Join the Russian Army, see the world–through an alcohol-fueled haze.
Recently, some civilians got a rather rude wake up call when a tank crashed into the corner of their house. A cell phone video (unavailable) reportedly shows the tanked tank crew get out and start laughing. The tank had stopped in town to pick up more vodka, and apparently they completed their mission. The red-faced members of the Red Army then continued on their way, most likely merrily.
“‘Of course, there were violations but the crew acted in good faith to catch up with its unit,’ said Colonel Konstantin Lazutkin, spokesman for Russia’s Volga-Urals Military District.”
Well put, comrade, at least they got back in formation after their booze run.
Lawmakers know what’s really important to the public. They know why people elected them: because the people need someone to speak out on the big issues for them. One such issue is beer.
A Missouri state lawmaker wants to make Budweiser the official state beer. Because when you think the best beer an entire state can muster up, you turn to the bland, over-carbonated taste of Budweiser.
“‘We’ve got a state dinosaur, a state frog, a state reptile, a state flower, a state nut, but no one has given a thought to a company that’s been in Missouri for many, many years and is bringing prosperity to our state and manufacturing a product in our state that many people enjoy,’ Dougherty said.”
In other news, Missouri is looking to change its slogan to “Great Taste, Less Filling.”
Important parenting tip from The Guys: So your 4 year-old won’t stop whining and asking you questions while drooling on his or herself. Might as well get the kid drunk–not like they can slur their words anymore, right?
Don’t send your toddler to school smashed, no matter how much they beg for it. They may complain about how they can’t cope with the social scene, or say that it helps them sleep at nap time, or how their teacher is always busting their balls, demanding more reading time and less time playing with toys. But that doesn’t mean alcohol is the answer.
Wait until they are 6 before you give them their first nip. Because learning to walk is hard enough when you’re sober.
(Courtesy of Courtney P.)
Just in time for spring break bingeing (and/or purging), The New York Times reveals the science behind acting drunk.
In a nutshell:
Since multiple cultures use booze for different social functions, there’s no one real behavior that is produced by hooch. This is reinforced by studies showing that people who believe they are drinking will act drunk, regardless if they’re actually drinking the hard stuff.
So if you have any kids laying around, now’s the perfect opportunity to see what they think “being drunk” is. Just tell them that Ecto-Cooler is absinthe.
There was a time when I was a U.S. Olympic hopeful, my event: drinking. I would practice for hours and hours on an almost daily basis. I was good–really good. It didn’t matter if I practiced at home or at a bar. Often it was sometimes both. Nor did it matter what I and my teammates drank because we were pretty diverse in our tastes.
However, those days are over. Continue reading The McBournie Minute: I am past my prime
The people of China are fighting back! They are not going to take government oppression anymore. They have had it with being told what do to and how to do it, and they are tired of Big Brother watching everything they do on their lunch breaks.
In an act of defiance not seen in China since Tienanmen Square, a legal challenge, backed by the country’s liquor producers, is looking to overturn a ban on imbibing on lunch breaks in the Henan province. This blog supports the three (or five)-martini lunch, and would like nothing better than to see this ban free the Chinese people.
Where ever there is a ban on alcoholic beverages, consider SeriouslyGuys your own personal Tom Joad.
When a postman attempted to defend his drink driving (British for “drunk driving”) by claiming he stores booze like a pelican in a balloon in his throat, the court would have none of that. Instead, he was charged with driving while more than double the legal limit and sentenced to £600 (British for “$1,200”) and banned from driving for 18 months.
So, to recap: that’s one charge against alcohol (BOO!) and one against animals (YAY!).
Image: “Lunch Time” by Neil Gould.
We are gathered here this morning to discuss something very important in everyone’s lives, more importantly, other people’s lives. That subject is the beauty of a wedding and the free alcohol that comes with it.
This past Saturday I spent in Boston for a friends’ wedding. For those of you who have never been to Boston in February, I highly recommend it. It’s beautiful this time of year. It was an oppressively warm 26 degrees on Saturday, with not a cloud in the sky. Most of the snow had melted, leaving only salt and mud behind. This is why Boston’s tourism flourishes during February.
I am convinced that everyone who attends a wedding has one thing on their minds: “I hope this thing has a nice spread.” In this regard, some weddings are better than others. This is what can make or break a wedding for most people. On Saturday, I was not disappointed. There were roughly five courses, or plates, I can never remember the difference, and each one was better than the one before it.
But the best part was the open bar. There, I was free to imbibe as many Jack and Cokes as my liver desired (there was also some drink ordering for the date, as well). There is something mystical about an open bar and being all dressed up for an event. It makes you want to drink, but look fancy doing it. What may have been the smartest move overall at this wedding was there was no dancing, nor was there karaoke. I say this not because I was in danger of dancing or singing (though I was tempted on the Frank Sinatra songs), but because seeing other people do it can ruin an experience.
The year is still young, and by my count, I still have four more weddings on my schedule. May the brides and grooms have eternal happiness, and may the food at their receptions be excellent.
Remember those tornadoes that ripped through the South earlier this week, and how our own Rick Snee whined about nearly being killed by one? Turns out, if he really was scared for his life, all he had to do was start drinking the nearest bottle.
That’s exactly what one Tennessee man did. James Kruger was up late watching the Super Tuesday results on television when he saw a tornado warning for his county. Among his other preparations, he took a shot of whiskey. As soon as he took the shot, the tornado hit his house. He hit the ground and prayed for his life.
“Lying there, everything in the house flew over him, scraping and banging his back, Kruger said. Then the chaos stopped. ‘I was laying in the dirt. There was no floor. No nothing.'”
That’s right, there was no nothing left but Kruger and his buzz. Why was he saved? Most likely, because of the drink. Alcohol has been known to have strange powers over otherwise physical realities. It has the ability to play with the time-space continuum, prompting many philosophers to ask, “How the hell did I make it back here last night?” and “wasn’t she prettier when I was drunk?”
However, alcohol even has the power to inspire the evil genius inside us all. The drink inspired one man to threaten to blow up the city of Brisbane, Australia. The obviously inebriated man had a standoff with elite police units ranting about, amongst other things, that he had a device to trigger bombs all over the city.
That device? A television remote control.
Like The Guys, many Mexicans were muy triste y furioso at the news of their country’s oldest cantina shutting its doors. For those of you who didn’t know, after 150 years in service, El Nivel was basically kicked out by National Autonomous University of Mexico, who wanted the land.
Angry Mexicans and all-around drunk guys, or hombres borrachos, gathered on Tuesday to protest the closure. The protesters plan to petition the university and then the government to save the cantina because it is a “cultural and drinking heritage site.”
Ah yes, drinking heritage. Being the great-grandson of Irish immigrants, I remember when my father sat me down as a child and handed me my first glass of whisky. He told me, “Son, this is your heritage. When you drink this, you must always ramble on about the evil English and pick a fight with the nearest person or coat rack.”
(Note: This story is also being covered on our Spanish-language sister blog HombresSeriamentes.com)