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Secret Diaries of Doctor Victor Drankenstein Ch. 19: Ballz Out

Have I really not written an article since April?  My hidden volcano DrankLab is all dusty, and my science coat smells like mothballs.  I assure you that this hiatus wasn’t due to lack of interest, I put down so much Thunderbird that Cleveland’s hobos have stopped asking for money and now just try to attack me and drink my blood.  They can smell it in my veins.  The reality of the situation is simply that the industry cannot keep up with me.  I drank everything out there in the name of science, then retreated to my lonely tower where I silently scanned the horizon line for innovations that were too few and far between.  So what finally brought the good Doctor back from unwilling retirement?  To paraphrase the immortal words of AC/DC, “Some balls are held for for charity and some for fancy dress, but when they’re filled with drinks they’re the balls that I like best”.

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