Updated November 13, 2009

Almost 5 years ago, I wrote the first version of this poem because of some rumors that my friend and I had been kicked out of the Bear pub in Haifa. It didn't exactly happen like that, and I was upset because since then (even to this day) every time I say I've been to the Bear, people respond to me, "Didn't you get kicked out of there?"

So this poem, though edited, is staying here to teach a lesson about spreading rumors. People who are nice aren't always powerless or voiceless.

Though I was wrong about the motivation for not allowing my friend to sit at the bar, and admit that, I don't appreciate having my name smeared...and just because I can forgive does not mean that I forget.

Every time this subject comes up, I do my part to explain why the incident happened. What I don't like is having to also explain that the Bear staff is actually nicer than I guess they wanted to be viewed, and didn't kick me out even though I was being unreasonable because I didn't understand the situation.

So with all due respect to the staff of the Bear, take this in good humor, and get used to it. It's the price of popularity. Next will come the food critics...

If you've got a dry throat and money to spare
Then get to the Carmel and come to the Bear.
The drinks are unwatered, the waitresses cute
But don't come in shorts or you'll go down the chute.

The women who frequent this pub give no flack
Just so long as you like to see hairy ass crack.
If you're kind then they might let you buy them a drink
And then if you're lucky you might get a wink.

The Bear was at one time my favorite pub.
I could always count on it for a drink and a rub.
The doorman is friendly and so is the dish.
I'd stagger home late and as drunk as a fish.

But too many customers one night they had.
I saw not the signs of a good pub gone bad.
I ordered some rum and my friend ordered coke
And the one with a pastry name thought she was broke.

They said we must order alcohol at the bar
Or get to the tables or out to the stars.
I asked if a psychic was there on the staff
But found they weren't joking 'cause they didn't laugh.

Needless to say but my friend and I burned.
I tossed them a cent for their troubles and turned.
We left that old ruin and went to another pub.
And had a fun night pouring rum down the gub.

Now anywhere else from Finland to Beirut
If a drinking pal is dissed the friends follow suit
But five pals two bitches and one claiming care
When we ditched that hole, they stayed their asses there.

Well nights come and go, and so many did pass
Before I returned to the Bear for a glass.
I believe that grudges are better for those
Who've naught to do better than picking their nose.

I learned in due time there were no machinations
Just an extreme failure of communication.
What was the bartender to do in that spot
Tell me flat out the chick I was with smelled like slut?

Like, "Oh we've heard 'I can't drink alcohol' before
"Then one sucker later, we've got a drunk whore."
Now I knew my cute hot friend better than that
She was protecting her tummy not passing the hat.

But I had to admit that it was his discretion
And I appreciate a pub with some good hoe protection.
So it's all good now between me and the staff
Now if only the girls' pants covered more than half.

Ho there! Come down to the Bear!
Get a woman some beer and a good sturdy chair.
The ladies are grand and they're certainly fair
But the men at this pub boast the best hair in there.