It was a sweltering August day at the track.

It was a sweltering August day at the track. I needed Moneymaker to Show to save my month. I also needed to relax so I sparked some doobage. Took a puff and passed it to my grandma

who gratefully accepted. She depended on the green medicine so she could sleep at night. She'd been having nightmares since some crazy antiquarian cleared out her attic and made

ares to become pretentiously empowering, and she would accuse others of being hipsters in her sleep. Maybe trying to cure her night scares with irony had gone over /too/ well.

She began to wear Doc Martens and more black and grey instead of red or green. Suddenly her colours matched! Miracle of miracles, her doctor proclaimed in his diagnosis of bipolar.

You got to have your demons. There is no way around that. If yours are Doc Martens you have to step lightly.

Because a well-intentioned grapevine could wreak havoc when performed in Doc Martens.

But Doc Martens were great for stomping grapes. Just ask the hooligan stompers at the Skinhead Vineyard. "Drink our wine or we'll pound your face" was their motto. They made a fine

Pinot Grigio but their red was for shit. Doc Martens or not their grape stomping methods left something to be desired. Who buys wine made by skinheads you ask? Me too. How does

one bring themselves to purchase canned wine? The logo that features a crucified Jesus on their Chilean Malbec was too ironic to pass up. Canned wine is indeed the future!