Well folks, after having a nap yesterday evening I awoke to THIS:
“Next time you and your pals get together after an LGBT meeting to write an article about me, try gettin your facts straight. 72 years sober today loser and I’m 96. Yous people with your darkie friends and your rainbow flags, jackasses.
You’ll never catch up to my sober time so yous mine as well Relapse tonight fairy.”
Okay,okay, okay, so I stand corrected on a couple things. Sorry, Morris.
Oh maaan, honestly. Here’s what I have to really wonder about: the emotional well-being of Morris’s poor sponsor.
Can you imagine it?!?? Stop and think about that – and really think about it – someone’s gotta do that job; someone’s gotta help him take his inventory.
…Sweet Baby Christmas. I don’t know whether I’d drink again, but I might well end up jumping out of a fucking window if I was his sponsor.
Hehe. I’d love to hear a recording of one of their telephone calls or Google Hangouts, actually. I think it would be the comedy highlight of my year listening to what pretty much amounts to – let’s face it – the Bad Grandpa of Alcoholics Anonymous recount his sins.