Tag Archive | dan lacey

Apples vs pears…holding your nose to vote (or adding ice)…a hint of corruption…but you have Absolut power…America votes and this bear gets shitfaced watching the election coverage

OMG, my American inebriate friends, I am so excited about your election. I wish I could vote! (Not that bears can vote in Canada.)

All our favorite alcohol purveyors are shamelessly on board with the election…

Two candidates. Who gets your vote?

Original! Original! Pear is just a grab for sweet-toothed underage drinkers!

 

Let your vote be heard. Neat or on the rocks?

This one’s a toughie. For Jim Beam I’m gonna say with ice. Sort of like holding your nose and voting.

 

Vota por Corona. Siempre la elección correcta.
(Vote for Corona. Always the right choice.)

Corona probably doesn’t have any business talking about elections. This marketplace bully with its light mediocrity is so ubiquitous that everyone can remember a party where there was nothing but Corona—even if they “voted” for something else. Kind of like a Mexican election.

 

The future begins with you.

Just remember, if you fill your head full of vodka before you hit the polling station, try not to spoil your ballot! And if they try to prevent you voting because you’re intoxicated, stand your ground, my fellow inebriates. Voting drunk isn’t illegal—just being publicly intoxicated, and they can arrest you after you cast your ballot. Bring your toothbrush!

 

HAPPY VOTING, MY AMERICAN FRIENDS!

One last image on this important day, not of alcohol but of art…

My belated contribution to the recent Horses and Bayonets post third debate meme; a new addition in my continuing (over the course of the past four years) Obama Unicorn series; a painting of a nude Mitt Romney riding on Rafalca the dancing horse and battling President Barack Obama nude on a unicorn                                                                 —artist Dan Lacey

 

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Rubb, Tugg, and Pull…little future Romneys?

My Fellow Inebriates,

Craziness has a talent for self-replication, which is why we (even Canadians) should keep an eye on Mitt Romney. Fundamentalists have a penchant for spreading their seed, and with wingnut Republicans such as Richard Mourdock sanctifying all progeny, borne of consenting relations or not, as gifts from God, we’ll need good names for the raft of new Republican infants who’ll one day cast their vote for some curiously inbred-looking Romney descendant chowing down on a corndog.

Mitt’s abstinence means we have to watch him stuffing his piehole with fast food and corndogs.
AP photo, Saul Loeb, AFP/Getty Images

Yesterday’s inanely metronomic pumpkin poem got my brain into a relentless rhythm that no amount of alcohol could derail. I spent this morning trying to channel that compulsion into another rhythmic project—thinking of awesome Romney baby names.

TOSS

FATT

NIBB

RATT

PUSS

RUBB/TUGG/PULL (triplets)

FIBB

PAPP

GITT

FIZZ

DUMM

GYPP

PISS

HELL (why not?)

BUMM

NIPP

SOGG

TITT

CUMM

SOTT

GAFF

SODD

BUTT

HEFF

RIFF/RAFF (twins)

WUSS

BODD

WIZZ

NUTT

BOGG

CUPP

DIZZ

MUFF

WOPP

FUZZ

GASS

KEGG

There must be plenty more, my fellow inebriates. The new generation needs these names. What’s missing?

Artist Dan Lacey’s response to President Obama’s recent comment in Rolling Stone magazine referring to Mitt Romney as a “bullshitter.” Click to see the whole gallery.

LBHQ: The year in pictures

OMG, my fellow inebriates, I almost slept through the my anniversary. Only by accident did I even realize this daily dose of randomness is a year old. Holy crap, how did that happen?

One year ago I had no idea what this thing was going to be about. Well, sure, I knew it would be about liquor, but I didn’t even have any idea what to say. Uh, liquor is good? The picture above was my banner, then this one…

Up until the blog, scenes like this defined my life:

But as the humans around me realized I was actually going to do this blog thing for real, scenes like the one below became more the norm. This day in November is still one of the most awesome I’ve ever had. My parents’ friend Pixie gave me a bottle of Crystal Head vodka—the best breakfast ever.

I loved that bottle, even though the vodka was kind of crappy.

But vodka wasn’t the only inspirational liquid to flow into LBHQ. When I learned our liquor store was no longer carrying one of my favorite products, Broker’s Gin, I hastened to contact Broker’s and ended up making one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I know Broker’s Gin Business Development Manager Julia Gale would do anything for me, as I would for her.

While I couldn’t have my beloved gin (and still haven’t got it, although I’ve cheated on Julia with at least half a dozen other brands this year), I did have art. In January artist Dan Lacey kindly sent me a print:

Blogging ideas often came unbidden…

But it wasn’t as challenging as you might think to connect subjects to alcohol.

Still, I had other obligations at home…

I lived in terror. When I wasn’t involved in “play,” I was listening to Scarybear’s prophecies about the end of the world. And then there was Fluffy…

Harboring the ghost of my dead Granny, Fluffy had arrived recently from Ireland. Our home would never be at peace again…bumps in the night, freaky cold spots, big wads of paper jamming up the toilet. Was there nothing Fluffy wouldn’t do to terrify us?

I needed distractions.

Some distractions were good, others not so good…

I tried to account for myself.

I had projects to do. Talking a bunch of gummy bears into (accidentally) a suicide mission was just one of them. (I didn’t know they’d melt in the Bacardi Big Apple.)

Depressed, I went to my friend Blackie for help.

I don’t think he’s a real psychiatrist. He’s not supposed to laugh, is he?

Another project that did not go well. So I just tried to figure stuff out.

I learned all about colonoscopies.

But I couldn’t figure this out.

We moved headquarters in August and my parents liquidated our already meager stock.

I don’t think my mother ever cleans the sink; it tasted horrible.

I went on a deep search for wisdom. I was lost, people. Living with functioning human beings who didn’t descend nightly into a drunken binge wasn’t working for me. I needed a message—some sort of message that everything was going to be okay…

I think it’s going to be okay.

Thanks for reading, my fellow inebriates! You’ve made me so happy this past year. Let me know what you’re drinking tonight 🙂

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