Saloon Society Update
Clip Job: an excerpt every day from the Voice archives.
December 24, 1958, Vol. IV, No. 9
by Bill Manville
Last week, on one of those black, rainy days that do so much for the local suicide rate, I got a letter from somewhere, Ringworm, Oklahoma, some terrible place like that. The guy wrote me that I had a lot of nerve spending all my time in saloons, and even worse, making it sound inviting and glamorous. Everyone in Ringworm (Oklahoma), when they went into a saloon, why at least they had the fundamental decency to be ashamed of it.
It made me feel down and depressed, and I went over to the College of Complexes saloon for a little encouragement ("A glass of encouragement, please, Terry"). I took out the letter and re-read it over my second glass. The stamp, appropriately enough, was canceled with one of those slogan that mean so much to people like my correspondent: "The family that prays together, stays together."
That seemed fair to me, and even, if it were true, you might say, a break for the rest of us. But why can't they just hang in there, in sweaty togetherness, and not write letters to me?
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