MUSIC / BILL (THE FOX) FOSTER : Brews Singer : He has a repertoire of ‘bawdy songs, barroom ballads, rugby songs.’ Of course, he drinks beer standing on his head.

Drinking used to be cool, except during Prohibition, when it was merely profitable for people who are now featured on “The Untouchables.” In just about any black and white movie everybody seemed to drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and wear a funny hat. “One for the road” was the golden rule from sea to shining sea.

Drinking was acceptable and even funny. Red Skelton and Jackie Gleason portrayed lovable drunks on network television. Everyone had an Uncle Ernie who was stuck for an answer when you said “hello,” had about 20 502s and a heart of gold. Everyone thought he was funny until he passed out with a lit cigarette and burned the house down.

You didn’t need a second mortgage to afford a beer because it was cheap. Burgie, Schlitz, Coors, Pabst, Blatz, Lucky Lager, Falstaff and Hamms were less than five bucks a case. Remember Brew 102? Thirty-two cents a quart. There wasn’t any broken glass at the beach, because beer came in cans and you needed a church key to open one. I’ll bet the cops miss the good ol’ days of Basically Beer, or Before Drugs, Drive-bys, Guns, and Gangs.

This story may be about beer, but not about drinking and driving, not about MADD, .08, checkpoints and cops. Obviously, a lot of people like beer--Budweiser sells about a zillion cans of “The King of Beer” every second--and, seemingly, sports is fueled by beer. So is Bill (The Fox) Foster, the self-described “all-around maniac.”

He’s bringing his brewski brouhaha to Toes Tavern in Santa Barbara on Friday night. Foster, whose resume is seeping with suds, has an odd claim to fame. He can down a beer faster than you can spell “glug glug.” This guy and his piano will doubtlessly be the strangest opening act that J.D.’s Last Ride, those rockabilly ravers, have ever had.

“I’m basically a means for people to relax,” said Foster during a recent phone interview. “At a party, when I’m done, everybody is talking. I’m sort of a professional icebreaker. I drink beer standing on my head. I drink a beer in two-tenths of a second. I can drink a liter of beer in 2 1/2 seconds, but my show lasts for an hour, hour and a half. What do I do with the rest of the time?

“I’m a musical therapist. I think everyone needs musical therapy without having to be institutionalized.”

Don’t stretch your ears out of shape waiting for any Fox music on the wretched radio. His songs are a little risque, nasty, and perhaps pretty funny for those who find it possible to slide about 157 brewskis down their chicken necks. It’s frat rock at the lowest common denominator, much as beer is the alcoholic lowest common denominator. He’s like Benny Hill or your nephew in the fourth grade.

“I use the F-word a lot, as in fun ,” said Foster. “My songs are energetic and risque; bawdy songs, barroom ballads, rugby songs. I try and do songs everybody knows because everybody is in the chorus. I do limericks. If you know one, you get to sing it.

“Fathers bring their daughters. Daughters bring their mothers. And anyone who has seen my show during the last 30 years will be there. People just start singing and having a good time. It’s like a big campfire--an adult campfire.”

Just as ruts are a boon to alignment shops, and chocolate factories are a dentist’s best friends, Foster’s mere presence is a boon to the bar. One would naturally assume that Foster is drunker than a skunk, higher than a Chinese bottle rocket and singing one-syllable lyrics by the time his act is over.

“No one has ever outdrank me, but I don’t do it for pure gluttony,” said Foster. “Your body changes after you turn 25 and all those calories turn to fat. Usually I only drink about a six-pack or so during a show, and I water down my beers because of the calories. You know, I drink beer upside down, but I just had hernia surgery two weeks ago and my doctor didn’t want me to drink beer upside down, but sometimes you have to.”

Many years ago, Foster, like almost everybody else, moved to California. After going to college in Kalamazoo in his native Michigan, he wanted to continue his education in the University of California system but ended up going to Santa Monica City College and playing piano in a bar. He never went back to school, but for 28 years he had his own bar, where he perfected his act.

The list of venues where Foster has chug-a-lugged for the lugs is six pages long. Foster still performs at least four times a week, mostly at L.A. nightspots and usually packs any joint he plays. This will be Foster’s third appearance at Toes, and he expects his S.B. rugby buddies to make this gig a sellout. He’s also made numerous TV appearances, been to Europe--he’s drunk his way around the world. Despite his years of guzzling, Foster has had only one alcohol-related arrest.

“I got one many years ago, but they reduced it to reckless driving,” he said. “Let me say that I will not be driving home after the show. I’ll be staying at the Red Lion Resort that night.”

* WHERE AND WHEN

Bill (The Fox) Foster and J.D.’s Last Ride at Toes Tavern, 416 State St., Santa Barbara, 9 p.m.-ish. Three bucks. 965-4655.