A horse walks into a bar, across the room, up the back wall, across the ceiling, down the front wall and then up to the bar. The bartender gives the horse a beer, he drinks it and leaves. Stunned and perplexed, a guy sitting at the bar asks the bartender: "Hey, what the hell was that all about?" The bartender replies, "Don't take it personally, he never says 'Hi' to anyone."Up until last Friday, my view about going to a bar was this: I don't get it.
Since I don't frequent one, the likelihood of me establishing a rapport with a bartender or any regulars at such a place would be very low. If a bar does not have a television set that I can train my eyes on or an inexpensive jukebox, it would be an establishment less for my consideration. If I were to get together with some folks or friends socially, the place would have to not be so loud that I cannot enjoy conversation. Granted, I deem a bar and a night club to be two different things.
I wish someone would have explained and articulated to me the appeal of heading out to a bar as a means of having a "good time". Really. I would have dared anyone to persuade me about any virtues or of the psychological necessity of it. I would have pitied the attempt.
I didn't get it. For me, it was an appealing thing to do for a long time. I do not know how this disconnect occurred. I know it's been a gradual process, though. It's been going on for quite some time. The best way that I can explain this is akin to comparing it to clothes that I was wearing twenty years ago or the way I wore my hair then.
I look at old pictures sometimes and I wonder, "What the hell was I thinking of?" To my credit, everyone in those pictures, however, always seems to have the same skewed sense of sense.
Whether it's my evolution or my de-evolution, I do not think the same way that I thought just ten years ago. I'm convinced, however, that I'm diametrically away from being a fuddy-duddy, a curmudgeon or plainly unhappy. I just believe that on some things I'm getting very practical and pragmatic about. The "bar scene" is one of them.
I believe that some things that I make observations about, will be studied about in classrooms in the far future and will be deemed odd and puzzling about our times. Wonderment will fuel debate and discussions as to why people did or allow certain things to occur. I'm pointing to things like the above described "bar scene", conducting parades, wars or killing people over religion, circuses, hang-ups about race and homosexuality, Paris Hilton.
A few hundred years from now, anthropology professors in classrooms will lecture about today's network television programming and those future students will watch with guffaws, incomprehension, pity and sadness about its content and the appeal it had on today's masses. The delivery of it will not be the subject of study and hardy debate; it will be the content of it.
The unsophisticated plotlines, the unreal timelines, the pandering, the strict length denominations, the psychology and marketing of the commercials will reflect on all of us poorly.
I sometimes find myself surfing across some of the junk between 8 and 11 p.m. and I catch myself cynically saying and thinking..."yeah right". How will history judge present society about its need for a "laugh track"? How will they judge us when they see local news anchors tritely and banally converse with each other between news reads and laugh and smile about nothing, and learn that it was deemed necessary for mass appeal?
I hope that those future types don't lump everybody today so curiously simple-minded. I hope that if they were to delve into the study of the demographic make-up of whom this type of programming appealed to, that I and others would safely belong to some aesthetically-aware type of minority. Puuuulllese!
What brings all this up?
After a long day at work last Friday, I walked into the house only to realize that I'll be quickly doing a U-turn. I walked in the back door and realized that our longtime and well-liked baby sitter, Jessica, is at the house. My short-lived immediate thought? Wifey must have gone somewhere with some girlfriend(s) of her’s and I've got some alone time to myself in front of the Yankees, the Nets, the Mets, "Syrianna" the movie that's been living in Tivo for too long that I've not gotten around to watching yet, beer and whatever leftovers there may be in the refrigerator.
Nope.
I heard Wifey come down the stairs and she's all dolled-up. She's wearing one of her perfumes and she wants...."to go out". We had a bit of a rhubarb over a classic misunderstanding the night before. This is her idea of quickly getting back on track.
In paraphrase, this is what she machine-gunned to me: "I've got movie tickets if you want to go see a movie. I've got that gift certificate for Broccolini's in Madison if you're hungry and want to have dinner. Jessie says she's prepped to stay here all night if you want to go dancing somewhere in the city. Or......you can take me out to a bar, you can buy me a couple of Cosmos and after that, you can check where I've dabbed the Cinnabar".
Ahhhhh! A bell rang. It all became apparent and all so clear to me. Over the years, I’ve forgotten and overlooked everything about purpose and utility.
Bars were created especially for people like me. Cavemen with primitive visceral needs. Bars are specifically the place for me: the self-styled pseudo-aestheticist. The subject of future study, examination and laughs.
Hey, guess what? It was a no brainer. I chose a bar.
Today is Friday again.
*!*
posted by JerryNJ @ 4:58 PM
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