i had a bit of a family history lesson on my way to work today. my father recounting his days of drugs and alcohol. it's in our blood. my great great grandparents made bootleg whiskey for the Kennedy's, before prohibition they owned Murphy's pubs all over New York. we may not have been politicians and aristocrats, but we've always helped people get drunk. dad says my great grandfather would come home from work, pull out a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey, sit at the table and drink three shots before he addressed anyone. i'm left with this picture of him in my head; coming home late, pay day, he had a heart attack getting the mail in the lobby, fell backwards, stiff, his hand still holding the key, ready to get the days mail.