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Floogle
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As the quasi-official high-roller of the lowbagger movement, your Uncle is required from time to time to keep you abreast of cultural phenomena of which you, by nature of your miserable social condition, may be unaware. One of these concerns the cocktail known as the martini. It is, according to my druggie friends, the heroin of alcoholic beverages. For some reason, it fries your brain faster than possum cooking on the engine block of a speeding Camaro in Recently, The martini has been a victim, nay, a harbinger of inflationary trends. For a long time, the price at your average saloon was about $2.50-$3.50, depending on whether the gin used was Idaho Silver or Bombay Sapphire*. Then the drink became increasingly popular and, like a glass of wine, the $5 ceiling was breached. A frenzy of very chic, very non-martini drinks was then foisted on the naïve public (chocolate, for gawd’s sake!) and prices continued to escalate. Your government denies that inflation exists, of course, and they can back it up with statistics. One of the most important of these is the so-called “Consumer Price Index” which totals the prices of any number of things we buy an do and then divides it by pi. Included in this “CPI” are the following: A) Broccoli B) Lettuce C) Brussels Sprouts Items excluded from your government’s calculations are as follows:B) Automobiles C) Sports Events D) Romantic dinner for two E) Martinis A) They told me I had to wear a jacket to get into the bar. (I, like you, don't own such a thing, but they had a few ratty-looking ones on hand as loaners.) B) I ordered a martini. placed a twenty on the bar, and received nine dollars in change. At first I couldn’t believe my luck. It must be, I reasoned, Happy Hour, drinks are a buck, and the bartender mistakenly thought I’d given him a ten-dollar bill. When I brought this to his attention, he smiled and said that no, the drink was eleven dollars and would I care to write the owner and complain? Well, I could, couldn’t I? And, so could you. According to the Lowbagger Philosophy (a Work-in-Progress…watch this space), eating the rich is almost mandatory. Here’s all you need to know:
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Restaurant, Finally, no, I didn’t keep the jacket. I know; a real lowbagger would have climbed out the rest room window and sold it to recoup at least some of that eleven bucks. I told you I was a high roller. *A real martini is made with gin, not vodka. I don't care what James Bond says. |
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