Interview w/ Frank Rich – Editor, Modern Drunkard Magazine

SM: Should they pour alcohol on a street-side curb to commemorate your death, what would you prefer they use?

FR: Yes, except my homies would pour the well whiskey into their mouths. They’ve accidentally spilled enough alcohol for a hundred commemorations. I say well whiskey because it can always be found in a bar, which would remind them of me.

SM: Are there bars in heaven?

FR: Most certainly. J.C. bartends and St. Pete works the door. Wide open bar tab, no closing time, and loads of Sinatra on the jukebox.

SM: Are there bars in hell?

FR: Yes. All they serve is light beer in red-hot thimbles, and the jukebox is
loaded with techno.

SM: T.S Eliot, C.S. Lewis and William Blake are having a drinking contest. Who goes under the table first and who holds their liquor?

Eliot early into The Waste(d) Land you’d find
Lewis too would soon lie cold in The Country of the Blind
But Blake, ever the Tyger, would still burn bright
Deeper still into the lovely recesses of the night.

SM: What manner of animal are bartenders?

FR: Diligent hounds guarding a kerosene-soaked hen house.

SM: What manner of animal are drunks?

FR: Starving foxes with a working knowledge of fire.

SM: Please indulge us in an anecdote.

FR: Last week I offered a spare-changing wino twenty bucks if he would tell me the truest thing he knew. He started in on some rambling nonsense about always sticking to the straight and narrow, remembered he was a wino, then said, “Hey, if you’re going to dance with the devil, you might as well boogie down.”

SM: Laugh with the devils or cry with the saints?

FR: Rather, tequila with the devils and beer with the saints.

SM: What sort of pirate would you be?

FR: Popular but largely unsuccessful. We’d be too loaded to capture many galleons, but our rum parties would be the talk of the Caribbean.

SM: Please compose a brief poem (haiku preferred) on any subject.

Jack Daniel’s you swine
You swore you would never change
But where is the proof?

This is in reference to our current boycott of Jack Daniel’s because, in
face of 138 years of tradition, they have lowered their proof once again.
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