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Since the dawn of time philosophers have debated, “What is a bar? What is a restaurant?” Sometimes there are no easy answers. There can be a very fine line between “bar” and “restaurant.”
So what?! Who gives a shit?! What’s in a name?!
Mainly the presence of shitloads of filthy little varmints. That makes this issue one of no small consequence.
As always I will cover all points of view as if to give the reader an understanding of the issue. I will be fair. I will be impartial. I will be partially inebriated.
Also, as always, illumination will be provided by Wikipedia:
A bar is a retail business establishment that serves alcoholic drinks — beer, wine, liquor, and cocktails — for consumption on the premises.
A restaurant is a business which prepares and serves food and drink to customers in return for money …
There we were in a mystery business of some sort. Was it a “bar” or a “restaurant?” Let’s find out. It’s Litmus Test Time boys and girls!
A now a true story from the guru archives just because I can…
It’s weird how so many of my father’s interests became interests of mine. A lot didn’t, much to his disappointment, I’m sure, but some stuck. Things like wristwatches (he was a Rolex man), scuba diving (I’m a certified open water diver) and photography. My dad loved his 35mm SLR Pentax cameras. And no, the 35mm is not some lens spec. It describes the type of film that went in the camera.
Back then if you wanted a certain ISO, you had to buy that kind of film. It wasn’t just a setting on some fancy digital piece of electronics.
Eventually I’d have a Pentax of my own, which I still have to this day, although it’s been over 10 years since it was last used.
There was this one time we took our family vacation to Southern California. Among other tourist things we did, we visited a little place called Disneyland and that’s where this scary tale begins…
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I tweeted 24 times on Thursday, August 25, 2011. In those tweets I deftly weaved a grand tapestry that captured the limitless spectrum of human intensity. I did it all. I was sweet. I was tender. I was grosser than a fart joke. I was funny. I was witty. I was ironic. I was sarcastic. In short, I was a Twitter version of the Renaissance Man.
Along the way I personally went on a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride of human emotion and, I think, the arc of my tweets reflected this.
The day started like most any other: Literally making myself physically ill at the mere thought of going to work. (I have to face the possibility that I may not have the best attitude about my job.)
But then, something weird happened. My morning was acceptable, I was left alone enough, and somehow I got in a pretty good mood.
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