You know, I don't think either of my POS B-I-Ls drink, at least not that much. Now, one of them ran the gamut from huffing paint fumes to whatever and he's only got enough brain cells left to talk about his Harley and beg for money. The other thought himself an outlaw and robbed the neighbors while my father-in-law paid them off to keep his ass out of prison. At around 45 he started working part time so my wife is delighted he has "turned his life around". In the next year, or so, he's set to inherit something in the low seven figures. Ain't life grand?
