der var engang en mand.

der var engang en mand.

Hans hår var hvidt som sne.

I turned the television off. I'd had enough of Ingmar Bergman's black and white films about Swedish chef-talkin' ladies losing their minds. I had my own mind to lose, and time was

tinkling away like the loose change in my pockets. I had prepared for many months for this evening; it wasn't every day the opportunity to get fundamentally blotto presented itself

and getting trashed on scotch from the Senator's own collection was a boon. I headed into the party. As I passed the kitchen, the door swung open for a fleeting second, and I saw

blacked out faster than a speeding bullet. I woke up two weeks later with a dead pony and missing one shoe. I was a superhero. I was Super Sloshed Man.

I could make other people drunk just by staring at them. I could bounce a check faster than the Federal government. My bar tabs knew no bounds. And my arch-nemesis was Sobriety

Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the Lohans, I will fear no judgement. His rod and his staff, they comfort me. My cups runneth over and I

laugh in the face of the Lohans. And laugh in the face of the Zohan. And just laugh. And laugh. Ha.