I play in a band here called the Siderunners. One of the other guys in the band has an uncle we call Uncle Nick who's kind of a hillbilly--he's been known to carry moonshine in the trunk of his car. One night he says to me, "I'm just back from the still. You gotta try this new 'shine." So I go out and he opens the trunk and there are these Depression-era mason jars filled with a clear liquid that tastes like a cross between tequila and kerosene. I think I took maybe two good pulls--that's all you really need. When I walked back in I noticed a woman I hadn't seen in about five years sitting with a fella who could have been either a street person or one of those shabby geniuses. When he went to the restroom my friend explained that it was an Internet date and that she was totally freaked out but was trying to play it off. Once we were on the same page we shut the guy down and he got the message and took off. We presume he went out and found Uncle Nick and his moonshine. That's the only way he was going to have a happy ending that night.
--Andy Abrisz, musician