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"For a Classy Expensive Intoxication," reads the sign in front of Welcome to the Johnsons'. By "classy," they mean 1970s wood-paneling decor and a surprisingly well-groomed pool table. By "expensive," they mean $2 PBRs. As ironic as this faux-rec room setting sounds, there's something romantic about an eternal house party where the parents are never home. And even though the Johnson family is fictional, the bar's artifacts--tattered trophies, a wooden chair with floral-print vinyl cushions, a portrait of an anonymous, mustachioed man--surely belonged to someone's family three decades ago. Pabst was in its prime back then and here, it still is.