Pair o’ Lakes

We went to Pair o’ Lakes in the backwaters of Wisconsin. The lakes did not cover the road. The place is seedy. One-eyed Jack’s seedy. Our arrival coincided with the departure of a fellow wearing a Hustler shirt. I did not see if there was any writing printed on the back.

She ordered wine. She will be summoned to work at the perfume counter. The glasses are much more sensual than the one’s available at Tony’s in Spooner. More curves = more sex.

The following song was not played on the bar’s overhead music system, but should have been.

We’re a domestic Boston beer

Another snotty Boston beer

We’re a domestic fucking Boston fucking beer

and we’re here

at Pair o’ Lakes

to get your ass kicked

by surly rednecks

swinging broken bottles of Grain Belt Premium.

European travel is down 20 percent from last year… but maybe it’s not our responsibility to travel out of guilt, rather their responsibility to give us reasons to go. Reasons like booze and whores. Why travel at all when I can my fix in the backwaters of Wisconsin? I don’t need to go to Europe to get beat up by rude smelly folk, thank you very much.

There is a stuffed moose head over the bar with velvet antlers. It’s a shame that they would kill such a wonderful and rare creature. I’ll bet it used to do children’s programming. The hit show Moosey and Spigot. I watched it all the time growing up last year.