The God Given Right to Hangovers
Well, maybe not a ‘God given right’, but most certainly a right honored since time immemorial. Not hangovers specifically, but the road to that filthy abomination that strikes without mercy come the cruel morning hour. You got it, 75 years ago (or three score and fifteen years ago, if you like Lincoln), a great man with great vision gave back to Americans the right to get hammered.
Legally drunk that is. Prohibition never really stopped people from getting drunk, though the repercussions were a mite worse than a headache in the morning.
Yes a midnight 7 April 1933 the country rejoiced as alcohol once more flooded our streets (and seeing as how they were lacking that famed ‘gold’ fill, it was twice as a much a drunken celebration). And the mighty American heart responded with divine vigor and furious main…I cannot imagine the pained awakenings the next day. And I don’t want to; I’ve had many a suicide inducing hangover of my own. I blame the Air Force for the majority of those, just so you know.
But tonight is reason to celebrate, reason to imbibe the fermentation of wheat and grape, and whatever else we ingenious humans have managed to turn into booze. 75 glorious years of alcoholic freedom! To ignore this most prestigious and holy of days is to renounce all claims to words like ‘freedom’ and ‘American’ and ‘Wow, if I hadn’t been plowed I wouldn’t be in this shitstorm this morning’.
So, the above holy text fresh in that alcohol starved mind, leave now the confines of sobriety and venture forth into that hazy and dizzying universe of alcoholic bliss! Go forth and prosper! And let fall the legions of vacuum sealed bottles!
And I am out…to follow my own advice.