I don’t think that alcohol has ever been associated with anything really good in anyone’s life. When I think of alcohol, I think of an old man dressed in a scrubby pair of slacks, ripped flannel shirt and a long overcoat full of dirt and holes. He is sitting on a discarded five-gallon pail next to an oil-drum fire deep in the heart of suburban America. In his right hand he clutches a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and he sings a sour tune while pouring it down his throat. More than likely he had to nearly beg for the money to buy it. ....