The Hardware Bar
Fellow is opening a watering hole downtown called, for whatever reason, “The Hardware Bar.” I’m pretty sure that’s the name. Maybe it’s because after the girls have had enough alcohol to blur their judgement, they will get nailed and/or screwed. Don’t know.
The owner wants to open it in time for St. Patrick’s Day. He has other places around the area and says that’s his way of operating: Open just before a major drinking holiday.
Oh? I know people get pretty blitzed on the feast of this French-Irish missionary, but I don’t see any tie in with beer and/or more effective beverages. He didn’t even drive the snakes out of Ireland; the glacial activity and landmass separation took care of that.
So, our guy is getting ready to dispense That Which Makes Us Infallible on the day we recall to mind the slave boy who became the missionary to the then-heathen Irish. Many who would trace their lineage to the Ould Sod will drink beer and speak of the bad days under the hated British, sing dreadful Irish songs that never saw the old country but did see Bing Crosby, and cry over how they treated their deceased mothers.
Oh, the humanity!
I’d love to know how the free-flowing suds ever became identified with Our Guy Pat. I’m also curious as to how all this will fit in with the solemn Holy Week in the Christian church: Can you really go out and get drunk if you are in any way religious?
The owner wants to open it in time for St. Patrick’s Day. He has other places around the area and says that’s his way of operating: Open just before a major drinking holiday.
Oh? I know people get pretty blitzed on the feast of this French-Irish missionary, but I don’t see any tie in with beer and/or more effective beverages. He didn’t even drive the snakes out of Ireland; the glacial activity and landmass separation took care of that.
So, our guy is getting ready to dispense That Which Makes Us Infallible on the day we recall to mind the slave boy who became the missionary to the then-heathen Irish. Many who would trace their lineage to the Ould Sod will drink beer and speak of the bad days under the hated British, sing dreadful Irish songs that never saw the old country but did see Bing Crosby, and cry over how they treated their deceased mothers.
Oh, the humanity!
I’d love to know how the free-flowing suds ever became identified with Our Guy Pat. I’m also curious as to how all this will fit in with the solemn Holy Week in the Christian church: Can you really go out and get drunk if you are in any way religious?
posted by Tom Carten at 2:29 AM
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