"Aw, it's because we live in the Bible Belt. The churches have control of everything around here." That's what we used to say in our early 20's when midnight Saturday night would roll around and someone realized the beer and liquor were running out. You couldn't buy alcohol in Georgia on Sundays unless you were getting it by-the-drink at a restaurant or bar.

Just the other day, though, USA Today ran an article on outdated liquor laws that are being contested and repealed in different areas. Reading through some of them and the reader comments, I came to the amazing realization I've grown up in a beautiful Sodom and Gomorrah and didn't even know it! The laws around alcohol and nudity are actually pretty lax around Atlanta compared to a lot of other, supposedly more "enlightened" cities.

In Atlanta the supermarkets can sell beer and wine. Ernest & Julio Gallo sit on a shelf right next to Dr. Pepper, just as a six-pack of Bud Light is just a bin over from Diet Coke. Not so in New York City! In New York the supermarkets can't sell wine, and in Philadelphia they can't sell beer or wine! Who woulda thunk it?

Indiana is one of the craziest places. They can't sell liquor on Sundays, and on election days the bars have to close down. Here's something really out there -- in Indiana you also can't sell cars on Sunday! I'd love to hear the rationale behind that one.

When I visited Los Angeles so many years ago I was eager to visit some Hollywood Boulevard strip clubs and experience the world Nikki Sixx immortalized in song. Imagine my astonishment when I, a guy from the prudish South, entered a rinky-dink strip club where the strippers wore G-strings at all times! Here in Atlanta the strippers spread out and put the bare article a few inches from your face. Those puritanical Los Angelenos blew my mind.

Perhaps L.A.'s Spearmint Rhino is a different league, but I also found the L.A. strip clubs I visited to be more like something out of a Magnum Force movie: peep show booths, low-grade porn running on a big screen and a old Chinese guy in a raincoat in the corner. Dirty Harry was surely going to come in looking to rough up an informant any moment. In Atlanta the strip clubs had bow-tied valets and brass fixtures, with amazing sound and light systems.

Later on I learned that in New York the strippers wear not only G-strings but pasties, also. It's called a strip club, not a "keep some of your clothes on" club, right?

This has changed in Atlanta to be more like the other cities, to a degree, lately. In my particular county you can't serve alcohol and have nude ladies, so the two crappy clubs serve Coca-Cola. Downtown, though, I'm pretty certain the good ol' Cheetah is still doing business the right way: beer and boobs together. Maybe Mardi Gras, too, if it's still around.

Funny we read articles and rant about the Patriot Act and government intrusion in our business and personal lives, but ignore the baseline measurement of this intrusion: our rights to drink beer and see boobs. These rights are the greatest of all and they've already been severely eroded in just a few years. Why is this country so 18th century?

But if you live in Atlanta, fear not. The good life is still available in spots -- for now. Think I better go to the Cheetah tonight.

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