F**k You, I'm Drunk McD Send Off—Live From Flatlander's Taproom Open Mic

This one always hits like a gut punch.

It was our Monday midnight song. The whole place knew it—shouted it—like a ritual. “Fuck You, I’m Drunk” wasn’t just a barroom chant. It was our anthem. Our last call gospel. We howled it for every joy, every pain, every damned thing we couldn’t say any other way.

Ken was the first to go. A regular. A vet. One of ours. Took his life not long after a night of laughter and beers. Then we lost JLo, our barman, in a wreck that didn’t make sense. And still, every Monday, we sang. Not because it made the grief go away. But because that song knew the grief. It held the rage and the ridiculousness and the love, all in one verse.

When McD left to serve, that song roared louder than ever. It was our fist in the air. Our middle finger to the silence. Our family, broken but still showing up. Every week.

Places like that don’t always last. But if you’ve ever had one—where people yell your name and mean it, where sorrow’s met with a shot and a shoulder—then you know. That song? It’s not about being drunk.

It’s about not being alone.

These recordings stand as a testament to the extraordinary talent of the performers—and, perhaps most importantly, to our soundman Brett, who masterfully captured these moments in history and crafted the soundscapes we’re able to enjoy now and for years to come.

Flatlander’s lives on in the hearts of many who were there, often helping to lay a foundation that shaped who they would become. I’m proud to call them friends, and grateful for the opportunity to have created a safe, nurturing space that recognized talent and gave it room to grow into a light that continues to inspire others.

For Jason Lopez

Eric Feltman
2025