Happy Hour [20/3/20]

You don’t have to drink alone.

Most of us are stuck at home, our routines have been upended, and after a few days it’s boring as hell. As tempting as it may be to overindulge – no chance of a DUI, nobody to see you sloppy – I encourage you to drink responsibly. Binge drinking lowers the immune system, while moderate alcohol consumption may boost it. Enjoy a glass of wine, a beer or two, but I don’t recommend the quarantini. I think we’re all shaken enough.



  1. TIL..if you get pulled over for suspicion of DUI and your response to being asked to take a breathalizer is to cough at the cops and tell them you have corona
    you get 10 weeks jail and have to pay a hefty fine
    so if for some reason that seems like a good plan to you…i’d advise against it
    (im enough of an asshole to think its kind of funny tho…. good job asshat)

  2. So if someone were to maintain a blood alcohol level of, say, 0.5%, would that prevent contracting the coronavirus? Alcohol kills it, right?

    Asking for a friend. And volunteering for a clinical trial.

    • I found it amusing. My father got malaria in Africa during WW2. When I was growing up he used to claim he had to drink G & Ts as a form of preventative medicine, to keep the malaria from coming back.

      • That’s funny. My grandfather got malaria while he was stationed in California for flight training. Then he got another round of it in New Mexico for bombardier training. Never got it when he was in South America or Africa hilariously enough–although he did once make the mistake of walking into an abandoned hut that was literally crawling with fleas. Took him awhile to clean up after that event.

        Anyway, he used to make martinis (I’m assuming gin, but could have been vodka) when my father was dating my mother. He would ask my father if he wanted a martini and my father would always say, “yeah, and I like ’em dry.” Then, my father would invariably drink too many and make an ass of himself. This carried on for weeks, according to my mother, until one time after several dry martinis, he disappeared. A search party was formed and eventually my grandmother found him sprawled out on my 12-year old uncle’s bed, stripped down to his underwear and snoring like a freight train.

        My mother outlawed martinis, dry or otherwise, from that day forward. So, he just doubled up on the beer.

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