Well, I hope to be able to drink tonight. It’s been a rough week, health-wise. Bad food poisoning Sunday night; 2.5 hours in a dental chair on Wednesday. I was barely among the living on Thursday, just going through the motions. I’m hoping to rebound today so I can throw back a few with two of my sons who are coming in for the weekend.
The reference to The Bob Newhart Show yesterday reminded me of a sophisticated drinking game I used to play: The Bob Game. We’d sit around with beer, watching The Bob Newhart Show. Whenever someone said “Bob,” everyone had to take a drink. It was a lot more brutal than it sounds.
Well, it ain’t cool, but it was worth a shot: “Longford man who was intoxicated at a convent asked nuns for drinking money.” Link. It was, after all, the “Convent of Mercy,” and located in Ireland. One might be forgiven for thinking “mercy” and “alcohol” go together in the mad world of the Irish:
The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.
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