QUALIFICATIONS TO BE A DRUNK BASTARD BAR
as deemed by drunkbastard.net

(1)  Under only the most extreme circumstances (ie. Social Distortion playing there, free hookers, etc.) should they charge a cover.  Covers are for suckers.

(2)  No dress code.  No one should give a shit if I'm wearing sneakers and a hat.  You really care?  Fuck you.  You're just going to spill something on yourself anyway.  And if you're worried about getting something spilled on you, stay the fuck home.  I'm getting drunk over here.

(3)  They have to serve food.  Bar food.  Not "Asian Crab Cakes With a Wasabi Chutney."  Wasabi this, OK?  Burgers (greasy), fries (ditto), wings (hot, really hot, and Oh-Fuck-My-Teeth-Are-On-Fire), grease, grease, and more grease.

(4)  Dark.  No one wants to be drunk when it's bright.  Especially if that brightness is emanating from the Evil Day Star (the sun).  Unless you're on the beach (ie. Lahaina Beach House).

(5)  Rot-gut well.  There's a reason why "call" drinks exist.  As long as the vodka doesn't dissolve the glass I'm drinking it out of, I don't give a rat's ass.  Kamchatka (Vitamin K to those of us who indulge) is just fine.

(6)  Pitchers.  Big ones, not the little rinky-dink oversized specimen cups they give you at bowling alleys.  A half-gallon of beer with a handle.

(7)  The back bar (where the "call" liquors are - see #5) should have at least one bottle that (a) you've never seen in your life, and (b) should be in the bar for so long that the label is losing its legibility.  You know, the kind where you ask the bartender, "What is that?" and he shrugs and says, "I have no idea, that bottle's been here longer than I have," and he started there when Nixon was president.

(8)  Optional:  A jar containing (a) some kind of alcoholic liquid, and (b) some sort of non-alcoholic thing (or things) floating in it.  Example:  tequila marinating with habañero peppers.  Have a shot, you'll never need to blow your nose again.  Ever.

(9)  Under NO circumstances (and I mean NO with big fucking letters fifteen feet high on fire on the side a mountain NO) should there be any music produced, written, or sung by: 

(a) five guys all wearing the same outfit; 

(b) five guys all wearing different outfits and one of them is named Justin; 

(c) guys who, until making that record, never picked up so much as a fucking kazoo their entire lives; 

(d) guys named either "Milli" or "Vanilli" (which one offed himself?  He was the smart one); 

(e) someone who created the entire album on their computer or other digital device (see (c) about not knowing how to play a fucking instrument);

(f)  Madonna or anyone emulating Madonna, following in Madonna's footsteps, etc.  Or for that matter, any person with one name (Sting doesn't count from when he was with The Police).  Meat Loaf (although it technically is two words) is on double secret probation;

(g)  anyone who's nom de plume includes the words "Ice" (ie. Vanilla Ice, Ice-T, Ice Cube, Ice-Down-My-Pants-Froze-My-Balls), "Lil" (Lil' Kim, Lil' Bow Wow, Lil' Cum Dripping Down Her Chin), or "Dr." (Dr. Demento is OK.  Once.  Per day.  At most.)  Also, anyone who can't spell their name properly - Outkast, Kriss Kross, Snoop Dogg, Ludacris, P. Diddy (what the FUCK is a Diddy?), or anyone who's name just sounds too fucking gay to be their real name (Englebert Humperdink, Gordon Lightfoot, Mark Anthony, Ricky Martin);

(h)  and while we're on the subject of ex-Menudo stars, if you hear a 14-year old girl listening to it, and it's in your bar's music selection, either (a) shoot yourself or (b) rip it from the CD player, burn it, and pummel the person who put it in there in the first place.

What I'm talking about, basically, is straightforward rock 'n' roll.  Zeppelin, The Who, Disturbed, Social D, etc.  Anything classified as "pop" is right out.

(10)  No blenders.  Frozen drinks are a creation of the devil.  If you have an X and Y chromosome and the words "Can I have a (frozen or blended)..." come out of your mouth, it's probably because a dick came out of it five minutes before.  Use regular ice cubes like everyone else.  Fag.  And if your date makes you ask for one or orders one, dump her.  Now.

(11)  Drink specials.  Any bar that doesn't at least run some kind of special (and not on Captain Morgan Parrot Bay drinks between 10 pm and midnight on alternating Sundays during months ending in the letter Q), or any bar that charges more than $3.00 for a well drink (see #5) is fucked.  Bars should be in the business of getting you fucked up, and how can you do that if you need to take out a second mortgage to do it?  By the time the loan goes through the party's over anyway and someone else is all over the girl you were going to hit on at the start.

(12)  There should be at least one neon, bar mirror, or other promotional item that was created and installed before you turned 21, or better yet, before you were born.

(13)  There should be at least one fat bartender on the staff.  I trust skinny bartenders about as much as I trust skinny chefs.

(14)  The bartender buys you a drink every now and then.  And when I say "every now and then," I don't mean once every six months.  This assumes that you frequent the establishment at least twice a week.  And unless you're tipping the bartender in paper currency and not your change from Taco Bell, don't expect more than the four-count.  Or for him to buy you shit.  Ever.

(15)  No measured pour spouts or jiggers.  If you ask for a drink and the bartender uses one of these implements of evil, turn around and walk right the fuck out.

(16)  All drinks (be it beer or booze) served in glasses.  What I mean here is a drinking vessel made of glass.  Not a plastic cup.  A bonus if the glasses for beer are frozen/really fuckin' cold.  Unless it's Guinness.  And if the shot glasses for cold shots are frozen, even better.  And kick ass if the shots themselves are frozen (meaning they keep the Jager, Rumple, etc. in the freezer).