The Modern Drunkard
I was having a heck of a time finding bloggable drinking material last night. And then I stumbled across an old friend: Modern Drunkard Magazine. Its editor, Frank Kelly Rich, would appear to be a genuine drunk, but he's a funny drunk and can apparently write under the influence (as could GKC, so Rich is in good company). When I stumbled across the MDM site, I immediately a handful of drool-worthy articles that I hadn't read yet.
Like, "Welcome to BoozeTown. Dead Ahead: The drunkard's paradise that almost was." It's about Mel Johnson, a man in the fifties who tried to establish a city around drinking, "where it's always happy hour." The drunken utopia never took off, but he enticed potential investors:
Just imagine, he asks his audience, a resort entirely centered on the culture of alcohol. A boozer's paradise built expressly to facilitate drinking and the good times that naturally follow. Where the bars, clubs and liquor stores never close. Where the police force is there to help drunks, not hassle them. Where even the street names salute sweet mother booze: Gin Lane, Bourbon Boulevard and Scotch Street. An adult playground like no other. Just imagine.
Mel apparently thought of it all, even one of my favorite topics: the philosophy of money (what it is, why we have it):
BoozeTown would boast its own currency: visitors would exchange their US dollars for BoozeBucks upon entrance. Each buck would be backed by “liquid gold”–a vast vault stocked with barrels of whiskey at the BoozeTown Bank. The way Mel figured it, whiskey, as it aged, always appreciated in value, eliminating the possibility of inflation. No telling how the US Treasury Department would have felt about this grand notion.
Mel was eventually diagnosed crazy and institutionalized. Based on snippets throughout the article, it strikes me that the diagnosis was correct, but Rich leaves us with the impression that maybe it wasn't. You decide.
The Frugal Drunk
Everyone else is offering frugality advice during these hard times, so Rich figures, "Why not cutting-back advice for drunks?" He spits out twenty nifty suggestions, some of them even feasible. Samples:
Instead of spreading your money around, spend all your dough at one bar.
Regulars get benefits.
You can wheedle free drinks out of the bartender by telling him you just got laid off.
And in this kooky economy, it's entirely possible you'll get laid off more than once a week.
Consider switching from top shelf to well liquor.
Johnny Walker and McCormick's taste exactly the same after the 20th round.
Cut down on non-essentials.
Like vermouth. And olives. And glassware.
The Historical Drunkard
I don't know if Rich would agree, but it seems to me that MDM is a history magazine, with humor and editorial commentary on the side. I've read MDM pieces about Bogart, Andre the Giant, Prohibition, and many other historical topics (see this story about a drunken Roman Legion).
In this piece, Rich chronicles the rise and fall of three great powers: Ripple, Zima, and Billy Beer. Herewith, humorous excerpts from all three accounts:
Ripple. Ripple was merely an artificially-flavored, lightly-carbonated sweet wine drink weighing in at 11%. It was a wine cooler (before they called it that) with a bit of a bite.
The winos of the day generally preferred Gallo's more high-powered offerings: Night Train and Thunderbird. Ripple found much more acceptance with the younger set; it became the drink of choice for college kids (and their younger siblings) and made headway in the black community as well.
Ripple's pop culture impact was considerable. Fred Sanford (Redd Foxx) of the popular sitcom Sandford and Son led the charge, declaring his beverage of choice “the national drink of Watts.” Fred improvised all sorts of splendid Ripple cocktails, including Mintchipple (mint julep and Ripple), Cripple (cream and Ripple), Champipple (Champagne and Ripple) and Manischipple (Manischewitz and Ripple).
Zima. Had Coors pitched more to women, men would have shrugged off Zima as a “chick thing” and would not have lambasted it so savagely – when was the last time you heard a guy get worked up about the relative quality of a particular brand of purse?
Billy Beer. Despite millions of dollars of free publicity, things began to fall apart almost immediately. After the first round of curiosity buying, word got around and sales collapsed like a dynamited bridge.
Billy Carter and PBRBilly wasn't exactly helping matters. One of the downsides of employing a “straight-talking” drunk is he's likely to go off script. That's providing he's read the script. Or if he's even aware there is a script. Billy had the nagging habit of getting up in front of a gang of reporters and confessing 1.) he still drank PBR and 2.) he must have been drunk when he chose the flavor of his own beer.
It was akin to Pete Coors showing up at press conference sucking on a forty of Bud and declaring “Rocky Mountain spring water” was just fancy industry code for donkey urine.
Hopefully, MDM has gotten you primed for the weekend. Now go out and hoist a few this evening.
