It’s Jack Kerouac’s birthday. The author of the greatest road trip novel of all time was born in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1922. He’s also buried there. I know this because I’ve gotten fantastically drunk on his grave. Jack and I had a long talk. We had a grand time. If you get the urge to drink with Jack, I recommend you wait until around midnight, then scale the cemetery fence, because then there are fewer people around to judge you. And don’t fret if you pass out on his grave, the sprinklers will get you up and on your way at first light. Now, while Jack might seem like a jug-wine type of drunkard, he was actually a big Scotch drinker. Not to say he wouldn’t drink jug wine or anything else that might be on hand, he just preferred to drink Scotch. Top quote: “Why on earth aren’t people continually drunk? I want ecstasy of the mind all the time.”
