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September 17, 2010

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spacer I was never a regular but I did have some good times at the Buckaroo over the last 6th of its 72 year existence. From what I saw, I'd say they saved the best for last. The whole neighborhood was there, asses to elbows inside, spilling over the sidewalk, even camped out tailgating across the street in back of minivan with guitar, beercooler, and the hatchback for an umbrella. I started a timelapse video inside at 2 pm then went back and forth the two blocks home over the course of the final voyage. Late in the evening I settled in a corner where many mostly full beers had been abandoned. The bar was deep with thirsty people and it was hard to move in any direction so I made do tipping bottles and pint glasses alike with democratic acceptance. The PCC posse was in effect and Philadelphia represented. People pocketed billiard balls for souvenirs, there was dancing on the bar, and when it came time for last call the bartenders' pleas fell on deaf ears. It must have been what bars were like in the days before our present near total conformity and obedience--a little wild and only slightly dangerous. People were smoking indoors (normal 7 years ago, utter taboo today) even before the motorcycles starting burning rubber in the bar. Most people immediately fled, but some sat serenely puffing cigarettes in the haze of something like mustard gas.

The Buck died slow, an unkillable dragon.