You know, I’m a lush who can’t hold my liquor too; and I don’t generally waste too much time passing judgment on other drunks who have a problem when it comes to bending the elbow, if you know what I mean. BUT, if I ever fell off the wagon and drank myself to the point of being approximately four fifths of a single beer over the legal driving limit, a whopping .12 BAC, I like to think that I would not go off on the arresting officer while accusing the jews of being responsible for all of the world’s wars. It would take AT LEAST four beers and maybe two scotches to get me there.

But then again, I was not raised in, nor am I the major financial contributor of a fanatical religious fringe group whose biggest issue with the Catholic church seems to be that the Church no longer hates the jews enough. I was raised to blame all the world’s problems on white southerners, republicans and arabs. You get two and a half beers in me and BOY, white southerners, republicans and arabs, WATCH OUT, because my tongue starts lashing like a numerary self-flagellant!

Reason #472 that I don’t drink anymore: The one thing white southerners, republicans and arabs have in common is that they all can fight better than I. Excluding, of course, Truman Capote, Shirley Temple and the Egyptian Army.

Oh, I’m just kidding, people. I was always a happy drunk.