Notes From a Dive Bar XIX

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Bar Economics 101

Commerce

He's gruff and hairy and does not want to pay. Flat out refuses.
Beer should be free, he says.
It is, I say. It's always free tomorrow. Three bucks, now.
He pulls out a used pornography magazine.
Will you take this instead?
No, I say. I'll only accept the obscenity of money.
What about this? he says.
I don't smoke pot.
He hands me a half-eaten Subway sandwich from last year, remarkably well preserved.
No.
Oh, come on, he says. I'll give you the whole lot for the beer.
So let me consider your barter for a Budweiser, I say. I can sneak off and masturbate to Juggs, then lie down and smoke weed, followed up by a Subway sandwich with a half-life of 500 years as a remedy for the munchies.

He grabs the beer, takes three wild gulps, and flees through the door before I can agree to his generous offer or chase him down like a bull charging a bear in the market.

Credit

Do you take plastic?
Only in human form.
What about American Express?
That will do nicely, but we don't accept it.
Visa?
Only when traveling overseas.
Mastercard?
No. The guy who owns the dive is a submissive.
Discover?
HaHaHaHa.......x100.

Supply

The boss is mad. In more ways than one but really very mad today.
Who took this fake f*ucking hundred? he thunders.
My fingerprints are not at the scene of the crime.
It looks like it was printed at f*cking Kinkos! he bellows.
Flames are shooting out of his ears.

Sure enough, Ben Franklin looks like he needs the ink changed on his printer. There is nothing tender about the boss' rage. He likes to smash things up. He needs immediate intervention or he will batter the telephone with a baseball bat until the bell rings no more.

Calm down!, I say. Here's a magazine for you, smoke some of this, and then eat this sandwich. I'm sure it tastes very good. You'll feel much better..

The supply chain of late stage capitalism -- sex, drugs and Subway sandwiches.