From the Wall Street Journal:
The smartphone has become one of the world’s most powerful communications tools. That can be a bad thing if you’re drunk.
Ronnie Rocha learned that the hard way after texting a profanity-laced tirade, while drunk, to his boss. In the missive, he demanded to be paid more and given more responsibilities at his job as a computer programmer.
Mr. Rocha, 23 years old at the time, managed to keep his part-time gig. But he admits he had no recollection of sending the text.
“The devices of power and productivity become weapons of everything once you have some alcohol in you,” Mr. Rocha said.
I think I’ll write a little poem, soon as I finish up
this little teeny weeny bit of wine that’s in my cup.
I haven’t had a lot, you know; I’m feeling pretty fine.
And poets should be given lots of praise and good red wine.
The muse is sloshed but I am not — I’m simply in the zone,
and I could play my lays and rimes on flute or slide horn-thingy.
A poet celebrates the life around him all the time —
to neglect this duty is a literary, um, faux pas.
So here’s to drunken rhyming, and to comments on your piece
of journalism that is like old Jason’s Golden — rag or chamois or some kind of crap like that . . .
and hey . . . how come you never return my calls, huh? You think you ar sum king of big sot or wat? Im gunna . . . yeah, I’m gunna right now, son as I use the y’know the bathroom . . . be right back ~