HOOTERS...for the wings.

I met a pal and his most recent target at a Hooters bar a couple of days ago. My pal thinks I am a snob, and that may be, but that is not the reason I have never been to a Hooters before.
If I want a beer, I am not likely to trek to the neighborhood by the Boston Garden to get it. This evening, however, I wanted a change of pace, so I suggested we meet at our local Hooters. He brought the target, a young lady who enjoys both the wings and the breasts that you get there. If you have never been there, here is what you need to know about the Hooters on Friend Street:

1. They don't serve liquor. I ordered a ginger ale and a whiskey. The waitress said that they don't have ginger ale or mixed drinks(?). I said, "OK, then just the whiskey." She said that they don't have whiskey, either. Mmm, I thought. "I'll have a Coke, then." "OK, one Bud Light?" "No, a Coke please...."

2. The wings are not very good, at least compared to a place that make good wings. The onion rings are not very good, either.

3. Hooters are good, and here I mean the noun, not the chain. The fact that Hooters has hooters is great, but hooters are good under any circumstances, in any establishment, in any weather. Yayyy, hooters!

4. Nylon stockings, white socks and sneakers remind of a girl I met in eighth grade. Orange nylon shorts speak for themselves.

5. Like NASCAR, Walmart, professional wrestling, and other white trash culture, Hooters has a place in the dichotomy that is modern American life. Where else can you bring your 11 year old son before the basketball game, have crappy beer, and ogle 21 year old girls spilling out of their tops, all before going home to catch some porn on cable?

Again, nothing law related here, just a musing.