What would you name your bar?

103
Boombats wrote:FORTY ACRES

It would cater to the ironic NYC kids, playing off their latent racism and trendiness of ghetto totems. I would have fridge upon glass-fronted fridge full of 40 oz. malt liquors, plus vending machines with plastic bling jewelry and giant sunglasses. We would charge around $5 per 40, have a brick wall in the back for smashing the glass, play whatever shitty electro-poop those trust fundsters are into, and serve white hipster kids only. The goal would be to ruin that generation completely, somewhat in the way the C.I.A. poisoned our ghettos with crack and heroin. There would be a flashing sign in the back saying "kill Whitey" but they'd never realize it isn't a joke.



boom - you are a genius. it has to be in brooklyn. and you have to charge $12 for a 40.

your posts have been much better since you quit drinkin and got a job. Salut.

What would you name your bar?

106
the$inmusicisallmine wrote:
Boombats wrote:FORTY ACRES

It would cater to the ironic NYC kids, playing off their latent racism and trendiness of ghetto totems. I would have fridge upon glass-fronted fridge full of 40 oz. malt liquors, plus vending machines with plastic bling jewelry and giant sunglasses. We would charge around $5 per 40, have a brick wall in the back for smashing the glass, play whatever shitty electro-poop those trust fundsters are into, and serve white hipster kids only. The goal would be to ruin that generation completely, somewhat in the way the C.I.A. poisoned our ghettos with crack and heroin. There would be a flashing sign in the back saying "kill Whitey" but they'd never realize it isn't a joke.



boom - you are a genius. it has to be in brooklyn. and you have to charge $12 for a 40.

your posts have been much better since you quit drinkin and got a job. Salut.


Ha, thanks. Oh and I forgot to mention there would be a stuffed mule tucked away somewhere in the bar, but of course the kids would have no idea what it meant.
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What would you name your bar?

107
tbone wrote:There's a joint down on the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri called "Big Dick's Halfway Inn,"...

On a similar note, there's a pub round the corner from my house called The Fawcett Inn...

My bar? Blow Hole
We'd all dress like water-based mammals. Dolphins, whales. On the hour, we'd all take a swig of beer and blow a spray in the air with big cheers, laughing at the inexperienced ones who choked, who would then have to wear the fake plastic harpoon through their head until they'd downed 5 pints of strong lager. The ceiling would drip with alcohol and rot away over the years. Every drink you ordered would have a pinch of salt in it with a small drape of seaweed over the edge of the glass.
"Whenever the words 'art' and 'rock' have come together, I make my excuses and leave" - John Peel, 2004

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