Lou's Official Investigation Into THC Canned Cocktails and the Labor Racket You Have Been Accepting as Normal
I have filed a report. I want that on the record before we get into this. I submitted a full grievance, with line items, to the appropriate authorities. Nobody has called me back, which tells you everything you need to know about the system, but that is a separate investigation.
The subject of the current report is this: you are paying a bartender to open things. That is the job. That is what we have decided, as a society, is worth fourteen dollars plus a tip that guilt has inflated to twenty-two percent. Someone reaches out their hand, removes a cap, pours a liquid, and slides it across a wet piece of wood. And you are handing over money like a man who has never once questioned anything in his life.
I have questions. I have several questions. I have written them down.
The Line-Item Grievances (Official Record, Page One)
First grievance: the twist of a cap. You are paying for the quarter-turn of a human wrist. A motion that requires less effort than sneezing. A motion that, if timed, clocks in somewhere between one and two seconds. We have decided this is a skilled labor event. We have decided this warrants compensation. I am not finished being angry about this.
Second grievance: the pour. Someone tilts a bottle. Gravity does the rest. Gravity, I should remind you, is free. It costs nothing. It has been operating continuously for approximately four billion years without sending anyone a bill. And yet here we are, subsidizing a human being for pointing a bottle at a glass and stepping back.
Third grievance, and this one I have circled in red on the official report: the garnish. The theatrical, unrequested, completely unnecessary garnish. I ordered a drink. I did not ask for a rosemary sprig standing at attention in my glass like a tiny soldier who has lost his mind. I did not ask for a dehydrated orange wheel. I did not ask for a sugar rim, a chocolate drizzle, or a little paper umbrella implying I am at a beach I am clearly not at. They charged me for this. They charged me for a decoration I did not request, attached to a glass I did not need, poured from a bottle I could have opened myself.
I want my money back. All of it. Going back to approximately 2003.
Exhibit B: The Ice Situation
I will keep this brief because my blood pressure is a consideration and I have been asked to manage it.
Ice is weather. It is cold weather, frozen into cubes. The sky makes it. The planet makes it. You can make it in a tray you bought for three dollars at a hardware store. And yet the modern bar has decided ice is an ingredient with value, worth packaging into a drink you are already overpaying for, contributing meaningfully to a price that has no floor and apparently no ceiling either.
I am not paying for weather. I am not paying for weather twice. This is my position and it is final.
What I Am Not Paying For, Specifically
I have found a solution and I want to present it without drama, which is difficult for me, but I am trying.
Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned comes in a can. The can is already sealed, which means the work of opening it is mine, performed by my own hand, at no additional charge to anyone. The drink is already cold. No bartender tilted anything. No garnish appeared uninvited. No ice was billed as a premium ingredient. Eight milligrams of THC, the correct amount, already inside, waiting calmly.
Nobody twisted a cap on my behalf and handed me an invoice for the experience. Nobody stood in front of me in a vest, announcing the drink's ingredients like they are reading from a will. The can does not require a tip. The can does not upsell me to a larger size. The can is not going to ask how I am doing tonight and mean absolutely none of it.
I crack it myself. I drink it. The night gets better. The math is clean.
That is what the Variety Pack is, by the way, for anyone who wants to conduct their own parallel investigation into bar economics from the comfort of a chair they already own. Four flavors, sixteen cans, zero labor fees, zero theatrical garnishes, zero conversations about where the bartender went to mixology school. Just the drinks, cold, already perfect, waiting for you to do the one second of work that nobody in this country should be charging fourteen dollars for.
The Closing Statement (Also Submitted to the Authorities)
I am not against bartenders as people. This is important to clarify because my report was very stern and I do not want it misread. I am against the pricing structure. I am against the fiction that a pour of liquid is a service event requiring significant compensation per glass. I am against dehydrated citrus appearing on my drink like a little hat nobody asked for.
The THC canned cocktail did not invent a better bar. It just removed the part where you pay someone to stand between you and your drink and act like that is a normal arrangement.
It is in the fridge right now, if you want to see for yourself. Open it. It takes one second. Nobody is going to charge you for it.
My watch stopped in 2009. It has been right twice a day every day since then. That is a better record than most people, and it has never once asked me for a tip.
The report remains open. I am watching.
For adults 21+ only. Hemp-derived THC. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please enjoy responsibly and check your local laws.
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