Let me start by saying that I F***ING hate Joakim Noah. Really can't stand that dirt bag. When he dropped that quote dogging C-Town last year I wanted to burn his house down and put a size 12 wading boot between that massive gap in his teeth. But, as much as it pains me to say it, I think he was right about one thing: It's bad out there y'all.
I'm suffering from a nasty case of seasonal depression. Today I was looking for a way out, but found it hard to motivate myself to get out onto all that shelf ice. In the end I put the hound on the scent in search of open water. There wasn't much to be found and what we did find yielded no fruit.
The good news:
There is none. Depending on how bad things get I may be sampling some seriously vintage spirits pretty soon...
Who wants to pay for my flight to Mexico?