Tag Archives: pubs

Pandemic humor.

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Because we all need a little chortle now and then.

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I hear ya sister.

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This is a brilliant idea.

I shall be cc’ing the CDC immediately.

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That’s pretty much been our last 10 months. You?

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Rode hard and put away wet.

Yup.

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This is almost too true to be funny.

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Wish that happened when I tried it.

Though I do firmly believe in sanitizing from the inside out when it comes to tequila….

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I’m just going to say this once.

 

And I don’t want to start a partisan political fight.

But I’m getting tired of people snarkily saying, “You know that’s not going to protect you.” every time I go out in public with my cloth face mask firmly in place.

Yes, I know it’s not going to protect me.… but it’s going to protect you against airborne infected droplets in case I’m asymptomatic, which apparently many of us are.

I protect you, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you protect me… and by default my older husband who has 3 major underlying health conditions that would make catching Covid 19 a possible death sentence. I’m not an alarmist, or a panicker. I’m level headed and calm, but when it comes to my husband’s life? I’m not taking chances.

 

 

 

 

I get that the economy can’t be shut down indefinitely. I understand people are suffering, and if I could trust them to protect others? I would have no problem opening businesses. But a lot of the people I know who are out there protesting in large unprotected groups have jobs they can work from home and steady incomes.

They’re just upset they can’t go out and play.

 

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Yeah…. let that sink in.

Pubs. In Ireland!

If the Irish can stop consuming their pints in public? I think Americans can deal with a little piece of cloth if it helps save lives.

And to those who say the crisis isn’t that serious because they don’t personally know anyone who’s ill? We’re relatively lucky in Maine, we have a low contraction and death rate, but even here…. in my small rural town? I know people. Our neighbor who lives behind us has it. Our neighbor to the left’s parents have it, one severe enough to require hospitalization.

It’s here.

It’s everywhere.

As this sad picture posted by a childhood friend who lives in NYC can attest.

 

 

There are no sympathy cards because there are too many deaths. If that isn’t the definition of serious, I don’t know what is.

Rant over.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Hey bartender….

 

*Disclaimer – This blog was written before the viral pandemic shut everything down.*

 

The following are subtle clues that let you know you might be spending a little too much time at your local pub.

1.    They greet you by name when you walk in, like they did with Norm at Cheers.

2.    They discourage people from sitting in your favorite corner spot at the bar.

3.    They hang a bell to ring when you give a good tip or buy a round.

But the least subtle clue of all?

 

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When the bartender is about to place an order with a new small batch craft distillery…

 

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And asks you which rum you’d prefer.

 

 

Distancing…. A definition.

 

According to the dictionary, the definition of distancing is:

To make someone or something far off or remote in position.

 

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Not a difficult concept… so maybe you can tell me why certain groups of people have such a hard time comprehending it.

( I realize I’m going to tick some readers off with this next part, but I’m sorry… the situation is ticking me off on a daily basis. )

The husband and I have been good little virus citizens. We stay home, alone…. and I have made 2 trips to the grocery store (and only the grocery store!) in the past 19 days.

This is the definition of social distancing… and if it’s what we have to do to save American lives? Then that’s what we’ll do.

So if I can’t go to my local pub and pray to the God of Tequila?

You can’t go to church and pray to yours.

 

 

My pub is closed. Shut up tight so groups can’t gather and spread infection. But your churches are wide open and hundreds are sitting side by side.

I know my bar stool misses me, but I can drink at home if I choose. So how about you choose to pray at home as well? I know it’s possible, my mother did it every night.

Here are a few examples of what’s currently ticking me off –

Our daughter of the heart posted a state of North Carolina alert which listed churches as “essential” places that could remain open.

In Washington state 60 people attended a church choir practice. 45 of them now have the virus, and 2 of them are dead.

A pastor from Louisiana said closing churches would be “discrimination against the faith”.

Coincidence that 12 days after he said this the number of positive cases in that state skyrocketed?

Maybe.

 

 

But for shepherds who are supposed to care for their flocks?

 

 

The two small churches in our town are offering online video sermons and outreach through social media. That’s the correct way to practice distancing and tend to your flock at the same time.

Common sense will get us through this.

Let’s try to have some.

White Mountains trip…. last night, last day, last post in the series.

 

A full day of resort hopping on day 7 made us hungry so we stopped at an inn near our resort that had a well recommended British pub/restaurant.

 

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The Jolly Drayman seemed inviting enough.

 

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And though it was a very small place with limited seating…

 

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I was willing to like it.

It’s a shame I couldn’t.

 

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What English pub worth it’s salt only has 1 British beer on tap? Where was the Harp? The Smithwicks? The Old Speckled Hen? Yes, there was Guinness thank God….

But Pabst Blue Ribbon? Come on!

It went downhill from there.

 

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A limited menu.

A disinterested, unfriendly server.

Uncomfortable seats.

 

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And the worst beef Wellington I’ve ever had.

 

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The husband had a not nearly hot enough beef stew ( with mashed potatoes?)  that must have weighed 12 pounds…  served in a fish bowl.

 

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Framed fart humor not withstanding….

I wouldn’t go back.

Day 8…. the departure.

One more breakfast under the canoe.

 

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And beside the twig lights.

 

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We checked out and said goodbye to the dangerous looking ski motif rocking chairs…

 

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And laughed at the resort’s wedding advertisement for the last time.

 

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Heck, that’s as good a reason as any… right?

 

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Through one more covered bridge…

 

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And because you know my husband can’t drive past an antique store.

 

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Funny part is, I went outside to wait for him because the owner was a crotchety old man I didn’t like the look of.

A few minutes later the husband comes out and I can hear that old man screeching his lungs out like a lunatic, cursing my husband from here to next Sunday.

Apparently husband had the audacity to take an old magazine out of it’s plastic sleeve and flip through it. Guess that’s a no no in the mountains.

Anyway, vacation over.

Home safe and sound with…. how shall we say?

 

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Some coffee and a few beauty products for my cabinets.

Hey, if they’re going to charge an extra $25 resort fee per day for that lousy condo?

I’m going to fill my suitcase on the way out.

 

 

The end.

(You may now officially breathe that sigh of relief you’ve been holding.)