Och Aye!

Whoowee! Today I feel that I am climbing out of a 4 day hangover. If only I'd had the orgiastic bender to precede it. Sure, it's always fun to see Dr. Kunta, quite a laugh, really. Almost makes the trip worthwhile. But no, no crazy wall-eyed drunken joyful moments to think back on, perhaps be embarrassed by.

Out of consideration of my much abused liver, I have not had a drink in almost two weeks. It seems like the least I can do, given that chemo drugs and cancerous lesions are making their own little party in hepatic tissue. The last time I gave up my customary drink, a couple of years ago for Lent, my brain took on a life of its own. 40 days without anesthetic gave it a lift like a rocket. Lord knows what I could do, had I never had a drink. At the time, I could attend a conference call with 6 people on the other end. A week later I could still remember all their names and job functions. My memory was sharp. My thoughts were clear. In the end, the lovely malt called to me, and back to my nominal numbness I returned.

From this, you can see the historical pattern developing. Drink is an international conspiracy to keep the Scotsman down. Without drink, the Scot becomes a superman, the Nietzchean UberMench. During the 19th century, the Scots were growing in influence and power administering the British Empire, controlling the tobacco trade. Then, the man dropped a bottle on the beaches of Camusdarrach and called it Scotch. Since then, the steady decline. Today, the Scot is undistinguished, except for Gordon Brown and Mike Meyers, living a life of quiet mediocrity, enjoying the happy bubble of wee scotch and soda. But, look out! James R. Thomson, from County Huntington, has gone dry!