09 March, 2011

Pub Sounds Like A Dirty Word

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those only of the author and may only coincidentally reflect those of Mystic Metals, its employees, or associates. All responses should be posted as comments here, or mailed directly to the author, A. Robert Basile, at ihatebasile@gmail.com. Mail sent directly to Mystic Metals will not be read.



Pub Sounds Like A Dirty Word

3.8.11



I am at an odd conflict, kids. And here I go explaining it to you. Right now. You cats and kittens know that politically I’m pretty conservative. That’s not the conflict. I like being conservative, and hippies make my tummy hurt. The conflict is that I’m also an artist. One of my life goals is to get a stage play performed. I’ve written a couple, and they are all pretty fantastic. Recently, I’ve been gnawing on a comedy, and it’s funny, clever, and awesome. The conflict is that I have no money to get it made, and politically I think that the government shouldn’t be dumping grant money into things like stage plays. So, where do I get money for my plays? Suggestions? Donations? Rob a bank or sell drugs? I have a lot of prescriptions I can sell. Maybe I’ll do that. Who wants Prozac?

I have never been to Australia. I don’t think I have plans to go. Nor the money. And if I did have the money, I’d probably put it into that play I mentioned earlier. Unless it’s the Australia from The Maxx comic books. Then I’d go and check out the Outback Slug, Crabbit, and Isz. But I don’t think I’ll ever see that country, and it’s probably a good thing because I’m a big fan of the movie “Wolf Creek.” I read an article today that comes from near Sydney. No, not that guy Sydney that lives down the street from you who has been stealing your newspapers for the passed six years. He’s a dick. I mean the city in Australia. In a place nearby called Rouse Hill, a cat was refused entry into the Australian Hotel and Brewery. Why? Visible tattoos.

Apparently (well, I guess it’s not that apparent since this is the first that I’m mentioning it), hotels in Australia, specifically in this area, are cracking down on pub fights and alcohol induced violence. Good luck with that, Australia. Part of the figurative belt tightening is disallowing modified people to enter clubs and bars in hotels. Even though modifications like full sleeves and neck tattoos are seeing a slow boom in social acceptance in many parts of the world, the timber of this area is that we in the modified community cause problems. The ejected guy and his pal, understandably, were offended and called being asked to leave the bar, “a joke.” The besmirched modded cat went on to say, “This is a local pub, it’s not some exclusive nightclub.” That quote raises an interesting point. Is it a joke or does the mod ban make sense?

Whenever I read something about barroom violence between different groups or flavors of people, the only thing that stands out as a constant in all of the stories is the booze. I’m not entirely sure if it’s the modified people, the black people, the white people, the man people, or the women people that are the epicenter of saloon slugfests so much as it is the drunk people. And strangely enough (duck for the sarcasm), drunk people can be any kind of people. It’s true. I’ve seen it. Drunk whites and black, gays and straights, modified and unmodified. Funny thing about booze; it fucks everyone up. Yeah, yeah; I know you’re a tough guy and can drink fourteen beers and not feel it. We’re all very proud. But the common element in all pub punching is the booze. Does it matter what’s painted on someone’s skin when there is Jagermeister involved? (And probably a broad. There’s always a broad.) Does it matter what flavor of person it was who threw the first punch? If one redheaded person (Jay loves his redheads) picks a fight in my bar and everyone else in my bar is blonde headed (Dan loves his blondes), do I conclude that fights in my bar are instigated by redheads? Hardly. This isn’t to say that redheads never start fights, but it’s also not to say that redheads are the only participants.

The modded guy made the comparison between a local pub and a nightclub. There are some interesting ideas there. First is the pub idea. Here in the States, we don’t use that nomenclature as much as in other parts of the world, but to me, the word pub comes with a homey idea of a corner bar where the bartenders are familiar, Saturday night is usually packed with people you know, and you can wear your filthy workboots and flannel if you’d like. Nightclub strikes me differently. Nightclub is a thing where broads with too much makeup and too high heels swing their hair around and throw their arms into the sky as if the repercussions were few (anyone get that joke?). It is a place where sleazebag brochachos with their tight, designer brand t-shirts, dance behind dames they don’t know while raising a sexually frustrated Miller Lite into the air, showing off the Lake Michigan sized sweat marks under their arms. All while a fake, no talent musician (also known as a DJ) ‘spins the hot tracks.’ How close am I? Nightclubs aren’t my bag, and neither are pubs. But I don’t have much of a problem with a joint like a nightclub having a dress code, or rather a guideline for the appearance of their guests. But how can that be, A. Robert, you insane bastard? Well, please don’t call me names, and also, it’s a private business. They can do whatever they want. And isn’t the idea of a club supposed to come with some entitled exclusivity? If something is going to claim to be a club, that speaks to me as they have a certain limitation on who they want there. Country club, night club, book club. Maybe not a book club, but the point is there. Exclusivity makes things attractive to people, and no, I don’t think that it is insensitive. Can’t get into Club Douchebag? Go to Club Weirdo. There are plenty. It’s the people that want to bitch and complain that they can’t golf in one out of eighty clubs that are frustratingly myopic to the existence of the other seventy nine clubs.

Banning things is not my bag. Anything, really. Things I don’t even dig. I don’t drink. I haven’t had a drink in ten years, and I couldn’t tell you the last time I was drunk. It’s not my thing, I don’t like it, and I don’t really like being around it. Unfortunately for my job, I have to be. And I’d probably never see my friends again if I made a no booze policy. Thanks, friends. But I don’t want it banned. I don’t want the government to take away any rights that you and I have in which we can engage peacefully. Some can’t, for sure, but we have jail for those fuckers. Don’t put the responsible drinker in the same category as the cat who gets fuct up every night and drives a half hour home. Same thing with smoking. The government has limited my right to smoke so much that when I am standing outside of a place smoking down my after dinner cigarette in the rain and twenty degree weather, I am looked on as the scumbag. Similarly with modifications. Are there people with mods who act like cocksuckers? Absolutely. I know some of them. Are all modified people cocksuckers? Not really, no. If a bar wants to have a no-whatever policy, I can’t fault them for that. But to patently label modified people as the problem that stems from something that clearly gasses the flames (namely, booze) is irresponsible. The simple solution is that this is a non-issue. Go to another bar. The caveat to that is that you shouldn’t have to go somewhere else. I’m sure these guys who got kicked out of this hotel bar are good guys, but you know what; some places are just shitty when it comes to who they’ll serve. Especially when the law gets involved. That’s when the problems really escalate. When the law is telling you where you can and can’t go, then we are living in a state that is handing out hall passes for socialization. And that doesn’t serve anyone.

Does the bar have a right to refuse service to anyone they wish? Yes, and I’ll defend that to the end. Ought they? That’s an entirely different argument. Do I have to mention the myriad of people who are modified? The fathers and mothers and lawyers and doctors and artists and daughters and sons. Do I have to mention how the art and jewelry in our skin does not change the person who pilots each carbon meat bag? Do I also have to mention that we aren’t born modified, it is a choice? That we should know this kind of discrimination going in when we decide to get “Dick Whore” tattooed on our knuckles. I won’t mention any of that, especially how comparing mod discrimination to real life race and sexual orientation discrimination is absurd and as irresponsible as the issue we talked about today in this rant. Here’s a funny word: Emu. Stay beautiful, kids.



Source:

http://rouse-hill-times.whereilive.com.au/news/story/ban-on-tattoos-in-pubs-a-joke/








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