Hold My Beer


 I'm not a big drinker, and when I do drink my choice of wine is Arbor Mist. It's sweet and fizzy, with the teeniest amount of alcohol. I cannot drink beer. If I drink two glasses I become wobbly. Growing up with an alcoholic parent I witnessed the change as beer cans popped opened. My mother just wilted away. She never really changed from her first beer to her twelfth. But, drunks drink together so my sisters and I had front row seats to the Jekyll/Hyde transformation. Big burly men changed into blubbering piles of goo. Sweet little ladies swore like sailors and walked with the same sea legged gait.

There was only one man who scared me because he switched from a mild mannered Clark Kent to a miserable being who insulted women until they cried. He would then wobble over to the nearest fellow and put him in a chokehold until he was brought down by five men and the sailor gal.

Marc Rubio's bodyguard recently got into some sort of kerfuffle in Brussels after he demanded a bar be reopened, just for him. He was promptly arrested. We aren't exactly welcome across the pond anymore, especially when the offender is three sheets to the wind.

I watch YouTube videos while the rest of America sleeps. Besides viewing kittens being cute, I watch people being kicked off planes for being a bag of Richards. I don't think it's just the booze talking. Other ingredients have been added, along with a giant suitcase of hubris. These new addled brain fools are a different species from what I grew up with. I shake my head in wonderment. 

Oh, hey, maybe with the tariffs placed on every country including Heard Island where the penguins reside, perhaps we'll see a decline in outrageous behavior!

...

Or, not.

*AI generated image using Freepik 


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