Dude, Where's My Bar?

The truth is that nobody (by this I mean people I have talked with or overheard discussing the issue) actually gives a fuck about Prohibition or MaltMarch because, 'Why do I want to rant about Prohibition when I can drink anytime I want to?' (Which is not true at all but look what a silly law that's gone on and on hopelessly forever can do to the sleeping proletariat and bourgeoisie.)

It's a joke in this state. Every college kid and her grandmother has a bootlegger.

To be honest, the politics of drinking is not really on my list of priorities either. I get all the fancy booze I want when I go out of town, I bring lots back (it's beautifully easy, I love all this lax security here) or I just get people coming and going to do my dirty work for me.

However, regular booze is pretty fucking ghastly. I have to depend on the whims and fancies of my bootlegger for Old Monk. (Frankly, the most disgusting drink ever, but it's alcohol). I have known him for three years now and he still says, 'Madam, drink gin. Why don't I get you some gin? It's a lady's drink.'

Well, I could be a lady if I wanted to, Mr Bootlegger, but no fucking way I'm going to prove it by drinking gin.

I would like to be able to walk into a shop and buy Glenfiddich without being obliquely accused of bring a tramp, thank you very much. Or beer. AT NORMAL RATES. I mean, if someone wanted an abortion, they actually have a choice but they can't buy themselves a fucking DRINK! Is it just me or does that sound completely twisted?

All I'm saying is that Prohibition is stupid, outdated, hypocritical and NEEDS TO GO. Maybe not lifted like tomorrow or something because, well, there might be murder and mayhem seeing as how people haven't had a good time for a while in these parts. But ease it out.

That said, I also want a place to go and down a few tequilas and dance my butt off. What's wrong with that? There are those who say it'll destroy the morals of the place or whatever. But all you good good people, I don't see the rest of the country going to the dogs just because there's a few pubs around. (It'll be good, trust me. Been there, done that, stole the t-shirt.)

ONE lousy bar, man. That's all I ask for. In the words of Hawthorne, 'Hell, we'll even call it Gandhi, if you want!'

As an enlightened noble citizen concerned with the oneness of humankind and the bonds of everlasting friendship between all races, MaltMarch has my vote for what it's worth.