Saturday, June 11, 2011
So You Think You can Drink.
Most among us enjoy a tasty libation once in a while, some more than others. People have been wanting to get intentionally fucked up since the dawn of civilization. Seeing a good band and having a few drinks go hand in hand. Booze is the social lubricant that eases the sometimes uncomfortable interaction of disparate groups of humans. Governments rake in staggering amounts of profits from the sale of the demon alcohol. It's all fun and games, but not one of us can deny having done some really ridiculous and embarrassing things under the influence. There are some that can't handle the ole likker, and are what usually falls under the catch-all sobriquet of " Bad drunk". While most of admittedly do well under the influence of a few, some do not. Here are a few types of what one would call "bad drunks"
I think that everyone knows at least one of these harmless drunks. They are usually light weights who get hammered after a few drinks. They start doing the twenty beer tango after a couple of beers. Gravity seems to affect these individuals in a different way, as if the laws of physics no longer applied. You can see these usually jovial souls staggering about in the bar, flitting from table to table and producing a litany of gibberish to anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact.
The warp in the space/time continuum experienced by Sloppy Joe seems to affect his clothing as well, because it is always disheveled ( like his hair). The dumb smile and constant stream of drool emanating from his mouth are direct evidence that the laws of gravity are askew.
He won't be there long, because he just can't handle anymore. His inebriation will devolve into maudlin behavior and he will soon be gone after he announces, " I love you guys".
2. The Yakker.
Oh lawdy lawdy, we have all been subjected to the energy sucking vortex of the constant stream of unintelligible yammering produced by the yakker. Not content to blather incessantly, the yakker insists that it must be done at ear splitting levels. While there are a few varieties of them, the most common is the middle aged cougar. They will never run out of shit to say, which is apropos because all the sounds produced by that robust larynx are nothing but shit. The will usually brag about their prowess at ridiculous endeavors such as karaoke, basket weaving or driving at uncontrollable speeds.
The yakkers seem to have a fondness for the blues and can usually be found at blues bars, gyrating and jumping around randomly to the music. They are quick to anger however, so care must be taken when someone yells," Shut the fuck up already!" because they will want to fight. Nobody wants the social stigma associated with punching a cougar in the face, so like an angry chihuahua who is too stupid to know that you could drop kick him half a mile, it is best to avoid these moronic banshees.
3. The Rockabilly Drunk .
Greasers are known for their affinity for beer and disdain of pot and associated retarded behavior of pot smokers. The Rockabilly buzz, is a different buzz however. It is fueled by grease, testosterone , gasoline and the desire to put the greasiest shit possible in their hair.
One might assume that with all the loud pipes and testosterone present that shit is bound to happen. That may be so, but greasers rarely fight one another, generally out of mutual respect for each others hair. It borders on the criminal to mess with a greaser's pomp, and they all seem to tacitly acknowledge that. (That isn't too say that I haven't met a few greaser douchebags). If a rumble does indeed happen, rest assured that it was instigated by louts who most assuredly deserved a good punch in the throat.
The greasers are usually too busy having a good time and are rarely distracted from that. As the Pabst- fueled evening goes on and the inhibitions are loosened , they go outside and all rev their engines at the same time. The evening usually winds down with all the cats trying to "out-rockabilly" each other. Some will wake up with some inexplicably new tattoos.
4. The Philosopher.
This type of drunk yakker fondly thinks of him or herself as being cerebral. Most times they are just slightly deranged, or just plain full of shit. They are seem to have a philosophical analysis on every subject including some of the most mundane.
Too self absorbed to even listen to any one else, they will blather on incessantly, and being hammered, quite incoherently. If you let the philosopher go on it will devolve into complete gibberish or the misguided belief that he speaks a foreign language. Do not attempt to talk sense or engage the philosopher in an intelligent debate, you will be wasting your time. Just abruptly turn your back and walk away. They won't even notice that you're gone and will just keep on yammering to inanimate objects in pseudo-Spanish.
It's been said that most accidental deaths were brought on by the phrase, "Hey, watch this!". Yep. Some of the most moronic activities in the known universe are performed by daredevil drunks. I'm not sure what compels these idiots to do what they do. Maybe they can't handle their booze, maybe they are just a little dumb to begin with, or maybe a little of both. One thing is for certain, they 100 per cent convinced of their abilities.
Regular booze hounds would never even think to come up with these stunts even if they are shithouse plastered. They usually just want to go home and sleep. The daredevil on the other hand, can be found on a rooftop somewhere trying to jump into a pool (and usually missing the mark). Maybe you can spot him doing 60 miles an hour on a BMX bike while grabbing onto the back of a truck. You might attend a closed coffin funeral after he taunted a bunch of rabid pit bulls. Maybe there was a mishap at a knife throwing contest, it doesn't really matter , because as the Darwin awards so succinctly put it , " Those improving the gene pool by removing themselves from it."
6. The Heckler.
This particular brand of retard can be found at any live music venue. If you can't see him, you sure as hell will be able to hear him. Repetitive shouts of "Woo-Hoo!" fill the air, and the band hasn't even started yet. When the band starts, he ramps up the decibel levels on the woo-hoos and shouts out lame requests to the band ( these are the same goofs who yell out "Skynyrd" at Rockabilly shows).
They often turn into a one man mosh pit as they step on toes and spill people's drink. His evening will be short however, cuz he's gonna get his ass whupped at one point.( I witnessed this first hand at the Rodeo Bar in New York, the heckler too stupid to be aware that it was a bad idea to act like a buffoon in a room full of greasers).
Often the ass whuppin' will be performed by the band when the heckler gets on stage and starts wailing into one of the microphones. He can be found on the street later on doing impromptu raps or trying to break dance, thus encouraging even more beatings.
8.The Mean Drunk.
These angry drunks can be found most anywhere. They have been known to start brawls at weddings and funerals. I don't have a psychological analysis, but more than likely, these animals are sociopaths to begin with. Throw some hard liquor into the mix and you have a volatile combination.
The Mean Drunk usually just unpredictably snaps. This is manifested by glazed eyes and the taunts usually favored by these mullet clad baboons: "Whut'r yew lookin' at, slick?" and " You think yer better than me?!". At this point it doesn't really matter who is standing there, this dude wants to fight.
There is no way to calm down this angry lunatic, it is a waste of time and hazardous to try talk sense to him. There are a few solutions, however. If he's not as tough as you, beat him senseless immediately and the problem will be solved. If he is equally tough, buy him a few drinks (spike one for good measure).
If he is way tougher than you, get some gal to show him her boobs. This always appeases this barbarian on a primeval level. As he is drooling you can sneak up behind him smack him in the head with two by four and then get the hell outta there.
9. The Hobo.
This boozer's insatiable requirements for alcohol are astounding. He can be drunk all night and all day and still be standing. After downing a forty pounder of vodka he will make his way to the liquor store to get beers. You can see him wavering at the cash register as he counts his change over and over. Some hobos have an ATM card, and it can take them upwards of twenty minutes to enter the PIN number.
If you should be unfortunate enough to make eye contact, he will engage you in some pointless bum conversation laced with cliches and addled rhetoric. If he gets close enough, you will be assaulted by bad breath that could drop a cow at forty paces. He will eventually make his way to the park where his hobo buddies await him, mooching cigarettes on the way there.
A lot of these uber-alkies can be found in their natural habitat, the local skid bar. Worn carpets, the smell of stale urine, the absolute lack of music and chicks even drunker than them seem to be oddly alluring to the hobos. They will sit there for hours on end, shouting gibberish at each other over the din of background noise while drinking cheap-ass paralysis inducing draft beer. They will have some beer for breakfast the next day and do it all over again.
I'll see you at the local bar. Cheers.