Oh God! I just took a sip of a long-standing Lucifer Sweetly's, which has been sitting on my desk at ex-work for months, just sitting here, short and stout and sweet and dark and brown and bubbly. Lucifer Sweetly's Cellar Door, brewed up on our very own Ranch by one of our very own, Harry Pottash. And I'm sitting here just drinking it and tasting its goodness and foam and fizz. And now the moment is fleeting, but the thick brown afterswell of sweet yeasty fullness reminds me that all of our moments fleet, and that if we allow ourselves to exist as a fleet of moments, then we can parade the corridors of its every battleship and cruiser like it was our birthday, and John F. Kennedy himSELF is the king.
Here is a picture!
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