Word: whiskeys
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Player's Club Dios is buzzing. The band is knocking out R.-and-B. Christmas tunes, waiters are bustling around with bottles of whiskey and plates of smoked duck, and the white leather banquettes are crammed with men in dark suits whooping it up with pretty young women. It's just another party spot in a city of party spots, except for one obvious difference: when a drink is poured, it's done by a very deferential man for a woman paying big money for his attentions...
Gore's stand-in is Warren Christopher, the man who put the elder in statesman. He's so dull, he ordered Irish coffee during a layover at Shannon Airport with the instruction, "Hold the whiskey, and make it decaf." His very presence undercuts former Secretary of State James Baker's dire warnings that if we persist in this crazy "unconstitutional" recount, markets will collapse, world leaders will wobble and general mischief will abound. In Baker's view, the bipartisan counters are secret croupiers itching to stack the deck. There are more surveillance cameras than in a Las Vegas casino...
...intoxication (and towards a Motel 6), with tatooed-up indie rock fans and prepped-out 20-something ladies and gents nodding their heads and quaffing brewskies in syncopation with Southern Culture's twangy guitar riffs and rapid-fire drum beats. Beer (and, one would hope, the more appropriate whiskey sours) were washing down heaping handfuls of "Banana Puddin'," a Southern Culture favorite, which some female fans obligingly flung off the stage during the performance of the band's serenade to the delectable dessert (the group is also known for slinging fried chicken off the stage during shows). Continuing in their...
...place where you imagine the singer to be. It couldn't fit the Possum better. You see Jones slumped over a table in a seedy apartment above an equally seedy bar in some Texas downtown. With one hand on his brow and the other on a bottle of cheap whiskey, he laments his aching for alcohol and the pressure and embarrassment this dependency has placed on his wife, who slings drinks in the aforementioned watering hole...
What gives Bush's plea for less partisan bickering its appeal is that the bickering did become personal, thanks to impeachment, and does sound loud, thanks to television. The time when Tip O'Neill argued revenue sharing with Ronald Reagan during the day and drank whiskey with him at night has given way to the city as a sound stage. On cable, every night is fight night where, before you tell the other side your objections to a bill, you're telling Ollie and Geraldo. The camera not only makes it harder to work out the differences, it encourages them...