Pursuant to my post on scammish skin-care cocktails, my friend The Chemist (this moniker thing is getting kind of silly – it sounds like he is a fifteen year-old meth dealer in Guy Ritchie’s version of Boise) suggested starting a bar that served an ever-changing, zodiac-based menu, catering to the stars’ dictates for our customers.  Thus, Pisces, on Thursday in late April, would be a mix of rum, Midori, and aloe juice, in order to help the poor dears manage both their turbulent love lifes and disappointing careers.  It seemed an idea worth sharing, so that I can write a pithy note on it when, inevitably, someone steals the idea and gets a write-up in The Times.

I welcome any further pseudoscientific ideas for a bar.  Perhaps a bar that only opens on May 21, 2012 (did I get the date for the apocalypse right?) could be further fleshed out.

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