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Those sick of the neighborhood frat bars should visit Dead Poet, where pictures of late, great writers hang from the walls beside their inspiring words. Order up a cheap happy-hour beer, and pretend to leaf through the books in the back room, when really you're trying to check out/impress the Betty nearby. Think about that movie Dead Poets Society
, and how you cried when that hot guy killed himself. Had enough poetry? Opt instead for a game of pool to accompany your next pint.