#14
Al-key-hol
I’m not the type to take mind-altering substances. Some mixture of the years of child-targeted propaganda campaigns, fear of vomiting and having lived for some six years with a man who, in retrospect, was an alcoholic has put me rather off the idea. I don’t enjoy the notion of losing control, and I’ve never found myself particularly happy in the company of drunk people. I don’t find their lack of balance and coherent speech patterns riotous fun, like many other people seem to. Due to these circumstances, I’ve found myself pretty much avoiding alcohol my entire life, during which time I’ve been able to form a hypothesis: what if drunkards are faking it?
Picture the scene - two ancient-timey bros are testing out their new juicer with some hops and grains and such.
Guy 1: Hey, brah, this barley juice is NASTY, yo.
Guy 2: I know, mang, it’s messed-to-the-up.
Guy 1: Let’s leave it behind the radiator for a few weeks to see if that makes it better, Broseph.
The guys do just that, and come back in a month’s time.
Guy 1: Hey, bromosexual, this shizzle still tastes like my uncle’s socks.
Guy 2: I know, sweet brome Alabama, it’s like there’s a corpse in my mouth.
Guy 1: But we made like a billion pints of this, my dawg, what are we s’posed to do now?
Guy 2: We should totally sell it to noobs and make ‘em think it makes you all happy and stuff.
Guy 1: Oh, it is ON to-the-break-of-dawn.
And thus began a long journey, creating one of the most popular industries around today, and all based on a lie to get rid of some unwanted grain juices. People then came up with all the stuff about it making you lose your inhibitions so they could be dicks to each other without consequence. Or something like that.
