I used to be the kind of man who would waste his hard-earned money on expensive liquors. I would shell out wads of cash for bottles of Laphroaig or Glenlivet, Plymouth and Tanqueray. I would spend hours trying to mix the perfect Old Fashioned or Martini.
Vanity of vanities! St Paul teaches us that the world is passing away, so let he who has money live as if he had none.
So I started buying cheap booze like I were a bum. Why spend $40 on a bottle of scotch when you can get just as buzzed with a $7 bottle of blackberry brandy and can of diet Sprite? Why shell out good money for hand-crafted vodka which tastes only of water when for a fraction of the price you can buy vodka off the discount rack that tastes like pomegranates, or chocolate, or ley-lime pie?
A game I play with my close friends, people I have no need to impress, is to see who can buy the cheapest bottle of alcohol to go with the evening’s festivities, and come up with a way to make it taste good. It is fun.
That doesn’t mean I don’t like expensive stuff anymore, or will never buy it again, but that living in an apocalyptic age means dropping pretense and enjoying the simple, dumb things again, like blackberry brandy and sprite.