)

Eddie from Iron Maiden: 'Allo? This bleeding thing on? I flew ollieway from the UK for something called a round table from some tossin' bugger named Lord Von Lord and no one showed up at the airport.


Arrogant Bird: I'm Arrogant Bird. I also was told to appear here...to discuss alcohol for some reason. You almost shot me out of the sky, asshole.
Eddie: Actually, I think it was this cat. Literally speaking.

LaserCat: That's right bird, I'm a cat after all. Some sadistic prick must have invited both of us here at the same time. I've got no idea why...I don't drink booze. Now a catnip panel, that's the shit right there. Maybe this biker can get us up to speed. ::pauses to lick where nuts once were::

Cholla: Beats the piss out of me kitty. I'm looking for Philo Beddoe.

Eddie: He's not here, goddammit. In fact, no one's here. Place is a fucking desert like fucking Tatooine.

Arrogant Bird: Right, here's a note. Mentions something about drinking a shit ton over the next few days and leaving town.

Cholla: Good idea.

Eddie: Let's leave this place a war zone.

LaserCat: Hells yes, let's trash this dump.

Algonquin Round Table Mk V

Okay, fine. I get it. Thus far my attempts at sensible and reasoned discussion have met with failure, scorn, and threats of bodily harm. I don't know what I was expecting, what with the lowbrow and indeed, somewhat criminal mindsets of my past panelists. What does yours truly have in mind to correct this mess? Not a damn thing. Let's get started with this installment:

First panelist, you are up. I present to you all Lord Percy Lambourn...soused noble and gentlemen.LVL: Ah, Lord Lambourn I see you are with the admiral and Lady Lambourn.

Lord Lambourn: Er...ah...indeed. I really didn't expect her here today you know. She rarely takes to these events, but when she does she does. Hedge pissers and matters of "etti-quette" are more her fancy.

LVL: Her dessicated cleavage is certainly pronounced. I think I'll have some of that rum if you don't mind. Do all genteel ladies of your period have their goods out there all the time?

LL: Er...ah...yes, or rather no. Usually I am too far in my cups to notice her...er..ah...cups.

LVL: That's all rather confusing, sir. Next panelist also hails from the bygone days of Britannia: Post-Captain Jack Aubrey, MP, of HMS Surprise. Greetings Captain.

Captain Jack Aubrey: Well met sir, although I am curious why you would question me on matters of ship's rum and grog, rather than...oh, hold fast there! A Frenchman!

(fires pistol)

LVL: Sweet Jesus that was loud.

CJA: Fie, that's nothing compared to the broadside of 18-pounders on a ship-of-the-line. Now sir, can we make this quick? I'll miss my tide and then have to run like smoke and oakum. You don't mind if we run our sheets? Prime.

LL: Are you a member of Parliament sir? I don't recall seeing you, but it's a trifle. Speaking of, I once had a rum trifle...zzzzz

LVL: Gentlemen, allow me to please complete introducing the remaining panel members and then we can discuss all things.

CJA: You mean rum, don't you?

LVL: Among other things. We're not restricted to that you know...it is the 21st century at Drinking Knoxville.

LL: I've never been to the Americas.

LVL: Actually you have. You were shit-faced the entire time. Do you not remember killing every living thing in the jungle with Dr. Gilpin? You consumed a rare poison and metabolized it in seconds.
LVL: Any of this ring a bell?

LL: zzzzz

LVL: I never knew British lords slept so much. Let's add one more Englishmen to the group today folks, but one more acquainted with boozing in the modern era...ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Motorhead's Lemmy:

Lemmy: Slag off. I'm just here for the drinks. I'll answer your piss-ant questions as soon as I get a fag from the cigarette machine.

LVL: Uh, not to contradict you Lemmy, but that's actually our last panel member...the Tycho Monolith from the groundbreaking novel 2001. Far as I know, it does not vend tobacco.

CJA: By Jove, what is that damn thing?

LL: zzzzzz

LM: So you're telling me I've got to get my own smokes? Bloody Hell what kind of chickenshit operation is this?

LVL: Well, our previous Round Tables have met with utter disaster. I thought we might want to bring in someone...er...something with a grander historical and celestial perspective on the subject.

LM: The fucking thing can't talk, you wanker. It's got no mouth. How can it drink?

LVL: I was drunk when I booked this installment.

CJA: You two blokes, help me run this carronade up so I can get a good shot at that Frog.


LVL: Captain, far be it from me to object to shooting up the French, but we did ask you to speak on the importance of alcohol in maintaining morale on a proper manowar.

CJA: Fine, for you landlubbers out there the Royal Navy has a fine tradition of rationing rum to able and ordinary seamen to keep morale high and maintain a fighting crew on the high seas. When a vessel of His Majesty leaves port, he cannot do so without barrel upon barrel of rum and grog. Tens of thousands of gallons are necessary to take a frigate halfway around the world. Apart from the necessary rationing to the men, without copious amounts of alcohol a fighting ship would soon fall apart. Hells bells sir, to say nothing of the medicinal needs we face. You try sawing off shattered limbs without opium and brandy. The entire basis of free trade on the high seas so essential to western society would not be possible with--all guns fire as she bears!


CJA: Take that Boney! Now where were we?

LVL: BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF ME. I CAN'T HEAR A GODDAMN THING. PERHAPS YOU COULD SPEAK ABOUT YOUR PRIVATE STORES. I'M TOLD THE CAPTAIN AND GUNROOM MAINTAINS A FINE TABLE.

CJA: Oh, that. Indeed. No captain worth his salt would dare leave port without his port! HA HA! Port, d'ya hear? My table is always set with a brisk claret or madeira. Observe:



LVL: Shots?!

CJA: You have it sir. No common grog with my officers. You've heard the term 'groggy' after all? It will suffice to keep scurvy at bay, but tastes like shit. Not the good shit either.

LM: To think that England of today owes its prosperity to thousands of shithoused sailors and their booze.

LVL: I see you've found some smokes, Lemmy.

LM: I took 'em off that passed out bloke right there.

LVL: Lord Lambourn, wake up sir. Can you add to Captain Aubrey's account of drunken English sea-power?

LL: Er...ah...I say, I've always been interested in the sea and what's in it. But Captain Aubrey is not the only one to encounter scoundrels in defense of mother England. Why only the other day I had to set this hardened rogue in her place:






LM: Looks like the little shit had it coming.

LVL: Um, do you have anything to add Tycho Monolith?

TM: (makes creepy noises)

LVL: Okay. Well...this is confusing. I didn't really think the Tycho Monolith's role through.

CJA: If someone would nudge his Lordship awake, I would really like to ask his opinion on my new heraldic device for my MP standards. And yours, future unwashed Englishman...

LM: What's the deal with the drunken sloth?

LVL: I was going to ask about the tortoise myself...but...er...ah, I'm being told the Tycho Monolith is now the Jovian Monolith. As if this day wasn't fucking weird enough.

LVL: Alright, Jovian Monolith, what far-reaching and universal truth can you give us?

JM:

LVL: Oh shit, not that fucking thirty minute acid trip bullshit again.

CJA: That doesn't address my question, at all.

LM: Looks like the light show from Hammersmith Odeon back in '84.

LL: (pukes)

LVL: Fuck this noise.