When I can get a small group of friends to go to a Halloween party with me (yeah, I only have like one), I vow to go as one of those guys that worships Bill Brasky. You know, Bill Brasky, the guy who eats his children if he's hungry enough. When I am fortunate to do this, I will not be able to drink large glasses of scotch on the rocks--I'm to wimpy. Instead, I'll have large glasses of beer. People won't know who I am anyway, so it won't matter.
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