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Sobriety Sucks

Doing this Dry January thing for a week and a half has truly been an eye-opener.

My eyes are open and looking at the Corona I'm drinking and seeing that it only contains 0.5% alcohol.

(On the plus side, it tastes slightly less awful than the real thing. Corona, that is.)

All jokes aside, I have truly, through cleansing my body, been able to finally see the light: Sobriety sucks.

As we went to dinner with the in-laws last night for a belated Christmas get-together, it being Sunday, I treated myself to a glass of red wine. (That's not entirely true: my father-in-law paid.) Now, don't take this the wrong way: I love my in-laws, almost as if they had raised me (except then I wouldn't be so messed up!) During Christmastime, when I had to deal with my actual parents, I supplemented my normal daily six-pack of German lager with eggnog, brandy, spiced punch and Scotch.

Let that be a lesson. I never finished reading Duke Ellington's incredible autobiography, Music is My Mistress, but one little piece of advice always sounded beyond any wisdom of Solomon: 

"I gave up serious drinking when I turned 40."

But then, just like the original settlers in America, who didn't have the Etruscan gift of plumbing the Super Mario Bros. would lay down after they came to Ellis Island to flee Garibaldi's power-grab, let alone water treatment facilities to take away God's own free fishing and bathing rights from every Native, Black, or English man, woman & child: I trust that drinking beer is still healthier than water.

Cheers, mate! Celebrate Carnivale responsibly...(I wonder if being a monk is so tough after all. You don't have to deal with all the assholes in society, and then during lent you just live off of beer and pretzels for 40 days while God sends a flood to wash the sinners away...) 



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