I am not a drinker,
but I like to drink.
A fine glass of Fetzer brings a smile to my aging face.
Vodka isn't so bad.
A mix of V and some other carbonated drink creates a rosey glow on my cheeks.
I won't lie at times of trouble I'd glance up at my cabinet, see that Black Velvet and pour me a round of whiskey.
It was delicious.
I'm not a drinker but I like to drink.
But nowadays I look at these kids. This drink isn't just a beverage. It's an excuse. They think that one bottle of this will grant them with the ability to engage in friendly conversation. The other day my niece had a little party. She's quiet. 21 and quiet. But after two Mikes she was talking to everyone. By the end of the night everyone knew her name. Half of her conversations made no sense.
Kids see these drinks as assurance to be complete imbeciles. This one boy at the party started cursing. I just sat there. Watched him go around, kiss a girl then describe her as the ugliest creature he had ever seen.
All these actions: the cursing, the debauchery. All of these actions would be forgiven the next morning. "He was drunk. No worries. He didn't mean that."
How has such a simple beverage become an excuse to be free?to engage in unmoral behavior?
The day I start drinking to have fun, or to be "crazy", well I, I hope I'm dead before that day arrives.
Then again I am married at 52 with prostrate cancer. Half of these words might be coming from all those narcotics.
Pass me that brandy dear.
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