Philosophers
      and
      Sociolists
      Crawl
      with
      the
      Politicians
     
     
      by
      Brad
      DEIGHAN
     
    
   
   
    
     
      The
      unusual
      events
      described
     
     
      in
      this
      chronicle
      occurred
      at
      Oran,
      no
     
     
      sorry,
      Charlottetown.
      Anyway,
      it
      hap-
     
     
      pened
      on
      Friday,
      February
      15,
      and
     
     
      began
      with
      the
      herding
      of
      a
      colony
      of
     
     
      crawling
      pubsters.
     
    

    
     
      Our
      colony,
      composed
      of
     
     
      cramped
      and
      claustrophobic
      left
      and
     
     
      right
      wing
      radicals,
      hoarded
      each
     
     
      other
      into
      the
      barn
      to
      meet
      and
      polite-
     
     
      ly
      debate
      the
      future
      of
      the
      human
      race.
     
     
      Human
      race?
      Sorry,
      should
      read
      drink-
     
     
      ing
      race,
      right
      Ralphy
      baby?
      I
      mean,
     
     
      come
      on
      now,
      really.
      Our
      numbers
     
     
      were
      almost
      equivalent
      to
      the
      amount
     
    
   
   
    
     
      of
      decades
      will
      take
      our
      goverment
      to’
     
    
   
   
    
     
      realize
      that
      free
      education
      and
      its
      long
     
     
      term
      benefits
      are
      more
      important
      than
     
     
      the
      lumps
      of
      cash
      spent
      on
      golf
      cours-
     
     
      es
      for
      retired
      politicians
      and
      other
     
     
      such
      “economy
      boosters.”
      Actually,
     
     
      we
      really
      only
      had
      twenty-three
      peo-
     
     
      ple
      and
      a
      few
      extra
      brain
      cells
      -
      brain
     
     
      cells
      that
      would
      be
      jettisoned
      in
      larger
     
     
      and
      larger
      mental
      clusters,
      leaving
     
     
      brainless
      bodies
      sitting,
      their
      gross
     
     
      greedy
      rotund
      hands
      and
      round
      chub-
     
     
      by
      fingers
      attempting
      to
      clutch
      and
     
     
      drink
      overly-emptied
      beers
      with
      over-
     
     
      ly
      emptied
      minds,
      .
     
    

    
     
      Our
      first
      stop
      was
      at
      Casey’s.
     
     
      This
      was
      nice;
      we
      tore
      apart
      un-sliced
     
     
      Greco
      pizza
      and
      chewed
      the
      scraps
     
     
      while
      beginning
      the
      drinking
      races
     
     
      and
      checking
      out
      the
      live
      mullet
      enter-
     
     
      tainment.
      It
      was
      good:
      the
      students
     
     
      drank,
      they
      talked,
      and
      the
      bartender
     
     
      washed
      the
      tables
      for
      them,
      maybe
      in
     
    
   
   
    
     
      hopes
      of
      getting
      them
      back,
      but
      more
      -
     
    
   
   
    
     
      likely
      to
      wash
      off
      the
      stuff
      that
      was
     
     
      crapped
      out
      of
      their
      mouths
      on
      the
     
     
      table.
      We
      did
      after
      all,
      have
      future
     
     
      politicians
      with
      us.
     
    

    
     
      After
      this
      we
      headed
      to
     
     
      Dooley’s
      to
      shoot
      pool.
      After
      Dooley’s
     
     
      we
      walked
      down
      to
      the
      Inn
      on
      the
      Hill.
     
     
      Wait,
      we
      walked
      up
      the
      hill
      to
      the
      Inn.
     
     
      This
      was
      my
      favorite
      spot.
      It
      had
     
     
      karaoke
      and
      old
      people.
      We
      met
      up
     
     
      with
      another
      pub
      crawl,
      the
      psycholo-
     
     
      gy
      pub
      crawl,
      and
      believe
      me,
      it
      got
     
     
      wild.
      People
      were
      getting
      up
      and
     
     
      singing.
      People
      were
      dancing,
      talking,
     
     
      yelling,
      drinking,
      and
      running
      to
      the
     
     
      washrooms.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      a
     
    
   
   
    
     
      oy}
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      The
      author
      with
      his
      new
      friends
     
     
      from
      the
      Inn
      on
      the
      Hill.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      really
      was
      fun:
      old
      people
     
     
      with
      guts
      and
      golf
      shirts
      know
      how
      to
     
     
      take
      their
      spectacles
      off
      at
      party
      time.
     
     
      They
      showed
      us
      how
      to
      do
      everything,
     
     
      including
      serenade
      your
      friends
      with
     
     
      hot
      music
      from
      the
      bronze
      age.
      They
     
     
      even
      dropped
      tips
      on
      how
      to
      score
     
     
      with
      tamatoes—whatever
      the
      hell
      that
     
     
      means:
      (1)
      get
      your
      fat
      wrinkly
      friend
     
     
      to
      sing
      a
      slow
      grating
      romantic
      song
      in
     
     
      the
      wrong
      key;
      (2)
      proceed
      to
      slow
     
     
      dance
      with
      the
      old
      lady,
      and
      slur
      to
      her
     
     
      over
      your
      beer
      gut;
      (3)
      do
      not
      crush
     
     
      her
      toes
      like
      last
      week
      and
      the
      one
     
     
      before;
      (4)
      slur
      to
      her—over
      your
      beer
     
     
      gut—you
      didn’t
      step
      on
      her
      feet
      like
     
     
      last
      week
      .
      .
      .
      and
      the
      one
      before
      (5)
     
     
      pop
      a
      Viagra;
      (6)
      pop
      a...
      Oh
      yeah,
     
     
      no...
      Shit!
      Goddamn
      Viagra!
      Go
     
     
      home
      and
      sleep
      on
      the
      couch.
      Yeah,
      I
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      The
      pub
      crawl
      was
      a
      great
      success.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      know
      what
      you’re
      thinking,
      but
      what
     
     
      do
      you
      think
      it’s
      gonna
      be
      like
      when
     
     
      more
      people
      can’t
      afford
      to
      go
      to
     
     
      school.
     
    

    
     
      We
      left
      The
      Inn
      and
      regretful-
     
     
      ly
      rolled
      down
      the
      hill
      to
      the
      Harp
      and
     
     
      Thistle,
      peoople
      werrse
      gettiiinsg
     
     
      drunnsk
      on
      sstartinsg-g
      to
      slurrs
      ansd
     
     
      therse
      micx
      worsds,
      but
      that
      didn’t
     
     
      stop
      us,
      it
      only
      boosted
      our
      moral.
      We
     
     
      hung
      out
      at
      the
      Harpy
      for
      a
      little
      while
     
     
      and
      people
      got
      louder
      and
      dumber,
     
     
      less
      sure
      of
      their
      surroundings
      and
     
     
      unsure
      as
      to
      whether
      they
      were
      sure
      of
     
     
      this,
      unsure
      of
      it,
      or
      only
      but
      at
      least
     
     
      semi-sure
      of
      it.
     
    

    
     
      After
      this
      trip,
      the
      revolution
     
     
      was
      headed
      toward
      another
      place,
      but
     
     
      a
      small
      portion
      of
      us—those
      too
      far
     
     
      gone
      to
      go
      any
      further,
      and/or
      those
     
    
   
   
    
     
      who
      hadn’t
      gone
      far
      at
      all
      —-were
     
     
      invited
      back
      to
      the
      house
      of
      a
      girl
     
     
      called
      Mister,
      where
      more
      substances
     
     
      were
      consumed,
      along
      with
      many,
     
     
      many,
      more
      brain
      cells.
     
    

    
     
      The
      night
      ended
      that
      morning
     
     
      with
      everyone
      sprawled
      unconscious
     
     
      on
      couches.
      That
      left
      me
      in
      my
      not-as-
     
     
      sober-as-before
      state
      on
      a
      journey
     
     
      back
      home,
      a
      journey
      that
      proves
      to
      be
     
     
      more
      difficult
      when
      you’ve
      expended
     
     
      all
      you
      money
      on
      shit:
      booze
      and
      fine
     
     
      Chinese
      food—a
      journey
      made
      more
     
    
   
   
    
     
      difficult
      by
      the
      fact
      that
      all
      brain
      cells
     
    
   
   
    
     
      had
      been
      jettisoned
      during
      the
      last
     
     
      rounds,
      leaving
      a
      brainless
      body
      aim-
     
     
      less
      in
      the
      office.
      Sorry,
      street.
      How
      I
     
    
   
   
    
     
      was
      to
      get
      home
      I
      just
      wasn’t
      sure,
     
    
   
   
    
     
      semi-sure
      really,
      but
      even
      of
      that
      I
     
     
      can’t
      be
      completely
      sure.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Showing
      at
     
     
      City
      Cinema
     
     
      this
      week
     
     
      Training
      Day
     
    
   
   
    
     
      and
      —
     
     
      Chunhyang
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Times
      and
      Descriptions
      at
     
     
      www.citycinema.net
     
     
      368-3669
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ®)+D
      =
     
     
      GRABBAJABBA
     
    
   
   
    
     
      137B
      Kent
      St.
      (Next
      to
      the
      post
      office)
     
    
   
   
    
     
      FOR
      1
      COFFEE
      /
      2
      FOR
      1
      SANDWICHES
     
    
   
   
    
     
      with
      this
      coupon
      (excluding
      specialty
      coffee)
      Expires
      March
      15,
      2002
     
    
   
   
    
     
      GOOD
     
     
      ‘GRADES
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      (22
      eee
      a
      Ee
      oe
      ee
      es