In Vino Veritas, In sobriety...what? Weed? Girlfriends?
Alcohol, a common ground with so many holes drilled, I love thee. "Tonight make me unstoppable", I pray. Benevolent god of rye and peanut shells, allow me to win. When I trip over human debris, let me hold my friends up so they don't step in it also, but give me the wisdom to laugh my balls off when they do.
Allow me to go the way of Bill, the prophet with tunnel vision, who found the lord by mightily whipping off the used condom and sticking it to the wall above his bed like a vinyl U2 sticker everytime he "smote" a chubby one. That is fuckin funny.
Reward me with good stories. Curb intentionally the stories about being sober and making some damn internal discovery about "what you want in life", for these are terrible stories. "Good for you John Boy, but where are the tits and inflatable goalposts?"
Socrates was a DRUNK FUCK. "Jesus, CO, and my last PO", were not.
I pray, to the patron saint of "same again", progenitor of the buy-back, and lover of those cold and stumbling.
Furthermore, oh god of chirping birds at 5 am, I rebuke thee. Begone foul fowl, back to hell with you.