Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Chucking

I often joke about retiring and opening a beach bar in the Caribbean, Dongo’s by the Sea. (Check out dongosbythesea.com). In fact one of my best ideas is to open a floating bar in the middle of the Grand Bahama Bank. Talk about remote! I can’t figure out how to make that one possible, but what fun it would be!

I really like my job, but sometimes the idea of just chucking it all and embracing each day having fun really appeals. Hey, I liked the movie, “Running Scared,” and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” plays on many of my playlists. Could I do it? Probably not…yet.

I was chatting with my neighbor just this morning. We joked about how happy the bums are, standing in the sunshine on beautiful Southern California days, while the schmucks are toiling away in offices staring at computer screens and getting stomach cancer. Yes, I am one of the schmucks.

Back in the day, I would have pointed to my possessions; my many toys and cool electronic gizmos, and said: the bums don’t have all these nifty things! Nowadays, however, two things have changed. First, I don’t seem to care about possessions as much, and second, the bums are doing a good job of keeping up with the gizmos.

Where will I be in 10 years? Under an overpass in LA? Asleep in the sun on St. Lucia? In the ground, feeding the worms? Or still chained to this desk…?

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Demon Rum

'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