Think-A-Holic Lounge

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Head Game

Even at the edge of the space-time continuum, where places like Think-A-Holic Lounge can exist without taking up any physical space in the universe, people know that nothing sells a product like its packaging. Even Angus McCloud, our big-ass head bartender (and the 400-year-old ghost of a dead poet from Scotland) knows that you can sell gullible people shit by the bucketful if you make it look like gourmet food.

Ol' Angus even went one step further than that this past week when he got the big, bright idea that think-a-hol wasn't selling as well as it should, like the "joy juice" everybody thought it was. Well, hell, I can tell you why it's not selling very well anymore. Think-a-hol was invented to make people think and it's quite obvious that thinking isn't much of a pastime anymore for anyone. Except for me, of course, and a handful of faithful regulars at Think-A-Holic Lounge.

So, Angus came up with a little packaging gimmick this past week and, I've got to give the old spook credit, it seems to be a real winner. One of the local distillers of think-a-hol agreed to re-package his product in a black bottle with a brand-new new label on it (see pic).

It's the exact same think-a-hol elixir that all the distilleries on this side of the cosmos use, with a little something extra inside: blue food coloring, which makes the amber think-a-hol look like ghoulish, green "devil booze". None of us Lounge lizards can stomach the sight of the stuff or its dark-ass packaging but, ever since the repackaging deal, Death-A-Hol has become the number-one-selling elixir at Think-A-Holic Lounge. Go figure.

(I'd tell you why it's so popular and with whom, but I couldn't do that and keep a straight face.)

Think-A-Hol

Think-A-Holics, like me, mostly drink think-a-hol at the Lounge but other beverages are also served there. Still, nothing provides inspiration for writing like good ol' think-a-hol, especially when it's served neat and with no chaser.

In small amounts, think-a-hol (see pic) can enlighten even the darkest and unusable mind and in larger quantities it can even produce revelations, but only in minds that are already ripe for them.

There are many types of think-a-hol and not all of them go down easily. Some burn the tongue and then settle like warm heat once downed. Other kinds are smooth and even buttery but, afterward, sour the stomach and burn the heart.

Not all think-a-hol costs the same. Some of the cheapest stuff will bring out the best in a person while, more often than not, the most expensive blends will show the worst and darkest side of those who drink it.

But, once you become a think-a-holic, there's absolutely no turning back.

Over My Limit

As I've said before, I usually hang out at Think-A-Holic Lounge in the afternoon when most people are off doing other things and rarely do I close the place up at night. But, lately, I've been in a blue funk because of supernaturally orchestrated events that have been keeping our five published science fiction thrillers out of the hands of the reading public. "Me" being Jonco Bugos, the inseparable and overlooked alter ego of a certain independent science fiction author.

Only Angus McCloud, the 400-year-old ghost of a dead Scottish poet and our big-ass head bartender, is willing to listen patiently to my several conspiracy theories about how otherworldly forces have conspired to keep people from reading Michael Casher's books. I'm convinced that these "psuedo gods" pull this shit because they know damn well that no one can read even one of my novels and remain the same person (sounds arrogant, I know, but it keeps me going when the going gets rough). But I get tired of crying about it to Angus, whose responses are just occasional grunting or head wagging or a slight tipping of the chin. Hell, I know he's not really listening, he's just being polite.

So I've been lapping up the think-a-hol pretty good after midnight these days and even way after last call. I feel like I'm not myself anymore, that I've become someone else, an alien life form in this author's body. I still feel this way and especially after last night at 2:00 am when I stumbled out of the Lounge and down the front steps. It was dark, of course, and there was a clear sky. And when I looked up to view what I thought was a full moon, this is what I saw instead (see pic).

Well, maybe I was just a wee bit over my limit of think-a-hol. But, then again, maybe not.

What is a Think-A-Holic?

A think-a-holic is someone that other people accuse of thinking about things too much.

A true think-a-holic is a also a doer, a man or woman of action, not just a dilettante who mezzes out in front of the tube during commercials or who goes to the library to meet people instead of actually reading books and periodicals.

A think-a-holic suspects that there is a better way to do a lot of things but isn't fooled by flash-in-the pan fads that try to displace the conventional and the traditional with superficiality.

A think-a-holic actually knows what the word superficiality means.

A think-a-holic would never confuse another think-a-holic with someone who simply has an obsession with thinking and not doing anything. Those who obsess don't read books. They just obsess.

Too radical for you? Then you're probably not a think-a-holic.

Go out and celebrate.