Slots, dials and spigots = bar scene on any given Saturday night.

An even more depressing way to dial drunk.

Unless that machine is also paying for my drink, there's still flirting to be done, Sheila!

Soft drink, of course, means every flavor of barley water imaginable! And also Ribena.

BUT NOTHING ELSE.

Try hiding that on the subway platform.

@Bell_County: HAH!

@mathnet: I was going to say, talk about drunk dialing!!!

[sad foghorn]

I need one of these for my apartment

@Cory: Which actually, now that I've had time to think about it, could be okay. But only if vodka was combined with everything.

So basically it's just like a giant, complicated box of Franzia?

You could probably have sex with one of the booze nozzles...

CUSTOMER (Inebriated, stumbling over his own words.)
Charlie.

(The anachronistic, mechanized bartender does not answer.)

CUSTOMER
Charlie! Answer me, daggummit!

(Silence.)

CUSTOMER (speech slurred)
Charliegimmeadrink. Scotch on the rocks.

(Silence.)

CUSTOMER
On the ROCKS daggummit! GIMMEABEER!!!

CHARLIE THE MECHANIZED BARTENDER
Beep boop beep! Whiiirrrrrrrr.

CUSTOMER
You can KEEP your fucking peanuts.

CHARLIE
Boop! Whirrrrrr. Beep beep!

CUSTOMER
Cocktail mix? With cashews?

CHARLIE
Beep!

CUSTOMER
Oh, Charlie. You'rethebesst. I'm sorry I yelled at you.

(CUSTOMER falls to the floor, the cocktail mix with him.)

CHARLIE (Sad.)
Biddy-biddy-biddy... No cashews, numbnuts!

@CaptainHangNail: "Booze nozzle" will be the name of my firstborn child.

I miss the days when people drank wine with their day-old egg salad sandwiches. It was a simpler, drunker, more Hindu-slaughtering time.

@In Other News...: Nice Twiki!

This reminds me of how much I miss Enzo from Crescent and Vine. I just find myself wondering where he is, who he's with, what he's thinking, is he thinking of me?, and if he'll ever return one day...

@Richard: [sad foghorn] is my favorite of your darling little devices, ps

This may be the new Starbuck's business model.

*Sigh* Oh, how I loved Horn and Hardart's automats. The food was so tasty, the options so plentiful, and the coin-operated dispensers showcased the food in such a mouth-watering way. Plus the whole place was so clean and futuristic.

Yes, I was but a wee lad when the last one was shuttered to make room for the real future, but the memory lingers sweetly on my synapses.

Did I just overshare?

Frickin' frack! Those cyclops keep fracking with us.

@DonPardoCalrissian: Just glad someone got it!

@BoHan: Aw, widdle Spiegs. He's probably deep into his third Hot Pocket and squarely pinned under the red boot of Johnnie W by now.

@Hez: The red pair? Oh god no.

@Hez: @valarmorghulis: True all that. But don't be surprised if next Friday night old bleachy is dispensing liquor out of her nipples for any spare change ole' eyepatchy can muster.

@BoHan: If she doesn't, I probably will.

I think that contraption also had a microphone you could talk into, to tell how your wife didn't understand you.

you don't understand the real hook this machine had. It's not that it could have spared you from talking to a typical bartender; it's that it could have spared you from talking to an English bartender.

It's all, "Chelsea bloody yayayayaya innit an den bloody council tax, Yeh, the bloody council tax, and..."

I'd tip them to shut up.

Oh, and the Americans invented one of these for home bars, called the...Cocktail-O-Matic. I have a picture of it in a book here somewheres.

Yes, raincoaster: your go-to archival source for all things drunkard and ettiquetary.