Life is short, pallie. Nothing's guaranteed in this crazy-ass world, except that eventual date with Doctor Death, and the fact that The Man owns your ass from diapers to dust. So what's the point? Is it all so bad people will burn in Hades and goody two-shoes and snitches will get to strap on wings and kiss God's blessed hiney for infinity? Basically, all we can figure is that it's about the few creature comforts you can snatch from a rotten existence before you croak. You know, "A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou." Except in our case, we'll take a stack of Benjies instead of that loaf of bread, a night with a supermodel instead of thou, and a case of Kiltlifter Scottish-Style Ale in bottles instead of that jug o' vino. Yes, that malty, amber ambrosia with its faint smokiness is one of the few reasons we have to live! Because we ain't got no stack of Benjies, no supermodel, and no jug of Cristal. But Kiltlifter you can boost at just about any local supermarket, Cap'n, even though it's made by the kind folks at Four Peaks Brewery in Tempe. Think of it as non-prescription Prozac, dawg, and get you some.