Sitting beside me is a can of the notorious Special Brew. Shorn of its old label—and shined into bougie respectability—this imposturous lager possesses just 7% alcohol compared to the once brain-belting nine percent ABV.
After sitting calmly like a Hindu cow, nothing magical happened. Something was AWOL. That sedative, oily glow as it seeps into one’s brain, healing and soothing the neural pathways like a dose of EST—nothing. Gone is the beauty of Special Brew.
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