Dear Lost Souls,
Our hour of matriculation has arrived.
Over five years ago, a lethargic band of four
Distinguished Deviants (Billy Rhyne, Chris Strain, Greg Dolge and Greg Delaune)
gathered on a Friday evening to toast the end of another glorious week in our
little corner of this big blue marble. Martini’s of the highest caliber
were formulated, tested and refined in a ritual of alchemy rarely equaled since
the dawn of human kind’s quest for the philosophers’ stone. With this
dogged commitment to the absurd, Friday Night Cocktail Hour was born. In
its early incarnations, Cocktail Hour moved about the East Bay, testing to what
degrees heredity versus environment impacts the subtleties of the dry
Martini. Finally, a special temple facility was conceived of and executed
at 2107 Hearst Avenue. The dimensions, specifications and orientation of
the temple were painstakingly executed to craft the ideal environment for the
specific rituals to be performed. It was then decreed that such a fine
and noble endeavor must surely be shared with those who we held closest and
dearest . . . or short of those who we held closest and dearest . . . shared
with any willing soul we could dig up in our local bar, on street corners, on
planes, at mass festivals of open debauchery, during foreign or domestic
travel, random passers-by or anywhere else we happen to stumble across
potential Celestial Mariners of like mind. Many of our first meetings
were tirelessly devoted to selection of an appropriate title for our weekly
communion. And while, no doubt, many brilliant names that captured the
sprit and genius of this solemn undertaking were discussed . . . and maybe even
selected, the only name anyone could ever recall after the fact was “The
Haberdashery”.
We now stand at the tale end of this grand experiment;
with five years of reveling pressing against our collective spine. Ass
backwards we take that first tentative step into the future unknown. From
its beginning, a fundamental motivation for Cocktails Hour has been a committed
(but hopeless) attempt to pass on the generous hospitality I have experienced
during my travels, but can never possibly repay. The Last Cocktail
Hour will be our humble attempt to send each of you on your merry life’s
path, armed with positive karma to distribute liberally . . . if not liberal
karma to distribute positively. So . . .
YES! . . . my Fellow Haberdites, Cocktail Hour is on
for this Friday evening. And you are invited to come hoist a glass, one
last time, in the comforting shade of the Haberdashery’s canopy of low
expectations. As part of the final festivities, we will be featuring our
usual smattering of formage, krekkers, chips, dips, nuts, berry’s and
such. In addition, we will be firing up the barbecue for one last roast
and toast. Beyond that, there is a danger of some specialties from south
of the Mason Dixon and maybe even a bread pudding . . . if you ask nice.
We will have some communal grill items, but please feel free to bring along
your pound of flesh (whether it be vegetable, animal, or mineral) to throw on
the grill. The grill will be fired up at 8pm and Cocktails will be served
at 7:30pm.
Technical Note: Immediately following this email, you will all receive a digital
copy of a composite picture of the photo wall. I am sending it separately
in case it is too big for some of your email accounts.
As always, please feel free to stop by for
a quickie en route to your chosen Friday venue or to linger indefinitely . . .
Yours,
Greg
P.S. For the greener among us . . . oh screw it, if you
haven’t found the place by now, I just can’t help ya.
