This fraggle snaggle whipsnap crackerjack is brought to you by the Triple Bottom City Council Forcible Temperance League. Your muncipality is overrun by the foul fiend that leads men astray and women to gladly accept this; the horrible specter that both destroys families and makes them more tolerable; the stygian goatlord that makes dull conversations inescapable and bar tabs incalcuable. DEMON RUM! ALCOHOL! THE TEMPTRESS BOOZE! What can you do to stop this flood of depravity that's sure to drown the good, God-fearing, terminably boring people of YOUR town? Normally, a gang of sour faced spinsters would take axes to the sin barrels of your hell-taverns, releasing the townsfolk from degradation and fun. The Triple Bottom City Council Forcible Temperance League goes ONE STEP FURTHER. From behind bushes, they will spring, punching the potential gins from the guts of tipsy passers-by! Tumbling from trellises, they strike, smashing the bottles of obviously alcoholic babies, the filthiest of drunkards! A manhole explodes from the street and a gang of black clad special operations grandmothers, armed with bottle openers, dismantle a still like piranhas on a limping tourist! This is your fate! This is your future! Free of booze, full of terror, it's the Triple Bottom City Council Forcible Temperance League! HIYAAH!
And! The leaves are turning, the days are waning and your lungs are filling with the sort of viscous ichor that normally fights Conan the Barbarian at the bottom of a temple pit. Get a head start on the melee with Dr. Feelgood's Tubercular Confectionary! Ask for it, steadying yourself on a handrail, by name.
As always, the Clockwork Cabaret winds her way up the stairs of the lighthouse to light the beacon, calling home her wayward sailor from tempest tossed seas, but she well knows that his life, his love and his lady is the WCOM LP Chapel HIll & Carrboro. Oh Mandy, you're a fine girl, but I'd rather hang out with a bunch of dudes in the middle of nowhere.
