This is hilarious to me, mostly because my dad owned a liquor carryout in the 70s and 80s and re-sold beer to clubs in dry towns like the Bremen Eagles or Darke County Fish & Game during midnight runs on Sundays, and I was riding shotgun from the age of 5. Growing up, this shit wasn't fiction... it was autobiographical.
It was a weird time.
It was a weird time.
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