[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to the Duluth Athletic Club Bar & Grill, 402 W. First St., and composed this article for the October 2004 issue of the Ripsaw magazine. The Duluth Athletic Club closed in 2008 after it was flooded by a toilet overflow.]

Tonight, in an effort to mentally prepare you for the upcoming presidential election, I ask this question: Where in the Twin Ports would George W. Bush go to get drunk? The answer, of course, is nowhere. Bush doesn’t drink. He used to drink, but then he flip-flopped and turned into an evangelical traitor to the cause.

John Kerry, on the other hand, might go to the Duluth Athletic Club Bar & Grill. After all, the DAC is a nice, clean, all-American place where any political figure could spend a quiet night without any controversy whatsoever. And a rich sonuvabitch like Kerry could certainly afford the overpriced drinks.

Really, what could be more patriotic than an “athletic club” that’s dedicated to the proud American ideals of drinking and overeating? It’s no coincidence they painted the walls of this joint red, white and blue.

The first thing I notice as I enter the DAC tonight is that, as usual, the place seems to be selectively permeable. There’s nobody guarding the door or anything, but somehow a certain element is kept out. Everyone here looks like they are an on-air personality for KDLH-TV. In fact, some of these people actually are.

It’s not that people like me aren’t allowed into the DAC, it’s that we seldom return. I mean, it’s a fine place for anyone to hang out, but only certain people will regularly pay $4.90 for their pint of Bass Ale. And what kind of a price is that? $4.90? Sane bar prices are always round numbers: $2. $2.50. Charging $4.90 for a drink is like charging $27.64 for a blowjob. I hope the bartenders don’t mind that the prices are set so that they only get a dime for a tip.

Still, there’s a lot for a guy like me to dig about the DAC. First and foremost, a nice collection of historical photographs adorns the walls. I’ve been staring at fluorescent Bud Light signs and Green Bay Packers posters for so long I see them in my sleep. It’s a relief to look at the Duluth Rowing Club, the old Eskimos NFL team and even a few old-school Duluth hotties in their one-piece bathing suits.

The men’s room features a photo of Marilyn Monroe working out on a bench press, and let me tell you, it’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. (Ladies, don’t be jealous; there’s a little something for you in that old Eskimos poster on the hallway wall, and his name is Ernie Nevers.) I also like the abundance of leather couches and chairs at the DAC. If that’s the investment the markup on my beer pays for, I grudgingly accept the deal.

The thing I fear most at the DAC is the new nightclub that will open upstairs by the time this article goes to press. According to advertisements in publications as prestigious as this one, “The Metro Minneapolis club scene comes to life downtown at 21 North.” I am just as confused about why anyone in Duluth would want anything to do with the Minneapolis club scene as I am about this guy who just walked in wearing a tie. It’s Saturday. Who the hell wears a tie on Saturday? This land of ours is changing, but I’m $19.60 away from caring.