Friday, January 21, 2011

Chicken Shit Bingo

It's Sunday afternoon, you're worn out from praising at church, filled up from a migas-and-enchiladas brunch, and ready for some live music and drinks with friends. What better place to go then the state-famous Ginny's Little Longhorn Saloon? Ginny has no website, probably because she is busy replacing the duct-taped bar stools and eight-track machine, but she certainly has a following.

Writes The Onion's A.V. Club: "Ginny’s is roughly the size of a two-car garage and there are only nine tables; by the time the band starts at 4, the party is spilling out from both ends into the parking lot, where grizzled regulars rub elbows with slumming hipsters and curious tourists. Before the main event begins, load up on $2 bottles of Lone Star and free hot dogs, but be advised that the self-serve frankfurter station is no place for squeamish types plagued by visions of grubby hands ripping through buns and sloshing around in relish. The musical entertainment alone is worth the nonexistent price of admission, with rootsy country acts like Dale Watson, Redd Volkaert, and Gary Claxton And Flat Top Jones boom-chicka-booming the crowd into a ramblin’, gamblin’ mood well before bingo tickets go on sale around 5 p.m."

Everyone is gathered for the main event: Texas' answer to craps? Literal crap. A 9′ x 6′ checkerboard is laid out on a pool table, each square on the board has a number. The chicken is released. You drink your Lone Star, eat your hot dog, listen to the music, and wait for the chicken to shit. If the poop lands on the number that corresponds with your number, you win.

Monday night is Dominoes.

Living in Texas is so. Fucking. Weird.

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