It turns out that I write this here column for a little more than free beer. Last month, it was named “Best Column” (for a circulation under 50,000) at the Association of Alternative Newsmedia’s annual AltWeekly Awards in New Orleans. I wasn’t there to stumble up to the podium and give a slurred speech, unfortunately, but my editor graciously accepted it on my behalf, although I requested Nicole Kidman.
It’s not my intention to gloat or brag, and I’m certainly not fishing for compliments, but I do have a few demands for Mayor Greg Fischer … if he wants me to stick around this fair city and not be swept off into the brain drain. I know he’s busy twittering about downed power lines and such at the moment … and balancing our budgets … but perhaps his staff could politely remind him of my requests on a weekly basis until he’s got time to meet me at the Back Door for happy hour.
Let’s start with the keys. I’ve been begging for keys to the city since I moved here 12 years ago. I’ve seen them given away to D-list celebrities, distinguished humanitarians and visiting heads of state. I tried to broker deals with Mayor Jer for years … but that got me nowhere … except for an awkward moment involving princesses and Larry Birkhead on the Belle of Louisville during the Great Steamboat Race.
But now there’s someone new in office — someone who believes in clean slates and still has hope for a new bridge (isn’t that cute?). So how about it, Greg? Will you present the Bar Belle with keys to the city? I promise to use a DD when necessary, and I will always call if I’m going to be out past midnight. I represent everything you should want this city to be — fun, talented and hungover.
I’d also like my mug on the side of a building — like Diane Sawyer. I’m willing to compromise on location — I think I could liven up things at the city jail, but if you want to put me somewhere more appropriate, like on the side of Phoenix Hill Tavern or stenciled on that new bridge you’re going to build, I’m OK with that. I think I’m good with the hipsters (although I watch “Big Brother”), so even if you want to stick me in Germantown, I’d be eternally grateful, although I might demand a monthly power-wash.
My last demand is minor — I want a day named after me where everyone in the city could have off and enjoy happy hour prices all day long. We could call it something like “Bar Belle Appreciation Day,” “WWBBDD (What Would Bar Belle Do Day)” or “Fastest 24 Hours in Sport Drinking Day.” Your choice, of course. We could cut ribbons at every watering hole in town! If that’s not supporting local business, then I don’t know what is.
Thank you for your time and consideration, Mayor Greg. I will have my people call your people names. Don’t let anyone piss on your leg and tell you that you can’t build that bridge. If love can, you can.
Fingers crossed the mayor recognizes my genius like the people at the Slugger Factory recently did. After reading my plea for a purple Louisville Slugger bat a few months ago (aka a “purple pimp stick”), Rhonda K. and some other kind Slugger folks made me a bat that bourbon-soaked wet dreams are made of. I’ve been patrolling the streets, alleyways and restrooms of Highlands bars ever since. I’ve managed to knock down some high beer prices and frighten some frats. For a beer, you can touch it. For a shot, you can take a swing.
Drunk Texts of the Week
• Dont worry … urinating on the sidewalk is only a pissdemeanor
• [email protected]
• Light my jagerbomb bitch!
• Dont masturbate to my awesome dance moves
• Sorry I didnt hold your hair, I thought you were saying Bachmann to the toilet
• Girls get soggy in milk
• Cropdustin at gerstles