The Sanity Psalms
Drunkenness should be supported more in public life.
I was just sitting around downing bottles of
Samuel L. Jackson’s Shithouse Porter
(with the occasional Fish House Stout),
and I was listening to Mickey & The Wifebeaters’ latest album,
Top Ten Suicidal Truck Driver Songs, when I realized
neither Jesus nor Pterodactyls are in the Constitution.
I heard a heavenly voice say,
“You have made drunkenness respectable, sir,” except no, no,
that voice was my drunk uncle, known to all his nieces as
Drunkula (for creeping around rooms at night in search of a kiss
and asking, “Mind if I pee in your hamper?”),
but this time instead of creeping my drunk uncle taught me
the fool-proof, guaranteed 100%, Three Step Formula for Success
passed down for generations in our clan. Step one, set a goal.
Step two, forget about it. Step three, do something else.
He had the evidence to back it up; he declared,
“I got a paycheck last week, I don’t know about you.”
This was late night stoner TV, without the pictures.
The guy became pretty annoyed and started rambling about his
brain being ripped apart by angels. That one I knew because
at school they taught us the Hall of Fame is in Franch, everybody’s
drunk uncle stumbling around the neighborhood. So, yeah,
if wrong were a country, he’d be the capitol.