But how would I find a drink in the middle

But how would I find a drink in the middle of nowhere? But I had some hope. Had to have. Whatever the challenge, I'd have to overcome. At that moment, I remembered Sofia, sweet

proprietor of the Apocalypse Tavern, who had given me a guide for emergency wasteland distillation techniques. As an alcoholic, I would find her obscure publication invaluable.

As an alcoholic I was in a black out. As an Alcoholic I would often wake up with unexplained bite marks and bruises on my body. As an alcoholic I'd really stopped caring about anyt

hing except that I was an alcoholic. My only friends were the DTs and I didn't need those kind of friends. I tried the 12 steps; especially if it got me a coffee and donut. A cigar

is a treat for an alcoholic, but just try to find a place to smoke one. Only other smokers like the aroma of a cigar. I was told “that cigar smells like shit” more times than I

summarily blacklisted from ever working in the entire cosmetics industry again, as well as most food service chains. I hate life and all the piddling weevils that infect it. I like

... What do I like? Finally, I understood. I like to annoy, to make people snort and roll their eyes. So I made my decision. I'd become a politician.

Do you know how hard it is to fake integrity, to be able to dance around questions, to be a grifter, a tyrant and be admired by the masses? Not hard at all. I'll campaign

. How hard can politics be anyway? Trump does it