a sensitive and sometimes, social injustice gets me down. Every time I see the news makes me want to mourn: inequality, hatred and irresponsibility are, without doubt, the evils of our time.
almost systematically, when I'm depressed I go to a bar and my belly full of whiskey. Not that I like this drink, but I love the picture. Great film, I know. I have my lashes snobs. Well, in this postmodern time what is left but a few good pictures?
Anyway, yesterday I spent a really nasty thing. Three out of five times I do my little liturgy in the bar, I get the same sentence to ask my liquor, "But if you're a penguin!". How to be penguin lover does not mean being the obvious ground prefabricated launch my response: "That does not mean it has no taste without which enjoy a good Scotch."
usually go and serve me as requested. But yesterday, a kid told me in an extremely unpleasant
"The truth is that being a difficult bird to taste something serious. For a mouth beak. That means you have a lousy sense of smell, sense important for the taste and also means that you have a few taste buds on the tongue. The few that have are on the bottom of the tongue and throat, so .... "
I interrupted with a gesture of disdain on my wing and looked to the other side. The boy looked at me sorry and went to get my beverage. Brought, charged me and left.
Those were the days where everything was clear. When all were college's own work and you could immerse yourself in the bar in the company of rednecks rewarding.
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