I had thought long and hard about a suitable title, I suppose to sum it up I could have also titled it 'Why I Drink'. Quickly to the point: Would there have been this heightened terror in the aisles of CVS 30 years ago? I think not. Not a bottle of Purell to be found, unless you're ready for an 8 oz bottle for a Benjamin thanks to our fearless Amazonian leader. I have to cling to the one story that gives me hope. A Briton living in Wuhan had contracted the virus and swears that he nursed himself back to health with hot toddies. At least that's one area always in ample supply. So don't bother, I've bought out the whiskey already. And I won't be waiting for the first sniffle to start drinking, either. I weep for the future, but at least I will do so comfortably numb.
Fuck the Purell, hand me the Jameson!
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