There’s nothing funny about drink minimums
Drink minimums make me think of strip clubs. Strip clubs make me feel dirty. By the transitive power of logical inference, then, drink minimums should make me feel dirty. Which they do, sort of — just not in the I-hate-to-see-you-subjugating-yourself-like-this kind of way. More in a defiant, dumbfounded, I-just-got-taken-advantage-of kind…