It’s that time again, folks. Weekend Open Bar, folks. I’ll level with you: I’m tired. I’ll level with you: I have nary an ounce of creative juice to squeeze out of my mind-guts, and that’s if you’re being optimistic and crediting me with creativity on occasion. But. Hey. It’s that time again, folks. Weekend Open Bar, folks. Someone has got to turn on the neon lights. Someone has got to make sure the hearth is lit. Someone gotta hook up the draught. That’s me, that’s me, that’s me! None the less, outside of that fact, with that taken into consideration, I’m pretty fucking good.

A little fatigued, a little woozy, a little weary. But here! Here, dammit.

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