In The Lost City Of Angels...

There lived a not-so-little artist that loved his whisky. Like a lot. But not in a drunk-in-the-morning sort of way. Just in a this-tastes-delicious-when-sipped sort of way. I mean... he wasn't crazy or anything like that...


Well, he wasn't THAT crazy, but it's never too late to strive for greatness! Also, this is just a placeholder while I figure all this stuff out ;) 


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