'Tis the season, and I am a fan of the Christmas cheer!
Twice in as many days, I have quoted one of my more popular dongoisms:
Vodka is my friend, Tequila is my enemy,
But Rum is my lover.
Soon, I will attend a holiday party. I am really looking forward to it, but there is one ominous warning thundering through my subconscious:
Mix ye not, the grape and the grain!
At this party, I expect to sample some of the more potent versions of Christmas cheer. Among them, the vile Blackout. Now, I am quite the campaigner and long steeped in evil. I fear not for myself, but for those gentle souls that have not my long-practiced experience with degradation and personal defilement. I fear for them. For to turn your back on Blackout is to invite catastrophe, and to mix red wine with Blackout is folly most grievous. How do I warn these gentle souls?
And this from two millennia ago:
Bibamus moriendum est
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