I sleep corrected

A third dream of Roosevelt, possibly precipitated by NyQuil: He’s young and drunk, sloppy drunk, staggering about a moonlit boulder field with a bleach-blonde, punked-out woman even drunker. But my spectating consciousness objects: That isn’t him, it hisses at the dream’s director, Roosevelt hardly drank. It’s true. In fact he won a libel suit against a newspaper that claimed the contrary. He was awarded six cents. Rare among presidents for his lack of interest in booze, Teddy was nonetheless no prohibitionist and enjoyed the occasional daiquiri. “Wine,” he observed in his diary at Harvard, “makes me awfully fighting.”


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