By Rachel Glass.
Look, are more people dying right now than usual? I guess so. Is there scientific evidence suggesting that people-crowded areas such as restaurants and bars are hotspots for transmitting a virus that has caused people from all around the world to temporarily sacrifice their general routines and interests in an effort to curb and reduce mortality rates? Probably. Are there ongoing civil rights protests that could make one feel guilty or ashamed that instead of contributing in any capacity they can to advocate for equal rights for every citizen of this nation, they’re ingesting red meat at rapid rates and ranting about political correctness overload in between Coors Light pitcher refills? Sure. But… What if you don’t give any fucks?
If you’re like me and give absolutely no fucks, then there’s no reason you can’t be out and about, sippin’ juicy IPAs on patios, sharing a giant plate of nachos with a like minded friend, and declining a to-go box when the server inquires about seemingly untouched plate of nachos that’s been sitting there for an hour. Honestly, now is the best time to not give any fucks and spend your unemployment benefits on overpriced burgers and raspberry shandys, because with all these pussies either staying at home in fear of an over-hyped case of the flu, or too busy begging social media followers to Venmo them money for buying food and supplies for the homeless, you can almost always score a booth!
So if you’re tired of pretending you need to avoid dining out and living your best life because a few grandpas in Seattle died, then here are some of the premiere bars and restaurants in the Twin Cities perfect for not giving any fucks while guzzling and scarfing your brains out and relishing your right to never alter your actions or behavior because it could potentially benefit the greater good:
Sandy’s Bar & Grill – Northeast Minneapolis
Ask anyone in Northeast Minneapolis where people who overtly don’t give a shit about anything or anyone other than themselves like to congregate, and without hesitation, they’ll point you in the direction of Sandy’s. This towny dive is always packed with patio smokers who hate to laugh because it usually triggers several minutes of accompanying coughing, and on two dollar Hamm’s night, you are guaranteed to see absolutely no sign of any fucks being given by anyone! Be sure to take advantage of the six dollar burger baskets every Sunday night, because you might as well save a few bucks if you’re going to not give a fuck about a global pandemic and risk the health and safety of others to consume a completely average burger!
Swenson & Joseph’s – South Minneapolis
Any restaurant that has “&” in its name means three things: craft cocktail menus, indie Spotify playlists that will prompt you to occasionally ask your phone “who’s playing right now” and nod your head at your accurate presumption of the artist being Iron & Wine, and a server named Sebastian. Swenson & Joseph’s not only has all of the aforementioned attributes, but brandishes a not-that-expensive food menu featuring comforting Caucasian takes on global dishes that are extremely traditional and inexpensive in their native lands. Their seven-dollar tacos are totally out-of-this-country, the most accessible beer on tap is a spiced rum barrel-aged porter, and their hummus has other ingredients in it that aren’t hummus! This is a great spot for millennial-no-fuck-givers, who are struggling to find camera-worthy cusiuine to Instagram during these dire times.
The Curious Carnivore – Downtown St. Paul
Meat, more meat, and about as much meat as you can physically consume is what you’ll find waiting for you at this relaxed, down-to-earth-because-there’s-white-people-everywhere joint, residing in the safety and exclusivity of Downtown St. Paul. I recommend starting out with their signature Meat Bucket appetizer, accompanied with blindfolds for everyone to put on while dipping their hands into a giant bucket of meat and surprising their pallet with an exotic variety of edible flesh, ranging from juicy elk tendons to fried fox brain. Get yourself a pint of Bro-Choice Brewing’s Plandemic Porter and go nuts on any one of two dozen Big Buck Hunter arcade games, where you can mentally substitute the deer for social justice protesters when you’re blasting away!
Sparty’s Sportsball Emporium – East St. Paul
Sports are back! And what better place to embrace escapism than Sparty’s Sportsball Emporium, sporting over 375 televisions sets and 925 different beers on tap! Berate your server for failing to find the high school badminton state quarter-finals game while dunking your chicken nuggies into your very own sauce flight, featuring nine different sauces ranging from ranch, to jalapeno ranch, to honey mustard ranch, to barbecue ranch, to bleu cheese ranch, to mango habanero ranch, to apple smoked bacon ranch, to nacho cheese ranch, to ketchup! Scream at all the televisions sets while showing more passion and emotion over a questionable traveling violation than the fact that 564 people have been murdered by police in the United States and we’re not even in halfway into September, and take advantage of four-for-one Schnapps shots every time a Twins opponent is suspended for testing positive for COVID!
Papa’s Tapas – Downtown Minneapolis
Does it seem like most restaurants that are open right now are packed with fellow skeptics that don’t make as much money as you do? Then maybe your preferred setting is a generic culinary experience disguised as an innovative dining establishment because of their abundance of Edison light bulbs and a side of truffle fries costing eleven dollars! Papa’s Tapas is a great place to get away from all those people who believe the exact same things as you do, but tend to spit when they talk, feel it necessary to only speak at audibly-disabling volumes, and only drive American cars. Sigh in relief while you order miniscule plates of items you could actually find on an Olive Garden menu for one-sixth of the price, and quietly talk to your spouse about the merits of delaying the presidential election over glasses of grotesquely overpriced malbec and the soothing sounds of the same instrumental soft jazz tunes you’d hear at a Von Maur. It’s okay… You’re safe here.
Clyde’s Cycle Bar – St. Louis Park
If you’ve been filling your void of normalcy with excessive physical fitness, then Clyde’s Cycle Bar will ‘spoke’ volumes to you. Every night, hundreds of sweaty, Oakley-wearing, upper-class cyclists descend upon Clyde’s patio after celebrating any recent corporate success with thirty miles of biking. Clyde’s is the premiere place in town for people who have latched onto cycling as a means of masking their mid-life crisis with a sense of purpose and identity, and is great for meeting single cyclists who never have and never will possess the time or emotional capacity to maintain a healthy relationship. There’s always great deals on buckets of Michelob Ultra bottles to be shared, and if you’re feeling a bit naughty, help yourself to some complimentary pistachio trail mix at the bar!
Ted’s Tavern – Northeast Minneapolis
It’s certainly been a grueling year for service industry workers who have not only lost their jobs due to the pandemic, but have completely been deprived of any trace of individuality or community after watching their ‘career’ vanish in thin air. Luckily, Ted’s Tavern is the go-to hub for bitter service industry veterans looking for a sanctuary to continue to complain about all the things and people they hated when they were employed. Like veterans at American legions, Ted’s Tavern is perfect for disgruntled ex-bartenders or servers in need of a place to vent about shitty-tip memories and sexually harassing-shift managers, because the places and people they used to carp at or to are no longer available to them. Ted’s is the place to be for cracking open a PBR tallboy, tossing back Old Overholt shots, and eventually confronting and acknowledging your masochistic longings and dreams of serving a Karen just one more time.
Applebee’s – Multiple Locations
There’s only one place to dine at when your soul is one-hundred percent completely void of fucks: Applebee’s. It’s gonna take a lot more than 150,000 cases of death to shut these fuckers down, and the further away from the Twin Cities you venture, the livelier the Applebee’s you’ll come across. There’s the Applebee’s in Rochester, where Tuesday nights mean two-for-one gloryhole sessions, or the infamous, anything-goes Eden Prairie Applebee’s, where legend has it the general manager is a circus-trained chimpanzee named Wallace who’s addicted to Fireball and is missing an eye. Straight up, you can do whatever the fuck you want at these places! Russia blasts us with a nuclear holocaust? Hit up the Plymouth Applebee’s for complimentary under-the-booth handjobs and twenty-five cent Jack Daniels barbecue sauce shooters. Trump gets reelected and declares first-degree murder legal if your annual income is over $100,000? Celebrate at the Golden Valley Applebee’s by strangling a bus boy and injecting yourself with a syringe full of sweet-and-sour mix. Applebee’s is the 1996 Tupac Shakur of restaurants, and we can all take solace in knowing that no matter how many people die due to this virus or the police, you can always eat good in your artificially-constructed-to-cater-to-people-who-think-and-look-like-you-do neighborhood!