I like good taste.
This does not mean I have good taste. Let me make that distinction before it is thrust upon me.
I am one of those odd people who has never smoked marijuana, taken recreational drugs or chugged beer.
It isn’t a moral issue to me.
It isn’t any kind of sense that I am superior by abstaining.
It’s just that I’m a “watcher.”
Yes, if I had been a cave man, I would have stood back and observed what happened when my buddies ate the berries from a nearby bush, to see if they keeled over and died. I might have had a growling belly while I watched them devour the treats, but then would have been very grateful later as I saw them convulsing on the ground–delighted I delayed.
I never liked what beer does to people, and I certainly found it to be personally distasteful.
Marijuana always seemed to take people to a different place, when I was completely satisfied with the place I had located, renovated and furnished inside me.
People who drank beer also smelled of beer, or threw up a lot. (And by the way, as bad as the brew may be going in, it is even worse coming out.)
I’m always reluctant to discuss this matter because it seems I’m taking a self-righteous profile against Milwaukee’s finest. But honestly, I’ve been to Milwaukee, and the frothing stuff in the brown bottles is not their finest.
So I have come to the same conclusion on the subject with beer that I have with many things I’ve encountered in my life:
- I’m glad you enjoy it.
- I’m not preaching against it.
- But I would rather not participate.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix