The Flaming Squirrel Cage

There's a story in our text about a man who stops by a restaurant for lunch and decides at some point that he could have a shot of whiskey as long as he put it in a glass of milk.  He tries this a few times during one luncheon with sterling results until he drinks a lot more and wakes up in Peoria, IL, unsure as to how he got there.  I know the question that's on everyone's mind: why the hell would anyone ruin a good glass of whiskey by mixing it with the vile fluid that comes from the teats of a mama cow?  I tried literally every drink known to man but I never mixed a perfectly good liquor with milk.  Bleech.

I used to do medicinal LSD so I'm not qualified to comment in depth on this story.

One of the most popular images of the morning meeting the last few weeks has been The Flaming Squirrel Cage.  It's pretty common to have someone talk about getting on the treadmill or into the hamster cage, but a guy adding the flaming part has really struck a cord.  I can just see myself, hung-over, beat to shit, still singed from a long day in The Flaming Squirrel Cage, getting up and walking dejectedly over to the smoldering contraption, ladling a goodly amount of gasoline all over it, lighting a match and then climbing in, one more time, one more time.

There was a woman attending her first meeting today.  She was overdressed.  I'm guessing she expected a different crowd than the one she got.  I still say the bravest thing I ever did, the hardest thing, was walking into my first meeting.