Left High And Dry. If you've hauled ass to fabled and far off Qatar There to feast your eyes on the Football World Cup, Don't think you'll breeze into some friendly corner bar Replete with some foamy sudsy Buds on which to sup. Qatar authorities don't condone public drinking here, They frown on out-of-towner's downing a cool beverage, It doesn't matter if it's merely Budweiser's sLitest beer- Stay way up in your hotel and clean out the mini-fridge. No, do not go out once you're
boozedin the bag, And if you're a woman, don't dare show bare skin, But then don't wrap yourself up in a rainbow flag, Dressing gayly here appears to be a mortal sin. Tourists flock to Qatar to watch the beautiful game, Most used to emitting loud cheers and drinking freely, Now some who were glad to come feel sad they came, And is getting a skinful of Bud Lite all that sinful, really? Kicking 'round the desert sure does build up a thirst- What madness, sweating it out 'neath a swoonday sun! My excitement over seeing the World Cup's already burst, Druther be chillin' at home, knockin' back 'nother cold one.
'Way more than feeling half empty' Song for this dry and dusty post is 'Super 8' by Jason Isbell.