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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Richard Weaver


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A Bartender poured himself

into his job, studying mixology when he wasn't tending, drinking when he wasn't
sleeping. He imagined new concoctions that would amaze Richard Feynman and
Stephen Hawking, two teetotalers. His dream: to merge physics and fermentation,
to embrace and capture the galaxy therein, to excite a mouth of gold teeth or
lead fillings. In such a world kidneys and bladder are anathema. Something to
be overcome. His goal is simple, not mere intoxication. He seeks the perfect
near-death experience. A glimpse of the promised. A God-winking hint of what
is to come, chased with a final soberness, its memory etched in every cell.