Bailouts are the new black. Unemployment soars while house values plunge. These days, your nest egg's yolk is runny.

Like national trends from urban farming to skinny jeans, the recession might have hit Nashville late, but it looks like it will stick around. Conventional wisdom says times will get considerably worse before they get better.

So, uh, who needs a drink?

Don't kid yourself. Even though you're scouring the grocery aisle for off-brand potato chips and passing over tenderloin for tuna, if you're like most mere mortals, you're gonna hit the hooch just as hard as you ever did during these trying economic times.

That's because the naughty pleasures of vice—drinking, smoking and screwing—have long been recession-proof. No one knows if it's despite bad times or because of them, but nothing softens the blow of impending job loss, dwindling savings and a perpetual state of financial despair like tying one on, smoking out and breaking one off.

So instead of guiltily cutting back on temptations, self-medicate your fear-addled brain by indulging in carnal pleasures until the heat dies down. It might require rearranging your schedule or making the occasional concession for the company you keep, but scrimping just leaves you feeling broke and even more depressed.

What follows is a handy guide to living the high life on a beggar's budget. With a little innovation, you too can beat the recession blues. Or at least forget you ever had them

DRINKING
A recent Nielsen survey on recession-era spending habits confirmed that nearly half of those polled hadn't modified their booze habits. Sin industries like gambling, alcohol, sex and smokes typically resist extreme ebbs and flows, remaining relatively buoyant during hard times.

But where to dwell where the magic of the cold one won't send your mortgage to delinquency? Sure, you could drink at home, but no proper drinker should become a self-imposed pariah over a few financial setbacks. Besides, what would drinking be without the company of other ne'er-do-wells to shoot the shit, bounce around theories and wax optimistic about the '09 Hope Train?

Luckily, there's always a recession special offered in the dank underworld of bars and taverns. It's called happy hour, that mystical time when the downtrodden leave the light of the workday and enter the bosom of two-for-ones, half-offs, a shot of this with a draft of that and a hell yes, I'll double-fist these Miller Lites even though it's a Tuesday and it's only 4:15 p.m.

Originally an ingenious way to get Prohibition-era folks soused before heading out to an alcohol-free dinner, it has since become an ingenious way to get soused before heading out to an alcohol-filled dinner. Perhaps even more ingenious is the concept's delightful misnomer: Most happy hours actually last longer than an hour. Some establishments dare to keep the bargains flowing all night long.

You can pretty much roll up to any bar at 4 p.m. and find a special, but for all-night benders at half the price, we endorse the East Side. Sunday and Wednesday nights, that means holding court in Five Points at the plank-floored 3 Crow Bar, where exceptionally quick and friendly servers slay us with a steady supply of drinks before we've even downed the last gulp of our previous beer. And it's a place with multigenerational appeal, if by multigenerational you mean both people in their 20s and their 30s.

If we're feeling a little more rough-edged and punishing, we hit Red Door East for two-for-ones on Sundays and Tuesdays, but only when we can handle rockabilly kids, motorcycle aficionados and Pantera. After a few years of loyal attendance, we asked the bartender what it would take for him to remember our name. "You have to make out with me first," he replied without missing a beat.

If Vandy kids are your crowd, Mellow Mushroom down from Hillsboro Village offers half-off drafts and dollar-off domestics Monday through Thursday. And for a charming dive bar not yet infiltrated by cool kids, Betty's on 49th will sling you a pretense-free PBR for a mere $1.50 any old time of night.

But hold on to your pony keg, because nothing beats the end-all be-all recession special we found at FooBar. We've never seen this Gallatin Road establishment packed, which means it's still one of the city's best-kept secrets. Aside from the occasional unintentional hilarity of a band aping Molly Hatchet, it offers the chilled-out hole-in-the-wall vibe at its best: amber-lit darkness, smoky as hell and full of cheap-ass drinks.

All the financial tsunamis in the world haven't stopped folks from pulling up stools. "Sometimes people come in and say, 'Oh, I'm so broke lately and I don't even have a job,' " says manager Toli Collins. "Then they sit down and drink like they would normally. People seem to keep drinking whatever they wanna drink."

On Sundays you can get a draft of PBR and a shot of Jim Beam for a shockingly low $4. And that's just on the holy day. Mondays and Tuesdays, hit the $1 PBRs. Or if tequila is your poison, try the $4 margarita on Monday, then mix that with Tuesday's $5 any-draft-and-a-shot-of-the-devil bargain.

SMOKING
The year was 1992 when comedian Denis Leary noted that finger-wagging anti-smoking laws pretty much meant you could only smoke in your apartment, under a blanket with the lights out. He was talking about New York, but it took little more than a decade for Nashvillians to get the stink eye on the subject. Now that we've got it, it doesn't seem to be morphing into a friendly wink anytime soon.

Check out local bar ratings online, and it is always amusing to find the occasional drawback listed as "too smoky." As if that were a bad thing.

In the world of vice, there is something to be said for absolute values. If you're gonna smoke, smoke like you mean it. If you while away an evening with deep inhales and generous gulps, you want to leave the place soaked in their indelible aroma.

To smoke is to dream of a consequence-free life, to tempt the fates of pleasure by banking on the fact that small doses of danger will not haunt you forever. But never mind the social stigma. Tobacco prices are killing smokers faster than carcinogens. At four dollars a pack, the economic hit means making smokes last longer, rolling your own or resorting to pipes.

"I've seen a resurgence of pipe smokers here because in the long run it's just cheaper," says Elliston Pipe & Tobacco manager John Mahan. "The range of tobacco you can get is extremely broad in terms of flavors."

Uptown's Smoke Shop in Green Hills has witnessed a similar trend. "Cigarette smokers are leaning toward what they call roll-your-own tobacco," says manager Scott Partridge. "You can save a considerable amount of money."

It takes effort, something the lazier among us might be averse to, but all that sitting and talking leaves idle, roll-ready hands. And tobacco pouches—the equivalent of about two-and-a-half packs of cigs—sell for as low as $5. If you buy the loose-leaf tobacco, it's even cheaper. For the bargain basement, hit a convenience store for a pouch of the classic Bugler, which goes for around $2 a pop.

Cigar smokers, with their slender infernos of heat wrapped in red and gold, make cigarette smokers look like philistines. And they aren't cutting back in the least.

"I haven't seen anybody who's a cigar smoker who's cut down," says Partridge. "Actually, we have not had a decrease in cigar sales at all. Our cigar sales are actually up. I don't know whether that's 'cause people are bypassing more expensive things they typically indulge in, but our cigar sales have been increasing."

The anti-smoking laws have indisputably helped cigar shops that offer smoking on the premises. "Our business increased when the laws changed and there were less and less bars and restaurants where you could smoke," Partridge says. "It helped our business because we have big lounge areas with TVs and lots of seating. So we saw a bit of an increase with foot traffic of people hanging out in the shop and smoking."

And that foot traffic has meant expanding their formerly cozy digs next to Levy's on Hillsboro Road to a classier joint up the street. It's a place that feels like time has slowed down and turned back, with overstuffed leather chairs, flat-screen TVs, soft, low light and the vibe of a classy gentlemen's club.

Uptown's Smoke Shop specializes in premium, hand-rolled cigars, and even the cheapest will set you back $2. Elliston Pipe and Tobacco on the Rock Block has cigars that start at a dollar. If you're willing to experiment for a recession-friendly flavor, you can still rack up.

Finding the best deal is a tricky business. Like wine, it's all a question of palate and predilections. Or, as Mark Twain said, "No one can tell me what is a good cigar—for me. I am the only judge."

Still, Uptown's offered up the best recession special—not just the cheapest cigar, but the best quality cheapest cigar. It's a Padron Nicaraguan for $3.72 with a good burn and a full-bodied flavor. But it's a hot, peppery smoke, and their cheapest toke—the Honduran Don Jose—is actually much milder and more pleasurable. And it only sets you back $1.99.

If you want the best-kept secret of cigar buying in general, just call Tom Featherstone, founder of the Cigar Club of Nashville. It buys bundle cigars. "They're seconds of name brands. You know, flawed cigars. They're premium hand-rolled cigars, but something was wrong with the construction or they're a different color than the rest. Each brand out there has a high end to low end, and you can get 20 premium cigars for $40-$60."

Sounds good, but where can you sit back without a priggish finger-wag? "Uptown's Smoke Shop is our favorite," he says. "Their lounge is probably the biggest one in town. With the smoking ban in Nashville, it's helped these cigar clubs that have these lounges where you can go smoke without getting funny faces."

But once the fireplaces of smoke-shop lounges have flickered out for the night, in most cases by 8 p.m., then what?

"You can go to Mulligan's Pub on Second Avenue and Buffalo Billiards," says Featherstone. "Most of the bars [that allow smoking allow cigars]. But I always call first to make sure before I go anywhere, but most of the sports bars are cool with it."

There are, in fact, no cigar bars in Nashville. Sambuca in the Gulch offers an enclosed, heated terrace that is cigar-friendly. It also sells cigars on the menu. But with prices ranging from the $7 Cojimar Sambuca to the whopping $85 Arturo Fuente Opus, most recessionistas will have to bring their own supply.

And if wacky tobacco is your preferred medium, don't expect any recession specials from your dealer. "I've been paying the same price for pot since I was 15 years old," one anonymous 27-year-old tells the Scene.

"There's no cheaper weed right now, unless it's just bad weed," another told us. "In the winter months, things get dry, so it's pretty much take what you can get."

Not that it stops tokers from cutting back on they amount the buy. "I would cut other things from my budget first—like food—or I'd drink cheaper alcohol before I'd cut my weed budget," says one pothead. "That's like going without your medicine."

SCREWING
That same principle applies for the most illicit high of all—sex. Though most people are fortunate enough to indulge in the ultimate stress reliever without spending a dime, that isn't true for the lonelier souls among us. For them, it doesn't get any more convenient than scouring Craigslist. Polynesian playthings, full-figured cutie pies and buff Italian dudes are all online, hawking sensual "massages."

Most escorts pimping erotic services hung up in a flash when a reporter tried to ask a few questions about how business was going, but some say things are still just hunky-dory.

"It's still the same," says a woman who calls herself Diamond and advertises private dances for $75 a pop. "It's still the same because the same people who spend money for me in the first place are the ones who still have it. The ones who don't hardly spend are the ones who don't spend anyway."

An escort billed as Miranda admits she gets fewer calls these days. It isn't due to a tanking economy, but a police crackdown on Craigslist prostitution. "I've gotten less calls since all this Craigslist stuff has been going on, but I still manage to make it."

But spend any time poring over erotic services and you will see a plethora of ads offering early-bird services for a quick morning thrill.

More reliable, not to mention safer, are the titillating kicks at strip clubs. Sure, the new three-foot rule means you'll get hovered on at best, but that doesn't seem to be stopping men from pulling down their ball caps and heading out to gentlemen's clubs.

Déjà Vu manager Jason Helson says business has actually improved for the club that advertises hundreds of beautiful girls and three ugly ones. "Times are tough, but with any type of vice, people will always find a reason or a why or a how to do it," Helson says. "And everybody still finds time and money to go to strip clubs. Dancing and tipping have increased, and overall club profits have increased. In the last two months, we've done 80 percent more business than the last couple of years."

But most clubs have a cover that sets you back 5 or 10 bucks. Talk to aficionados, and they'll tell you the best pseudo-bang for your buck is at Ken's Gold Club, where happy hour means no cover and a one-drink minimum.

The unspoken rule is the closer you sit to the stage, the more likely you'll be approached for a dance or maneuvered into tipping. For the cheapskate at Ken's, make a beeline to the left, and sit as far away from the stage as possible. Order a coke for $5, or pay the dollar a beer BYOB fee, and sit back and watch the flesh parade.

Ken's is styled in the tradition of an 1850s Southern parlor, or so it advertises. It feels more like a French bordello with its velvet curtains, framed portraits of topless Southern belles and richly brocaded wallpaper. The lighting is dark and diffused, so dark you may have to squint even when the legs are spread and the goods are wiggled. And sure, there are some tramp stamp tattoos and clear heels clacking around, but overall, the quality of this meat is a solid B—better than what you typically get, strip club hounds tell us.

But here's the catch—at 4:15 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, you'll have to contend with a rather schlubby contingent of truck-stop types and shady dudes in jogging pants, all with glassy, seen-it-all stares. We saw three different naked, gyrating ladies in less than 30 minutes, so if you stick around for two hours, well, the cheap thrills add up—all for a total of $5 plus a tip to the waitress. True, it's rude not to tip the dancers. But these are tough times.

Not that Hustler Hollywood would know. The store in the emerging gay district on Church Street downtown reports solid sales and a cornucopia of cheap toys, proving that love on a budget can be just as exhilarating as paying big bucks for romance.

"Sex is always recession-proof," says manager Joshua Helton. "Believe it or not, we still push out our $150 Rabbits constantly," he says, referring to the rabbit-headed vibrator made popular on an episode of Sex and the City.

But what about the penny-pinching libidinous type who can't afford to blow a day's pay on such frivolity?

"The traditional Silver Bullets always fly off the shelves," Helton says. "It's just a little silver egg that you use for clitoral stimulation. It runs on double-A batteries and it's only $12.99. It may be little, but it's powerful as hell."

Though dudes are more inclined to drop a few bucks on mags and videos while women head for the vibrators and lubes, the store's line of male masturbators are enjoying stiff sales as well. "They come in bodies, mouths and butts," Helton explains. "And you get some of them for $7.99. I've tried them, and let me tell you, it's as good as it's ever gonna get without the real thing."

Even couples will find sex-enhancing toys for next to nothing at this Tower Records of porn. "Our best seller goes for $8.99, and it's basically a cock ring with vibrators on top and on bottom," Helton says with the enthusiasm of a salesman describing the latest Blu-Ray DVD player. "The guy wears it and this vibrator will hit your clitoris, and the other vibrator will also give him stimulation. Very cool."

If that fails, cuddle up with someone—anyone—who'll help keep the fires burning during these lean times. When one anonymous wit was asked what her three greatest pleasures in life were, it wasn't a retirement account, a steady job or a 30-year fixed rate. It was a martini before and a cigarette after.

Email tmoore@nashvillescene.com, or call 615-744-3362.