Twas a woman who drove me to drink, and I never had the courtesy to thank her
An asshole behind me in line at the liquor was talking about how he was working on a novel that was a sort of mix between James Joyce and Oscar Wilde, to this blonde, who was totally buying it. For the good of the literary world, a beating was the obvious thing to do. However, I realized that would endanger my getting drunk tonight, so I paid and left quickly. It's W.C. Fields' birthday, and I'll be damned if I'm staying sober.