You seem to be in the know (or at least pretend to), so what the fuck is up with Geeks Who Drink and Trivia Factory invading our bars? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the occasional quiz night with friends from one of the locally-created games, but these bullshit monstrosity quiz nights have invaded our valley and turned every night of the week into a super-strict by-the-book yelling match between nerds. Yeah, I know, fucking shock that a bar is a place for people to complain at full volume about trivial things, but these national quiz shows have taken up a night at almost every bar and made it difficult to just go somewhere for a drink without having every single table taken up by a team of people who don’t know shit. Do we need so many quizzes that are all the same? Can’t they just shrink it down to one night instead of running the same questions seven nights a week at 20 different bars? Or are these things such a great money making scam that I need to look into taking over Poplar Street or Squatters every night as a “regional quizmaster whore” too?
I bet you bitch about being dragged to The Spazmatics at Liquid Joe’s. Every. Saturday. Night. I bet you’re the fucker dressed in twenty-year-old bondage pants and a black mesh shirt at Area 51’s Fetish Ball, complaining about the loud music and nurse outfits. Jentzen, get off your “locally made, locally played” high-horse and embrace reality: Yes, it is the same game over and over again, and yes, it is all about the money. The bar owners don’t care, the patrons don’t care, the quiz game producers don’t care and you shouldn’t either. Fuck, Jent, the sheer fact you wrote this letter shows how much you belong in that crowd. You are complaining about widespread trivia. You want to start your own bar quiz? Great! I’m pretty sure the Bongo, Mixed Emotions or Bout Time would welcome your sorry ass with open arms, along with your “local quiz.” Do you have time to produce 20 questions a week about music, TV, current events and themes like “Indirect References to Genitals in Literature”? Unless you’re still riding the mom-and-dad gravy train, which wouldn’t surprise me, I doubt you do. Until then, sit your ass on the bar stool, turn off your phone’s network and tell me: Which ‘70s pop duo covered a song about heralding nearby aliens?
Fax, snail mail or email us your letters!
Dear Dickheads c/o SLUG Mag
351 Pierpont Ave. Ste. 4B SLC, UT 84101