Recently, the city of Olympia and the Washington State Liquor Control Board agreed on a plan that will prohibit the sale of certain alcoholic beverages within a specific section of downtown Olympia. The goal is to curb public drunkenness, lewd behavior, and littering by making it harder to get brands which combine high alcohol with low cost; and similar areas exist in Tacoma, Spokane, and right here in Seattle.

OK, so maybe there’s a civic good in keeping these malt liquors and fortified wines off the shelves, but really, if the LCB wants to get on my good side, it should start thinking about prohibiting the stuff that’s really ruining Seattle. Here are my proposed additions to the banned list.

Skinnygirl wine. True story: I’ve been asked if we carry this. Also true story: I was sure it was a joke until I looked it up online later. There are many, many reasons to choose a wine: flavor, pairing options, price, even the cute animal on the label—but please, never choose wine based on its caloric content.

All flavored tequilas. “You know what was a good idea? That shot of coffee-flavored tequila we did at 1:30 a.m.!” Said nobody ever.

Koumiss. Granted, it’s not as though fermented mare’s milk is popular in Seattle (or even something you can find), but why take the chance of it catching on after Murray Stetson returns from his excursion to Kyrgyzstan?

Costco-brand (Kirkland Signature) liquor. Mostly because it would be hilarious, after the warehouse giant essentially bought the I-1183 election in 2011. You know the Washington State Liquor Control Board still longs for revenge.

Some of my more dedicated readers probably expect me to make a joke about IPAs here, but I’m going to take the high road. Keep your hop bombs, but please, can we get rid of any beer that someone puts a piece of fruit in? Garnish your cocktails, leave your beer alone. If a beer needs fruit to taste good, what exactly does that tell you about it?

Sparkling wine in a can. Seriously, I’d rather have Thunderbird.

Anything ordered by someone who calls me “bro.” You might have riots if you enforced this rule in the Alcohol Impact Area surrounding the University of Washington, but downtown it would solve two problems: overly intense dude-bro types who really, really want a vodka & Red Bull, and the more-annoying hipster types who have even less of an idea of what irony means than Alanis Morissette.

Fireball. Because of the whole antifreeze thing, and also because I haven’t received enough hate mail lately.

thebarcode@seattleweekly.com