It’s stupid but this was and remains my drink. I’m the kind to drink it on a stoop or under a bridge.
It used to be Colt .45. Caught some racist flak for that in Philly years ago. “Ain’t that what the jigs drink?” I suppose, but I don’t care. It works every time.
This is my bad mindset: I identify with the protagonist in 40 oz. to Freedom.
Probably a bad idea for someone on an anti-convulsive, lithum, and an anti-psychotic. I’ll think about that tomorrow.