This one is obscene. Offensive. Sickening and flat out wrong.
Men’s Health magazine recently did a statistical study ranking America’s Drunkest Cities. The number one city in the country, based on their fuzzy math, turns out to be none other than… Fresno, California. Fresno, California?!? It’s true, folks. But that’s just the tip of the ice cube.
The least drunk city in America, out of 100 cities ranked, in terms of alcohol abuse and resulting, associated difficulties?
I am insulted. Pissed. Thirsty as shit.
Are you fuckers serious? Have you not been to the South Boston St. Patty’s Day Parade and had green vomit splashed down the back of your high tops recently? Have you never sat in the bleachers at a Red Sox game? I mean, 9 out of the 10 people living in my house as a kid were alcoholics. So were 9 out of the 10 living next door.
Seems to me this study is deeply, obviously flawed.
First off, what the fuck does anyone reading or remotely involved with a magazine called Men’s Health really know about drinking, anyway? Does a man interested in his own health eat Gummi worms soaked in Captain Morgan’s for an after dinner treat? Can that sort of man pack in 9 tacos and a half gallon of vodka during a hockey game? I think not.
Anyway, the criteria for determining how drunk your city is, according to the lightweight chicken chested little pricks at Men’s Health, as follows.
I can refute all of these numbers.
First off, with all due respect to Fresno, we here in Boston can handle out liquor. That’s probably the number one factor throwing these numbers askew here. There simply aren’t as many deaths due to liver malfunction because drinking is such a fundamental part of out Irish Catholic heritage that we’re genetically predisposed to be able to handle it. Our livers don’t degenerate when we drink they just pickle. Preserved like a specimen in formaldehyde.
Similarly, we don’t die as often in alcohol related crashes because we, quite frankly, know how to drive drunk. You can’t hold it against us that a town like Fresno can’t handle their shit, people. We can. It’s easy. Know where the cops are hiding (or drinking). Know the back roads that will keep you off the highway. Use every last ounce of whatever judgement you have left. Doesn’t hurt if you know a good 24-hour breakfast spot, either. Taking it slow and steady is the key to it all.
Which brings me to binge drinking.
Admitting to binge drinking isn’t something that should figure into this at all. Binge drinkers aren’t drinkers, they’re assholes. Embarrassing idiots who have no clue how to work up to and savor a good blackout whatsoever. Any decent alcoholic knows you need to take it slow and make it last. I mean, if you’re going start boozing at 9:30 in morning, binge drinking isn’t going to take you anywhere but back to bed. No, a good Boston alcoholic has stamina, folks. We’ll see the sunrise before we see the inside of a toilet bowl where your average binger is passed out by 11. Lightweights and posers, all.
When it comes to DUI arrests, well, there’s something you folks have to understand and if you paid close attention to The Departed, you would. In every Boston family there is at least one State Cop who you can call to get you off the hook when the time comes. It’s just the way it is. “Uncle Billy? Hi, it’s Ken. Do me a favor and make a call on this for me and I’ll meet you at Sully’s for last call.” Tough DUI laws in Boston would be waste of the paper they were printed on. Besides, most of the judges, lawyers and cops are just as drunk as everyone. Half the time a statie pulls someone over it’s a co-worker.
What else? You think Fresno is a college town? Beside Cal State Fresno, they have California Christian College, the Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary and the University of Phoenix. We have Harvard, BU, Emerson, Boston College and M.I.T. (and if you think those geeks don’t pound them down, you haven’t seen their robots lately). They have the Fresno Grizzlies (minor league baseball team). We have the Red Sox, Bruins and Celtics. How much drinking do you suppose goes on at those games? Take a guess.
It’s not even close when you look at it. Boston is sodden and stinking with drink. It’s a stumbling old, sea shanty singing Irishman, red faced and smiling, full of music and revelry and culture out the arsehole. You can’t swing a drunken uncle without hitting a drunken aunt around here. If there’s any doubt of this, I would be pleased to challenge the entire city of Fresno to a drinking contest and see who’s still standing when the sun comes up. And I don’t mean against the city of Boston, by the way.
I mean against me.
My place. Next Saturday night.
Line ’em up, bitches.
I would also like to note, by the way, that the researcher on this misinformed, dubious bit of slanderous nonsense is someone named Kathleen Pennepacker.
Just make up your own joke on that one, please. The very thought is making me light headed.
And thirsty as hell.