Two ladies walk into a bar. One orders a Bloody Mary. The semi-pie-eyed barkeep snarls that he's not mixing drinks at 6 pm. (It was 4:30.) Orders martini instead. Line-up of regulars, looking as if they've mistaken the place for a redneck dive in rural Idaho, proceed to wax eloquent, loudly peppering the air with F bombs, the N word...
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