Roe v. Wade meets The King of Pop

Say what!?


The names of the various bars in Fresno always conjure up a shudder and a pang of regret when I hear them.


Elephant Bar reminds me of the girl who invited me there and then promptly ditched me.


Cabo Wabo reminds me of the asshole who checked our IDs with a black light like he was in the FBI and wouldn't let my friend in because she had a passport ("This gets me into foreign countries but not into this shitty bar!?")


Pandora reminds me of Thanksgiving -- when I was homesick like crazy and stuck at a Fresno high school reunion.


BJs reminds me of when I first got here. I bought a round of shots for the people I was with and got the tab, 40 dollars.


Bliss reminds me of my friend St. Joe, who got a girl's phone number one night. She called two days later -- and told him all about her kids.


Ghaleb's reminds me of, well, Ghaleb's. The most overpriced hookah in the world, they won't let you change the TV channel even though nobody else is there, you can't order water without paying, and an ugly waitress will approach your party every 30 seconds asking if you want shots.


I've repressed the name of a hole-in-the-wall bar on Blackstone where the patrons made fun of us for not being old ("I bet none of y'all over 24! I could be yo daddy!") and I walked in the bathroom to find a man with no pants on clamoring around and mumbling to himself.


Fibber McGees.... ugh, old people.


A nightmare awaits at every turn.


Anyway, Roe lost their liquor license for 10 days. My nightmare story from Roe happened when we were hanging out outside one night. A huge truck pulled up (what TNJ calls a "small penis truck") and some people got out. We started heckling the driver about the unnecessary size of his truck.


Where I come from the driver would make fun of my tiny car in rebuttal and we'd all laugh. This guy ran directly into his friend (e.g. "hold me back!") and launched several empty threats at us. I think I cried that night.


They lost the license for a "string of incidents" including public intoxications (at a bar?... paging Ron White...) and assault (maybe the guy in the SPT actually came through one night). But I know the real reason:



It's the creepy Boy Scouts of America poster in the men's room!... This is, of course, Fresno's version of a Michael Jackson tribute. Ow!!!