I’ve had this one in the can for awhile. This seemed like an appropriate time for it to drop, as you’ve been quickly brought up to speed on the first 30 years or so of my evolution here and here.

Debt, Divorce and Drinking. The Triple Crown! I had my first alcoholic drink in New Jersey at around age 13. It was from a bottle of Southern Comfort my friend swiped from his folks. We drank from it in a tiny little fort we built from materials scavenged from construction sites into the side of a hill on the edge of a woods in an empty lot across the street from my house. You might wonder how or why I had any interest in continuing to drink after tasting that godawful swill. Good question. I guess I was committed to escaping. Or looking cool. Or something! Blech.