IF I: Ran a Bar

(Ahh, dreams.  What would I do if I could run my dream tavern?)
* We would have dollar Pabst night while streaming an Intervention marathon on Netflix.


* We would have one pool table, booby-trapped with two extra tight pockets out of six, and three or four sickening bumps in the cloth, that only the locals would know about.


* If an Irish Pub, call it The Dirty Potato. 

* If a strip club, open it in an abandoned garage, and call it the Body Shop.


* Drinks would have to be ordered in rhyme.


* Heritage Night, (for those people who like that kind of thing), would allow potables sold only by what your own ancient ancestors developed in their village, (sorry Red Paint People), however, if your father is Celtic-German, and your mother is from Barbados, we have quite a cocktail for you!  Russian-Italian?  All good, Baby.   Eskimo-Kiwi?  Not great.


* Of course the Sunday Ticket would show all football games on Sunday, but observing the day, we would disallow any noise being made during said football games.


* Don't e-mail me, I know.