Throwing Poo

This week I've been weighing the merits of becoming an alcoholic.  Given that my career has become a live-action version of the Dilbert cartoon and the outside temperature has averaged a bone-snapping 8 degrees, it seemed like a good time to test-drive this frequently misunderstood alternative lifestyle. 

The first thing I noticed during my excessive consumption is what a tremendous contribution an alcoholic can make towards a community recycling program.  Since my preferred libations are Guinness and Smithwicks beers, I am accumulating a wealth of recyclable glass bottles.  Should I decide to not recycle, the impact on the environment will be immediate and horrible.  Bottom line: alcoholism is very empowering. 

Second, being a mongrel American, I don't feel any real connection to the past.   In my family, there are no fancy headdresses, no exotic dishes, no rites of passage.  The only thing that seems to carry on throughout our family history is an apparent overwhelming desire to "get some strange." 

Alcoholism provides the connection that I feel is missing.  Some of you may know that beer is the oldest known man-made beverage.   Beer was both ancient currency and a religious sacrament.  It fueled the slaves who built the Egyptian pyramids (This begs the question: is it merely coincidence that men drinking massive amounts of beer often stack the empty cans in a pyramid?  Or is there some kind of "Close Encounter Of the Third Kind"' thing going on here?  Did I just blow your mind?).   It fostered grain production and, ultimately, the progression towards modern civilization.  Beer gets things done.  When I drink beer, I'm imitating and celebrating the history of mankind. 

There is a third point as well, but for some reason I've been having trouble remembering things this week.  One thing I do remember is that there are four Smithwicks, three Guinness draughts, and four Sam Adams in the fridge.  I know this because I've checked three times today already.  With pyramids to build and global warming to control, I need to be sure I'm prepared.