04.11.2008
It’s official: no state-sponsored cocktail
Visitors to and residents of Louisiana will not get a chance to chug the state’s official cocktail and wake up on a French Quarter sidewalk with no wallet, no memory and no pants.
That’s because the Louisiana Senate rejected a measure that would have made Sazerac - a blend of whiskey, sugar, bitters and absinthe - the state’s official cocktail.
State Sen. Buddy Shaw was among those who said Louisiana doesn’t need an official cocktail, according to a story from The Associated Press, the source I turn to for news about elected leaders arguing over something as idiotic as an official cocktail while many of their constituents can’t afford to drive to the store to buy food they can’t afford when they get there.
“Is there a possibility that we could be encouraging folks, who are not intending to drink, that it would be acceptable and they could become an alcoholic?” asked Shaw, recently named the state’s official senator to use fuzzy logic to prove his point.
“Here we are in Louisiana, Helen. How about a drink?”
“Don’t be silly, Stan. You know members of my family have been teetotalers for generations and I believe that indulging in alcohol is a sign of moral weakness.”
“But it says here on this proclamation tacked to the wall beside the stripper pole that Louisiana lawmakers named Sazerac the state’s official cocktail.”
“Oh, in that case, I’ll have six. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.”
“Helen, get off the stripper pole! You’re ripping the proclamation with your Crocs!”
I found through extensive research (about 3 1/2 minutes on the Internet at netstate.com while I ate a burrito, the Hollifield family official microwavable food for under a dollar) that no state has an official alcoholic beverage (and if I’m wrong, I will surely be informed by a host of e-mails that begin “Dear official idiot"). But many do have official rocks, horses, dances, butterflies, reptiles, fish, fossils and flying mammals.
In Oklahoma, for instance, the official meal is fried okra, squash, cornbread, barbecue pork, biscuits, sausage and gravy, grits, corn, strawberries, chicken-fried steak, pecan pie and black-eyed peas. Oddly, the state’s official medical procedure is not the tummy tuck.
For me, now that I’m finished with my burrito and can concentrate, the official this-and-thats bring up some interesting hypothetical questions:
-- Which is the tastier official fruit, Vermont’s apple, Alabama’s blackberry or South Carolina’s peach?
I guess that’s why wars are fought.
-- Which official dog would win in a fight, North Carolina’s Plott hound, Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay retriever or South Carolina’s Boykin spaniel?
Only Michael Vick and his cellmate know for sure, and it will cost you a carton of cigarettes.
-- Which official insect would you least like to see splattered across your car’s windshield, Illinois’ monarch butterfly, the New Mexico’s tarantula hawk wasp or Alaska’s bowhead whale?
Ha! It’s a trick question. The bowhead whale is actually Alaska’s official marine mammal and would crush your car like aluminum can. (And, if my petition is successful, the aluminum can will soon be the official metal drinking receptacle of the state of Rhode Island.)
Lawmakers, your task is a daunting one. There are still official this-and-thats out there to be debated endlessly while many of your constituents can’t afford to drive to the store to buy food they can’t afford when they get there.
Official Lynyrd Skynyrd song. Official handgun. Official escort service (New York may have already decided on that one). Official way for legislators to waste time. Official smart-aleck columnist.
And before you debate the last one, let me buy you a couple of Sazeracs. It may not be the official cocktail of the state of Louisiana, but when you wake up on the sidewalk with no wallet, no memory and no pants and see the video I shot, I’ll be a shoo-in.