Weekend Open Bar: It Was An Illusion. Even A Pleasant One For Some

The bar is open early, friends. It’s Thanksgiving Eve here on the eastern arm of the Empire. I’m blessed enough to have the rest of the week off. So why not let the Asgardian ale flow already? So why not let the Martian space spice be smoked already? I have no good reasons for why not to, I have no good explanations. All I know is that life is too short, too vicious for even the most blessed, to not seize upon moments of revelry with you and yours.

Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.

What a treat, what a delight. Dark nights, warm fires. This is the time of year for me, folks. This is the time of year. What a treat, what a delight. Baked goods, the fellowship of friends and family.

Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.

So I ask you, friends. What are you up to for Thanksgiving? Eating until you shit, eating until you puke, eating until you smile? What are you up to on Black Friday? Throwing elbows and crunching errant grandmother skulls to get to the front of the line for a 4K TV? What are you up to for the rest of the prolonged weekend? What are you eating, reading, playing, drinking, smoking, thinking, celebrating, mourning?

Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.

It’s a lovely night, it’s a lovely week, and you’re all lovely. Let’s spend this holiday together.