An Ode to Odious Drinking.

Having fun with a rhyme for rum. Less and less glum. If only whisky would have told me, vodka is the only thing that can hold me. Sipping, drinking, chugging, heaving, burping, downing, gulping, pouring, puking, restarting. A cheer for more beer - hooray! That burning liquid hits your stomach with a splash. Squish squish, the start of a rash. It nestles up next to that half-eaten kebab. Pulling it close, pretty soon it'll come out your nose. Hugging the sides of your innards. Making room for wine. Don't worry about the double vision, you'll be fine. Stumbling about town, every stranger with a frown. Get out of my way lady! I'm looking for a clown. Good ideas when drunk, thunk with a handful of skunk. He's bound to be around here somewhere. Get out here, you son of a bitch! Hey, what's that itch? A billy club opening up a stitch. A crack, a rattle and a sound. Here comes the ground. Why is it called The Tank? It's not even partially filled with liquid.

5 grams of glee.

Did you know that in Sweden you're not allowed to carry around more than 5 grams of glee at any one time? Anything more than that would be illegal. Above that amount and you're considered a dealer of delight, a pusher of joy. No, 5 grams is the sanctioned amount. It's not even enough to make you properly merry. But it is however enough to make you fine, without being too dandy. Scientific studies have shown that any more than 15 grams of glee can cause you to become more than happy, a dangerous mental condition. Afflicted with which you'll be put in a special institution. Locked away, prohibited from gladdening anyone's day. Society can only handle a specific amount of bliss each month. More than a specified amount and it would just become obscene. Felicity frenzy would break out! Gangs of gaiety would be rampaging up the streets spreading joviality all around. Pandemonium of positivity! I think I just gleed a little. Better clean up. Hand me my mirth-towel.