Dear Santa

Dear Santa:

We are the folks down at The Beaver Dam Roadside Tavern. You know us. We keep you cracked up all year long at our Web site, on twitter and Facebook. We’ve been good this year. Well, mostly we have. You know a little naughty goes a long way, and nice is a bit overrated. Anyway, we know you’re busy for a guy who only works 1 day a year, so here’s the list:

Professor Thorndike Sinclair never stumbles when he does SEC Pigskin Picks. He is a master behind the mic. So, we thought we might could get him some of those cool turntables like DJs have, and he could start a second career. He already has the killer smile and good looks.

Zach Clayton has been a really good… okay, well, you know he tries to be good. Hey, at least his “Music Musings” column good. That should account for something. Anyway, maybe letting him do the sound for the next Van Halen tour would be nice. Have you ever seen him do the Hey! Hey! Hey!’s to “Ain’t Talking Bout Love?” It’s Roth-like.

Mark Grissom wants a World Series Championship for the Cubs. If you cannot do that, just make him a handsome billionaire and supreme ruler of the world. That should be more doable. You know, his blog, “Loving the Cubs… and Other Problems I Have” publishes each Wednesday. Right?

David Carroll, who writes “That Guy on TV and Radio” has been a good boy this year. We really need to change that. Please bring him a $100 Gift Card for the Catfish County Tattoo and Piercing Emporium. For a piercing, we’re thinking something through the eyebrow; and let’s ink him up with a python up high on his neck so when he does the news you can see its eyes poking up over his collar.

Chely Sizemore just wants a balanced no-load mutual fund that outpaces the S&P 500. Hey, who doesnt? Are we right big guy? Oh yeah, and bring her a turtleneck, too. Everybody appreciates a good gag gift now and again.

Brother Hoyt wants either a Tennessee Vols National Championship in football or for Alabama to go 0 and 12. We know you and Jesus compare notes, so see what you can do. Which ever is easier. It doesn’t matter to him.

Ard Svenson just wants to meet Alex Trekek over a couple of Sweetwater 420s. As a matter of fact, buy yourself one while you’re at it.

Coach Billy Jack Hoover is a simple man. He’s kind of like Phil Robertson without all the facial hair and the money. All he wants for Christmas is for him and Mrs. Coach Billy Jack Hoover to have one of those all-inclusive vacations down in Jamaica. (Actually, there’s a kid down there who rushed for 1,400 yards as a high school junior, who Coach thinks might fit in well at CCHS. But don’t tell Mrs. Coach Billy Jack Hoover.)

The Sports Drive has all those super-huge sports brainiacs all crammed in that little studio. So for them, we ask for one of those big studios like Kathy Lee and Hoda have with 10 or 12 cameramen. No, wait. Camera girls who also have really big sports brains.

Okay, well that’s about it. You get to work on that now, and remember, you can deliver the presents to the Beaver Dam Roadside Tavern. We’ll have milk and cookies under the tree, which should give you enough energy to make it to the kitchen where we keep the good stuff.

Merry Christmas,

The almost ruckus at The Beaver Dam Roadside Tavern

By Ard Svensen

So, I was sitting on the 2nd stool the other night. I’d just won the Tuesday night trivia contest. Again. Last time I lost was back in the ’80′s – some mailman from Boston was passing through. Kind of a funny looking guy. Cliff was his name I believe. Had a strange attachment to his Ma.


Cliff Clavin reportedly beat Ard Svensen in Beaver Dam trivia in 1986.

Anyhow, I’d just won, and had collected my prize (honestly, how many copies of the Farmers’ Almanac does one man need?), when some fella sat down on the 1st stool. We all froze up, because you don’t sit on the 1st stool. Well, I will some day, if Clephus goes before I do. I was 3rd stool until Eddie retired and moved to Montana, which put Clephus squarely on 1st stool, and me, by the Beaver Dam Tavern Rules of Succession, on 2nd stool.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. This fella sat down on 1st stool. It was 8:30, so Clephus had gone home for dinner and was about 18 minutes away from coming back. 

We didn’t know what would happen.

Time ticked slowly by, as we waited for the sure-to-come ruckus to start.

At 8:36, I ordered another beer. The tension was palpable. The fella (Dave), had ordered an Appletini. Chely was doing relief bartending, and had to use up valuable time looking through her “Fancy Frank’s Bartender’s Guide” so she could figure out how to make one.

Chely put the abomination on the bar at 8:42. We knew we were only 6 minutes away from the ruckus (Clephus is nothing if not punctual).

Dave (The Fella), was busy sorting through the bar nuts and didn’t see his “drink” at first. 

I was starting to sweat. (Follow Ard on twitter.)

At 8:48, in walks Clephus. He stopped and looked at 1st stool. Looked at Dave. Looked at me. Looked back at Dave. Then he slowly walked over to the bar. You could have heard a pin drop.

He took a deep breath, put his mountainous paw on Dave’s shoulder and said “Do you use Grey Goose in your Appletinis?”

Just like that, the crisis was averted – Dave moved down to 3rd stool, and Chely bought a round of ‘tini’s (that’s what we call them now) for the house. (See the actual Grey Goose bottle here.)

’til Next Time,
Ard Svensen
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