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Banbury Cross

a pillow for lost thoughts...

Post details: McKeever's

McKeever's

Every Sunday, unless I am out of town, busy, crippled or possessed, I play soccer with a bunch of mostly foreign guys at the Spring Hill Recreational Park. After the game, the Czech contingent usually makes a beerline for McKeever's to replenish lost liquids with a few glasses of cold gold. Especially on a sultry summer Sunday. And you know it is a sultry summer Sunday when everybody wants to play a goalie.

McKeevers is a little Irish pub, not far from where I work, nestled in the middle a short passage on Old Dominion, right behind the French restaurant Tatti. It is a classical pub with its bar besieged by numerous bottles of exotic liquors, the curvaceous glassy harlots trying to pry into the fancy of the pub's patrons. Dark wooden panels divide the room into cozy compartments, each equipped with matching wooden furniture. The hem of the surrounding walls is adorned by antique pencil drawings of feeble looking men in belligerent postures of boxing. And the beer foam is circulated by a Material Girl, who cascades down the narrow aisle and wears her youth like a beacon.

Our table always turns into a miniature Czech bubble in which we drink Czech beer and tell each other dirty Czech jokes which, if translated, would cause a hefty lawsuit or, in countries of more oriental inclination, even a severed limb. But as the tally of cool Pilseners increases, I start noticing different things: there is Shere Khan purring under the table on a heap of beer coasters and chewing on threads of string cheese; there is the rusty book of life with a red rose on every page; there is the trio of miniature stunt bears dancing on a silver spoon, and there is the wickery of old times gently weeping into daffodil bags (no, I don't know what "wickery" is either, but it is there).

And then, of course, come the brilliant ideas!

You know how sometimes they infect you with a mild form of a disease so you body develops an antidote. I think it is called an inoculation. Why can't we use the same principle for say mugging. Everybody will get lightly mugged by a professional pediatric mugger at the age of 10 and then for the rest of their natural life they'll be perfectly immune to all forms of violent behavior, whether they stroll the sidewalks of Bronx or East St Louis.

Hmmmm, I better get it patented before I sober up.

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