Longtime readers surely remember this story, as I often show up at collegiate speaking events to find kids eager to buy me a MBS. Anyway, if you don’t know what a Marion Barry shooter is, here’s the story (as plagiarized from an old column of mine):
When Marion Barry was elected mayor of D.C. — after his release from prison — I was with friends in a bar (sort of like saying, ” when Barry was elected I was breathing”). Barry had recently spent some time in the pen for smoking crack. The bar had the local news on and there was a reporter doing a stand-up from Barry campaign headquarters, where the victory party was already starting. The reporter — in total, complete, un-ironic seriousness — said something to the effect of “Well, Jim, I’m here tonight at the Barry headquarters. It’s a really diverse group, with people from every part of the Barry coalition…..with a strong turnout from the ex-offender community.” Recall that Barry campaigned in the local prison, telling inmates to tell their families to vote for him because he would liberalize parole, create an “office of ex-offenders’ affairs,” etc. The “ex-offender community” (a.k.a., criminals and hangers-on) accounts for a sizable portion of the voting population.
At that point, we decided that any mayor who could rally the ex-offender community without losing too many votes from the, say, law-abiding community, deserved a drink named after him. We came up with a concoction of Jagermeister, Kahlua, bourbon and Coke. Why this collection? Because we wanted a drink “so black not even the man could keep it down.”
Note: The Marrion Barry is a terrible, terrible drink which leaves you in the morning thinking someone drove a three-penny nail into your forehead. No one at National Review, the Corner nor myself in anyway endorse the consumption of this beverage.