Paragraph 1: Like, when I see those strongly pro-American Chrysler commercials, the ones where the winner of the Bruce Springsteen Sound-Alike Contest sings about how The Pride Is Back, the ones where Lee Iacocca himself comes striding out and practically challenges the president of Toyota to a Knife fight, I get this warm, pound feeling inside, the same kind of feeling I get whenever we hold routine naval maneuvers off the coast of Libya. Paragraph 2: What we are talking about, according to commercials, is that Miller is by god an American beer, “born and brewed in the U.S.A.,” and the men who drink it are American men, the kind of men who aren’t afraid to perspire freely and shake a man’s Hand. Paragraph 3: Maybe shaken hands is just their simple straightforward burly masculine American patriotic way of saying to each other: “Floyd, I am truly sorry I drank all that Miller beer last night and went to the bathroom in your glove compartment.” I have noticed that sometimes, in addition to shaking hands, they hug each other.
Paragraph 4: You see them all getting together and pushing up a brand-new wall. Me, I worry some about a house built by men drinking beer. Paragraph 5: This almost always produced unfortunate results, such as the time we were trying to move Dick “The Wretch” Curry from a horrible fourth-floor wall-up apartment in Manhattan’s Lower East Side to another horrible fourth-floor walk-walk up apartment in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, and we hit upon the labor-saving concept of , instead of carrying The Wretch’s possessions manually down the stairs, simply dropping them out the window, down onto the street, where The Wretch was racing around, gathering up the broken pieces of his life and shrieking at us to stop helping him move, his emotions reaching a fever pitch when his bed, which had been swinging wildly from a rope, entered the apartment two floors below his through what had until seconds earlier...