Yesterday evening, I found myself in a shadowy corner of the Yard House, a warehouse-style chain restaurant and beer supermarket at Merrick Park. There's a massive selection of 50-odd pale ales, dark ales, lagers, and more; it's a garish scene, set to the nerve-squelching strains of so-called classic rock like "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship. Why would a semi-professional alcoholic and part-time philosopher waste valuable drinking-slash-thinking time here?
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