Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2000 03:20:13 -0600 From: Rev. Tom To: beertuesday@thespleenpress.org Subject: [BEERTUESDAY] Let Us Pray Precedence: bulk
It was the best of Beer Tuesdays; it was the worst of Beer Tuesdays. We have been posting below average attendance numbers as of late. Not that I am saying this is good or bad, but I make mention because it reflects a curious anomoly in our tab. These were the totals when Nicole brought us the bill:
Food 81.10
Liquor 8.75
Beer 62.00
Tax 6.66
------------+--------
TOTAL 158.51
It should immediately strike the gentle reader as highly irregular that our beer/liquor tab failed to out-perform our food tab.
But the gods did smile upon us in other ways.
There were some very thrilling foosball matches pitting the virtuous Ari G-S and your pious author against the duo of the dastardly Mark Notarus and the long-haired obfuscator Chris Stamborski.
In the mean-while, over at the dart boards our cohorts discovered that two of the machinae had credits on them -- one machina of which had an obscene amount of credit which would send any ordinary person into a dazzling eruption of spontaneous combustion.
As the matches broke up at around one quarter past the hour of eleven, a brief conversation was created with some fellow players at a neighboring dart-board. A woman, who was dressed in a most cosmopolitan and chic fashion, was enjoying some rounds of darts with her quite mundane, dare it be said 'somewhat dopey', looking male significant other -- as she was seen with her arms around him and kissing him, that assumption was made.
Several minutes earlier, this woman had played a selection of popular music from the electronic music-box. One of the songs that she had selected was a classic arrangement by the Oak Ridge Boys. Based upon this empirical data, they were judged worthy to be privy to the secret of free matches.
But such was not to pass, as the young couple stated that they were finished for the evening. After some reflection on the subject, it becomes clear to why this outcome occured. The modern young lady was simply far too awed at the stroke of Divine Providence granting her the opportunity to partake of games which required not her good money. The dopey young man, on the other hand, found himself dumb- founded within the presence of the incarnate form of fortuitous fate. She felt as though she would squander her opportunitie while he felt powerless in the midst of a shining guiding hand of such gravitie as would allow him to grant such Divine favours. Or perhaps it was the beer.
Regardless, not wanting to go to waste the precious gifts of the gods, your author spent most of the remaining credits playing against the man who has been made to live inside the dart-board, Honest Ernie. It should be further noted for completeness of the historical record that Mr. Ernie lost the match two times twice -- or thrice plus one-third again as much. Or once, with a three-hundred percent mark-up.
At the end, there were credits which remained open. These were wisely left as offerings to the gods. Perhaps in time to come the gods will shine brightly upon us to grant us the constitution, personal fortitude, and strength of character to once again outdrink our food tab many-fold.
For this we pray
In the name of the Malt, and of the Hops/lw
and of the Sanctimonious Fermentation
which flows in the Bountiful Waters
forever and ever.
Amen.
Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2000 10:02:13 -0600 From: Brian White To: beertuesday@thespleenpress.org Subject: Re: [BEERTUESDAY] Let Us Pray
And from the ashes of a car body shop shall return the Destroyer of Beers. Hearing of such injustice I shall right the wrongs of the past, assuring that no food bill shall ever outweigh the pride of the beer. Although I am disturbed at the lack of faith displayed here, it seems as though only 1 or 2 people have partaken of the gift to all men, we shall retake the honor deserved of our great weekly joining.
>
> In the name of the Malt, and of the Hops
> and of the Sanctimonious Fermentation
> which flows in the Bountiful Waters
> forever and ever.
>
> Amen.
Amen.