Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
News to me - though I suspect that they have caused more hangovers than they have cured (whatever their name).
ReplyDeleteLooks like a bucket of blood - I don't drink anymore but I have had one before - not too bad.
ReplyDeleteNot my cup of tea (or booze). Thanks for the interesting fact!
ReplyDeleteI did not know that.
ReplyDeletePretty good for getting well on Sunday mornings... Of course those days were many decades ago.
ReplyDeleteLol...nope, didn't know!
ReplyDeletehugs
Donna
I did not know that. I don't know how I will react if someone offers me one.
ReplyDeleteInteresting.
ReplyDelete