Holy fucking fuck. So I
stumbled walked into the bar and calmly planted my ass on my favorite stool, ordered my usual, and I hear some words that I pretty much just ignored. I then ordered my usual AGAIN, and once more … I’m hearing just BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH … I mean what the fuck. C’mon, man … Finally, I decide, well, maybe I should actually pay attention to what I’m being told since I still have yet to have a beer in front of me.
“We have no Hamm’s.”
“Say what, mother-fucker?”
“Talk to the distributor.”
Holy fucking fuck. Yes, I said it again. The Rail is out of Hamm’s. Now you could order a buttery Hamm’s, but, well, that’s your choice.
One funny outcome, however, is that River Rat decided to announce this on The Brass Rail, uh, “announcement board” — for lack of a better term — and instead of writing “No Hamm’s”, he wrote “No Hamm’s Hats”. When questioned about this, he thought about it for a second and realized that he just kind of wrote it without thinking about it. I find this amusing and poignant at the same time.
So there you have it. Stay tuned for further details.
Oh, and P.S.: New chips. So you got that goin’ for ya.
Here’s River Rat serving up some delicious tasty aluminum goodness for a happy patron. And look at that — he decided to dress for the occasion. Now I must confess I don’t know the whole story behind this particular shot — this pic was forwarded on to me by the lovely Margarita — but I assure you he ain’t opening up that can for himself. Oh no no no … there is absolutely NO drinking behind the bar. (There are also no Matties allowed behind the bar, but that’s a different story.)
Not only is that a despicable unlawful practice in and of itself, but if a Brass Rail bartender were to make such a foolish move, the camera would slowly pan to a shot of Fu Dog sitting in his recliner, taking a nap, when all of a sudden his eyes would suddenly burst open with laser beams shooting forthwith. Word to the wise: Don’t mess with Fote. He can kill you WITH HIS MIND. True dat. I saw it once.
Twizzler! A jack of all trades. Or a queen of all trades? This lovely lady won a Busch hat and then proceeded to wow the crowds with a demonstration of her martial arts skills. Ya gotta love a sophisticated chick! Oh. But then she married Coulter. Ah well. Ya can’t have everything.
Ya like the rock? Ya like the roll? Ya like the Hamm’s Hats? Then this post is for you. The other day the band No Bails out of Kalamazoo played in town on a tour, and naturally, they decided to hit The Rail. Cuz who wouldn’t? And guess who won a Hamm’s Hat? Lindsey, their drummer, that’s who. Fuckin’ A.