My friend Mark Twain came by t'other evening as I was sittin on the back porch as the clock ticked on toward midnight. His wayward spirit was a bit troubled by the release of the his autobiographies and was concerned that his public might find his final views on things quarrelsome and intolerant (of fools). 'Not by me', says I, 'but I may be on my way to becoming a quarrelsome, intolerant (of fools) old man my own self'.
Being his observant self, he saw I was asippin a bourbon and ask could I give him a sip of Old Crow and I had some. My curious nature forbade me from telling him that mayhap Old Crow might not be the best choice, so I poured him a sip. He no more than put it to his lips and spat it out and said, 'Good thing I died when I did, if this is what folks are drinking these days!'
'Let me give you something that's a mite better', says I. I got him a sip of Wild Turkey Kentucky Spirit and that pleased him plenty.
'Good bourbon!', says he and then he said. 'I don't suppose the politicians today are any better than those we had in my day?'
'Nope', says I.
'And I reckon you got more than your fair share of know it all blowhards shouting from the rooftops about how to fix everything', says he.
'Yep', says I.
'Well', says he, 'How's your dog?'
'Talks too much', says I.
'Just like mine', says he.
'Lemme give you somethin special'. says I. And I pour him a sip of Four Roses 100th Anniversary bourbon.
He took a sip and says, 'Most good enough to raise the dead'. He saw the look on my face and replied with a sly grin.
We watched the stars awhile, admiring the beautiful evening and the wonder of it all until I fell asleep. When i awoke about 2:00 P.M. the bottle of FR was about empty and Mark Twain was gone.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas