In Jersey Jerks, @HughBlanton5 takes a switchblade to Robert Pinsky’s Jersey Breaks, a memoir full of street cred, gangster lore, political name-dropping, and enough self-congratulation to fill a private dining room. Not the smaller private dining room where he swaps stories with presidents, the big one. @GorkoThe thegorkogazette.com/2023/07/…

Friday. Optimism. Drinks. Confidence. Karaoke. Regret. Saturday. Hair-of-the-dog. Jameson. Capitan. Bad-decisions. Tacos. Nap. Sunday. Anxiety. Aspirin. Existential-dread. Football. Bloody-Mary. Denial. Monday. Fuck.

It’s hard to tell if bartenders really missed me or are just saying that to be nice. I may be reading into this, but I always sense a bit of a sarcastic tone that roughly translates to "Shit! Not you again."

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Today, we honor his legacy by taking the day off and getting lost. Some people say we shouldn’t celebrate Columbus. I say we should be grateful for the discovery that changed history. Namely, a dimly lit bar with no windows, no clocks, and a bartender who doesn’t ask where you’ve been. Happy Columbus Day. I, too, have lost track of the New World.

I just realized that I barely like football. But put a dollar on a game and suddenly I'm screaming at strangers in a bar and on television like they've personally threatened my family. I guess I'm only a buck away from caring about anything.

Every Saturday, I watch the hungover twenty-somethings and divorced cougars shuffle into the bar to retrieve the credit cards they left behind. The bartender and I get a pretty big kick out it. When I walked in at 11 a.m. today, Joe slid my card across the bar. Son of a bitch! I just went from being a regular to being a punchline that will never end.

I guess I'll be drinking to James Edward Eifling Jr. today. westfieldchapel.com/obituari…

Nothing says “I know bourbon” quite like lecturing the bartender about your preferred small-batch, single-barrel, twice-blessed Kentucky bourbon while drinking it from a clear plastic cup that says “THIS BUD’S FOR YOU.” At a dive bar with ripped stools. And a bartender named Lefty. Know your surroundings, Brad.

We’ve all been there. Sitting next to a guy at the bar who gets a few drinks in him and starts rambling about weird shit. @GaynordTeri sits with Hemingway, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Fitzgerald, Hunter S. Thompson, O’Hara, Plath, and Mary Shelley. They order their favorite drinks and share their darkest obsessions. dearbooze.com/cocktales/f/at…

Some people go to therapy to get better. Some turn it into a career. @HughBlanton5's hilarious review of Sean Hotchkiss’s “Hating Women” follows a trail of booze, drugs, failed relationships, gurus, and enough demons to buy a therapist a really nice boat. Hotchkiss thinks he’s teaching men how to build better relationships. But, the more appropriate lesson might be to NOT take relationship advice from a guy who keeps setting fire to his own relationships. Check out Hating Daddy Drama at dearbooze.com/cocktales/f/ha…

Wooly's. One and done. Pismo Beach. Crazy gal next to me explained why eye glasses are the work of Satan.

Bill's Place, Arroyo Grande. Super "Locals Only." I may, or may not have won 'em over. Either way, great day drinking experience.