Brian, Brian, Brian.
Brian, Brian, Brian.
Listen, there really is no easy way to say this so I'm just going to have to come out with it. I've aggonized over this for a long, long time. Every time I thought the time was right, well, something would come up to show me that I should wait. You should probably sit down.
Let me tell you a story. A long time ago I was living in a Yurt in the Gobi Desert, selling tye dyed tee shirts, Pall Malls and cheap beer to the local nomads. One day a girl showed up riding a camel. Wow, she was something. She was hot. I mean she was HAWT! HAWT HAWT HAWT!!!
And a total freak! I mean she just couldn't get enough. She wouldn't leave me alone. "Baby, I'm not from Havana!" I'd work hard all day selling my stuff to the nomads then be up all night laying pipe. She damn near drained me dry.
Then one day she came to me and told me that she was late. The next day she was gone. Just disappeard and went home to the USA. I used to get postcards from her over the years, and every once in a while she would send me pictures. Once I got a report card in the mail. It was tough, knowing that I couldn't be involved in that part of her life but our stars were on different paths.
Do you remember the red firetruck you got for Christmas when you were 3?
Yes Brian, I am your father.
And there is something else. You are right, I am old and infirm and it seems I will be dead soon. I have Osteosarcoma and a rip roaring urinary tract infection. My girls have no intrest in brewing and soon enough my brew rig will be yours. Use it well. With my brew rig and your genetic imprint you can start a commercial brewery that will allow you to conquer the civilized world.
Ok, this is too painful for me right now, I have to leave it for a while. I'll write more later. Just remember, Brian. Daddy loves you.
PTN