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If you live in the Tri-State Area and you like to tie one on a few times a week during the time slot between King of Queens and Fresh Prince of Bel-Air reruns on TBS, you just might be shit outta luck. The New York Post reports that the Department of Health is considering a city-wide ban of happy hour as part of an effort to get NYC-area denizens to adopt healthier drinking habits. Gasp!
Now, even if you don't live in New York City, you probably know that happy hour is one of the best inventions in human history, second only to air conditioning and salt and vinegar potato chips. It's even better in New York, where, in less happy hours, you basically have to be a billionaire to afford to get drunk, because the standard price of a Sam Adams Summer Ale on draft is on par with a semester of tuition for community college.
So you might be asking yourself, what kind of megalomaniacal criminal mastermind would come up with such a devious scheme to rid the world of the joys of $5 mimosas and public urination in broad daylight? The answer: Commissioner Thomas Farley, who said in a recent DOH report that he aims to "reduce risky alcohol use" by advocating for "policies that reduce access to alcohol by adolescents and for limits on sales practices in communities and campuses that promote drinking among adolescents and heavy drinking among adults" (the article doesn't mention whether he's the same guy who reported you to your R.A. for smoking weed in your dorm room freshman year, but I think the chances are pretty good).
Although a spokesperson for the agency denies any "plans to pursue any policy around discount-alcohol sale," a source in the department says that proposals to outlaw booze specials at bars and restaurants have been discussed enough among higher-ups that New Yorkers should pretty much start going apartment hunting in New Jersey right now (NJ is not, apparently, one of the nineteen states that have already implemented happy-hour bans, presumably because they hope you'll get so drunk while there that you won't notice the entire state smells like a foot). So basically, start panicking, people. Well, first, wait till 5:00 p.m., go to the nearest bar, and get drunk enough so that you'll go home and laugh uproariously at all of Carlton's jokes on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. After that, you can start to panic.
UPDATE: Mayor Bloomberg has released the following statement on the Post's story:
You know, it's good that — what one paper's done because, as you remember, this year the committee did not award a Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Now we have one — with irresponsible journalism — for next year. The Health Department has no plans. We told them we have no plans. It is a totally fictitious, made-up story, and it's just not what I would call responsible journalism.