Ripped Atlas: The Meet Rack



I can think of no other bar in the West - no, make that the world - with more oddities, gimmicks, and antique sex toys tucked into its nooks and crannies than Tucson's incomparable Meet Rack, thanks to owner Jim Anderson (a.k.a. God). Beyond the gallery of weird art and  snapshots hanging on the walls and bras and panties dangling from the ceiling, there's a museum/dungeon with antique sexual devices and chastity belts. The bar's motto: "Something to offend everyone." Jim's credo: "I'll ruin your life." The condom machine in the women's restroom is wired to a buzzer in the bar that rings loudly when coins are inserted. And I'm just barely scratching the surface here.

Like most people nicknamed after a deity, God has pretty much seen and done it all. He drove Elvis to a concert. He ran for mayor of Tucson several times. He hung out with Schwarzenegger before he was anybody. (Schwarzenegger that is - God has always been somebody.) He's owned bars all over the hemisphere, but it seems the Meet Rack is the best fit.

Beyond the presence of God, the Meet Rack's best feature might just be the branding iron featuring God's silhouette on its business end. If you'd like, he'll get it all red-hot on the stove and treat you to a brand pretty much anywhere on your body. (One guy got his tongue branded.) After the pain subsides, you can show that brand to the barkeep here for a 50-cent discount on drinks for the rest of your days. (Nothing like getting a $2 Bud in exchange for a speech impediment.) Ask Jim how one brandee took him all the way to the People's Court.

The author, God, and demigod Nygard
 

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