As noted, the secret is out! Winger hootch appears in a jug much like an old-time bleach bottle, capped with a bright blue balloon. Said balloon is alleged to be the fermentation-meter, as in "If it ain't standin' up it ain't fit to consume," or sumpin' like that.
Anyhow, it ain't a bad-tastin' brew, particularly if semi-sweet grape Kool-aid is one of yer favorite flavors. Yew'd think yew were back in a chow line at Lejeune This much-ballyhoo'ed homemade brew had a faintly aromatic bouquet, a pleasantly light flavor and a certainly safe-fer-Wingers level of inebriant.
Although I applaud Edwardo's initiative and creativity, I consumed a polite measure, and returned to the beer (quite possibly the perfect beverage). 'Twas among the better home brews I've tasted since leaving New Jersey, but there ain't no mistakin' it fer the coal-mine-country cider of Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Oh yeah — the balloon was a tad limp, but I ain't goin' there no more than I was goin' fer additional comment on Mair's diapers.
Grunt versus Winger
Anyhow, once BullDawg arrived with Ina and Lori, we were all waiting fer the inevitable throwdown fer a showdown between him and Big Al. Well, folks, I gotta report that gentlemanly conduct ruled (no surprise, if ya know either of them), and once the BullDog and the Large One got to throwin' words, it seemed a nice little interlude in the otherwise raucous (Did I say that? More like jarhead-genteel!) evening.
I won't be the one to say that the presence of so many ladies inhibited either of them, least of all the B'Dawg, but since they were so kind to each other, I suspect that mighta had sumpin' to do with it. Coupla beers and a coupla passes at the vittles, and off we went to the patio. Nihil was much more interested in and adept at tellin' stories than he was in pickin' on the wingstruts, and he's got some beauts! We did hafta enlighten the uninitiated about the difference between a sea-story and a no-shitter — guess ya hadda be there (grin-grin).
I was fortunate enough to get a few goodies from the local recruiting establish- ment, notably from Gunny Jennifer Rice and Sgt. M.Y. Maxie, and to find a few extra bucks in my CPX fund to get some souvenirs from Sgt. Grit's store. We had us a drawing for a door prize — a copy of Zell Miller's Core Values. Ed drew Mair's name and she drew BullDawg's name, so he won the book.
If there's anyone who needs that book's advice less than Nihil does, I haven't met him or her yet. Anyhow, we all signed it for him and hope he does enjoy it.
All hands got an emblem pin, as we'd decided that since there wasn't nothin' but Marines present, and since one of us had been a thrill (oops!) drill instructor (albeit a wingaling), that those ladies present who hadn't gone to boot camp had suffered enough at the hands of the gents to earn them pins. They acted like true Marines, so they deserved 'em.
Sun sets — daylight fades — and evening brings forth the more mellow times
But wait! Before that daylight-fades stuff, we all went out fer pictures from a buncha 35-mm cameras, and even some of dat high-falutin' digital stuff. Surely, some will find their way to Radar's Photo Gallery.
Okay now, sun sets, daylight fades and evening etc., etc.
corn liquor
white lightning
sugar whiskey
skull cracker
popskull
bush whiskey
stump
stumphole
'splo
ruckus juice
rotgut
catdaddy
mule kick
hillbilly pop
white lightning
panther's breath
tiger's sweat
cats-a-fighting
alley bourbon
city gin
cool water
happy Sally
blue John
jump steady
see seven stars
old horsey
block and tackle
wild cat
Winger hootch
