Apocalyptic Thoughts on the Human Tail, and Getting Sloppy on the Sabbath

(photo courtesy: bachelorfrog.com)

Georgians no longer need to attend an Episcopal Mass to get a nip of alcohol before 12:30 on Sundays.

One of the few remaining stalwarts upholding "Blue Laws"- or religiously-fueled mandates to protect the sanctity of the Sabbath- the State of Georgia recently put to ballot the ability for counties to decide on repealing or upholding these laws. From the overwhelmingly Christian perspective, the sale and consumption of alcohol had been deemed disrespectful to the observance of a holy day. No outcry, however, against Sunday travesties like that dancing FOX NFL Sunday robot, or- most perverse- the continued airing of American Dad.

As of this Tuesday, the voters spoke with a nearly unanimous voice to tear down these teetotaling walls. Being a non-Presidential/Senatorial/Congressional voting year, literally tens of patriotic pollsters made it clear that their bloated, groaning livers would not remain silent.

Previously, alcohol sales of any kind in any retail establishments were illegal. Restaurants, bars, and other on-premise establishments could not serve until at 12:30 PM, leaving only 30 minutes of tour de force guzzling to prime one's pump for an afternoon of yelling at the TV.  Damn Cleveland Browns.

So, what does this all mean?  Well, people in qualifying counties and municipalities (not all have held the vote yet) can buy booze on Sunday.  At least, after 12:30 PM.  Compromise is a bitch.

But what does it really mean?  So much more than religion.  Something that may bring down civilization.

I've seen Georgians on Facebook celebrating like we got Osama Bin Laden or American Dad got canceled.  To me, I see just another convenience advancing the laziness of humans.  And that, my friends, is why we're never gonna see it coming.  The robots will become self-aware.  We'll all be too drunk, throwing empty cans of swill at the TV, because the remote is out of reach, and damned if American Dad doesn't come on right after those NFL games.

Georgia's new law is an evolution of convenience, and one that will make our instincts dull.

Take the appendix, for example.  Or, even better, the tail.  At some point, humanoids had tails.  I mean, we have tailbones now, so it's reasonable to say we had tails (and it's far too late for me to go researching the missing link.  Plus, have you ever Googled "homo erectus"?  Not the savory, scientific results you'd expect).  A tail is used as a counter-balance for a tree-dwelling creature or one that walks hunched-over.  At some point, the humanoids began to walk more upright.  Having nothing to counterbalance, the tail- once essential- became obsolete.


Native Georgians have always had a sixth sense.  An instinctual advantage, if you will.  The "Sunday beer" impulse is one that drives a Georgian- without the bottleneck of reasoning- to buy extra beer/wine/liquor on Saturday night.  I've personally lost count of the number of times I'd had no plans to drink anything on a Sunday.  Yet, there it would always be: a squirreled-away 6-pack of Coors Light tall boys in the crisper.  Don't even recall buying 'em.  Indeed, an acorn for hard times.

Now, having no need to rely on survival instinct, Georgians will do like the rest of the nation and become soft.  And drunk.  Vulnerable.  To terrorism.  To robots.  Even zombies.

Think I'm crazy?  Watch the show The Walking Dead.  Zombie apocalypse.  And as the drama unfolds, the writers have yet to tell me how it all started.  But I know one thing:  the show is set in Atlanta, a place where alcohol sales have recently been approved on Sunday.  How's that for a theory?  This, my friends, is ground zero.

So take your new "freedoms", Georgia.  I'll stick to my instincts.  And I'll be enjoying a six-pack of "Sunday beer" while you all are getting eaten by zombies on a Sunday afternoon at the liquor store.

Don't say I didn't warn you.