And I really, really love and admire Jack. I have to carry my V and V with me. That’s, I’m Jack, and I’m an alcoholic.

That’s half Viagra- … and half Valium. Sure keeps me happy. You have a enemy, that cheated.

You know, this many people wouldn’t have come to watch me hung in the city square when I came here. And I thank you all for coming. It, it, it’s, uh, quite impressive.

I wanna thank you for inviting me, and, you know, to condense 54 years into 40 minutes is difficult, to say the least, but I, I’ll say this. When I came here, I did not know where I was going. My first meeting, I, I went blindly, and I didn’t know it was an AA meeting, or I probably wouldn’t have gone.

A- and I heard a guy say something I’d never heard before. He said, “You never have to take another drink as long as you live if you don’t want to.” Amen. And I had never heard that. I, I had heard a lot of things.

I had spent a lot of money with psychiatrists and psychologists and to try to learn how to drink with impunity. Uh, it didn’t work. That’s right. And the guy that said that was a guy that had been in the same place that I had been.

He had been in Lincoln Heights Jail, and I was gonna homestead that. And, uh, he had been into the, uh, Cecil Hotel, and he’d been under the 5th Street Bridge, and, uh, I, I had been there a lot. And so when he said that, I, I knew I could believe him.

And he said, “All you have to do is work those 12 steps to the best of your ability.” You see, when I came here, I, I kind of had the rope and the tail on the downhill drag. I was married to Miss Mississippi of 1940, who was a beauty. Nice lady, and I haven’t seen her in 50 years.

So just, uh… That’s wrong. I haven’t seen her in 53 years. I was a full colonel in the Air Force Reserve.

I was a city engineer of the little town I lived in, and I owned a house on the beach, and it didn’t owe anybody a dime. I owned a construction company. My only problem was I was willing to toss all of that over for the next drink. That could just all go by the wayside.

When I had that drink, I could have cared less about any of that. Amen. It just didn’t seem to matter. I- if, if you’ve never had one of those gut-wrenching desires for a drink, you, you, you know what I’m talking about if you had one of those, where you just

gotta have it, and nothing else counts. And I’d like to report to you that I have not had a drink of any kind of alcoholic beverages or any mind-altering drugs, except prescription drugs, since that night I walked into my first meeting. I do take prescription drugs as prescribed.

I, I, I’m 89 years old, and without them, I, I wouldn’t be here. You know, it’s, it’s kind of a routine for me in the morning. When I, I get up, first thing I do, I change my air from, uh, one side to the other, my V and V, that is. Then, then I look for my hearing aids.

Then I look for my teeth. Then I look for my walking cane. And then I’m ready to go out in the kitchen. So of course, I take my medicine.

I take something to get my blood pressure going, and it goes. Then I take something to keep it from going too high. And it goes. So, you know, I’m like an annuity to a dermatologist a- a- and to a, a, a doctor.

You know, every time they need a Mercedes payment, they call me and make an appointment, so. But life has been good to me. Uh, and it’s been really good. After I quit, uh, making an ass of myself with booze, I, I would kind of start out drinking, a- and I,

I had a tab at, at, at the local hotel. I could drink on, off the top shelf. And I loved that good bourbon. Oh, I loved it.

A- and I would have a few drinks of that, and somehow I would wind up on skid row in Los Angeles. And every time I wound up in skid row in Los Angeles, it seemed like I sobered up in Lincoln Heights Jail. When I came here, I thought I’d been to Lincoln Heights Jail about a dozen times. A- and I got a friend to check it out, and I was there 56 times.

And every time I went there was for drunk in public, drunk, uh, disorderly, drunk resisting arrest, or common drunk. And I hated that term common drunk so bad. Yeah.

I would kick the cop so he would arrest me for resisting arrest instead of common drunk. And, and, you know, it was like, it was just going on, and on, and on. I’d sober up and go to work a- and make peace at home a- and make peace with the people I had some responsibility to, uh, for a few days, uh, and get everything settled, everything settled down, a- and then I had to have a drink because everything was settled down.

A- and then it would start over again. I’d wind up on skid row, wind up in jail, have to make a thousand apologies. Uh, uh, you know, it’s kind of like there’s no end to it. It was kind of like wiping your nose with a wheel.

You know, it just went on, and on, and on. When I came here, you told me that I had to work these steps. Uh, and this, I’d, I’d like to tell you about my first few days in AA. I went, my first meeting was the old mother group in Long Beach, and they told me to sit down, and shut up, and listen, and I did.

A- and after the meeting, Gus Red and Ray Chandler, they’re both dead now, so their anonymity has been broken before. They took me out to the Palos Verdes Peninsula, and they told me about Alcoholics Anonymous for the rest of the night. We went to work the next morning, and I discovered that people did a lot that I didn’t know happened. They ate breakfast.

And at noon, we were working up at, up in the Simi Valley, a- and at noon I was going to my usual place where I had lunch, a place called Tip’s. A- and I’d usually go in there and have about four martinis and forget about lunch. And as I walked in the door, there was a man sitting on the couch right inside the door that I had met in that AA meeting the night before.

And he said, “I happened to be in the area. I thought I’d come and have lunch with you.” And he told me about AA, and I didn’t drink. That night they came and chaired the room I was staying in, and they said, “Let’s go to a meeting.” And I said, “No, I didn’t get a, get a sleep last night.” They said, “There’s no case on record of anybody dying from a lack of sleep, so we’re going to a meeting.” And

we went to a meeting. The next day, just to let you know the geography, I was in Covina, which has got to be 60 miles away. And I was going into the old North Woods, which is a, a delightful outpost, for sure. And the, the lights are, are real low.

You can be real anonymous in there. Way over in account. And I don’t know whether I intended to drink or not, but as I walked in the door, there was a guy sitting on, on the chair there that I had met in that meeting at Long Beach.

And he said, “I happened to be in the area. I thought I would come and have lunch with you.” I thought, “Well, these people are everywhere.” And for the next 20 days, everywhere I went, somebody was there. It meant that…

You see, we didn’t have radios or cell phones in those days. Uh, some people did, the rich ones, but I didn’t. And, uh, every morning at 10:00 I would call the office and tell them where I was gonna have lunch. And the book says that alcohol is cunning, baffling, and powerful.

Well, alcoholics are cunning, baffling, powerful, and insidious. They would get, they got to her, to the lady in the office. And when I would call in, she would call somebody, and they would network, and whoever was the closest drove to have lunch with me. And I cried the first honest tears I’d cried in 20 years when I found that out.

They thought that much of me to do that. A- and they kept at me. They made me do the steps. They, they made me get honest, and ooh, that was a hell of a chore.

And, uh, they kept me active. Good things happened. Miss Mississippi said, “I don’t like you sober,” and she left. So I had a big house, and I turned it into a kind of a halfway house.

Uh, a- and the only rule was stay out of my office and stay out of my bedroom. A- and they stayed out of my office, but one of them didn’t stay out of my bedroom, and we were married 18 years. They were good years. She was a nice lady.

Some of the people in this au- audience remembers her. Uh, I had to leave Laguna and come to where it was dry because of my breathing, and I came over here. But I’d like to tell you a few little incidents that happened before I, I got here.

I was in the military. I was a fighter pilot during World War II and Korea. And I grew up in, in Georgia. And my father was a county bootlegger.

And I learned how to make corn whiskey when I was about six, eight years old. I don’t know how old I was when I started drinking. I was 35 years old when I had my last drink. But booze was a way of life in our house.

My mother put me in a religious academy for the first 10 years of my education, and they, they were, they were good people, real good people. Uh, they didn’t have a demerit system or, uh, keep you after school. Uh, if they assigned you some lessons and you didn’t get them, they just beat hell out of you.

So you learned how to get your lessons. As a result, I was accepted in the university when I was 14 years old. A- and that’s, you know, that’s a real out of place for a 14-year-old kid. I, I just, I, I was not part of it till I found out they liked to drink on the university, and I became

the campus bootlegger. And every Monday morning, I would put a gallon jug of moonshine in the dean’s office, and this gave me license to drink and license to peddle my booze on the campus. And I got through that.

In fact, I graduated from that when I was 19 years old, and I went directly from there into the Air Corps. And my stepfather was a, an old infantry guy. He had been in the First World War as, as an infantryman, and he was back in the 29th Infantry. And he says, “Boy, come on down to…

I’ll get you in the infantry, and with this degree you’ve got, we’ll let you go to OCS.” And there was one thing I learned in school, and that was I wasn’t a good walker, a- and I just didn’t wanna do any walking. So I told him I’d be down Tuesday and see him, and Monday I enlisted in the Air Corps. And he never forgave me.

But I was out of step. When I got in the Air Corps, I went to cadets down in Texas, and I had a degree. And I was used to kind of being a loner because I was 14 years old in a uni- versity, and it just really didn’t have any, my age group there.

When I got into cadets, I was kind of a loner because they found out I had a degree. A- and they gave me work that kept me separated from the other cadets. When I, the war started, I, I got in over in Pearl Harbor on December the 10th, and I went down to Australia in early ’42, and they put me in a fighter squadron.

And it seemed like every time somebody got killed, I got promoted. A- and I didn’t kill any of them. Uh, and, and it, uh, I wound up, I was a 23-year-old colonel. And I didn’t have too many contemporaries.

I was a loner again. And I came out of that war a- and I, I want- wanted to make a, a living for myself, and I, I went into business over in California, and I didn’t have time to associate with too many people my age. So again, I was kind of a loner.

A- and then when that Korean War came out, they recalled me again, and again, I was a loner because there wasn’t too many people that was as young as I was that had the rank I had. And I, I just felt when I came here that I was gonna be the thumb for the rest of my life. And I came here, and you people welcomed me.

You said, “Come on in, be part of it.” A- and, uh, uh, the, I have a few degrees, and I have a few awards, and the most cherished reward and degree I have is for me to say, “I’m Jack, and I’m an alcoholic, a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.” That’s the nicest thing I can do for me, is be a member here. And I wanna thank you for it.

While I was in the service, I, there was an incident in, in the officer’s club one night, and a brigadier got some, uh, tonic water sprayed on him, you know, one of those hair spray. A- and the commanding general suggested maybe I should talk to the psychiatrist about some of my drinking. And I went to see the psychiatrist, and we had a real good session.

In fact, that session was so good, we repaired to the bar to celebrate it. And had a few drinks. After several weeks with the… We were in Dayton, Ohio, at Wright-Patt, and after several weeks with him, he declared that I was a well-adjusted Buckeye.

And I, I was happy about this. Went and had a few drinks about this. You know, I’m adjusted. I’m well.

I got inquisitive, and I went to Webster’s Collegiate, and it says that a Buckeye is an apparent useless nut. I don’t know whether this guy knew or just guessed, but he was right. And that was about me. When I came to AA, you took me in.

You let me be a part of, a- and good things happened. You let, you let me go to prisons and talk about AA. You let me talk to the Duke combos. You let me be a part of, so all the good things happened.

I, I came here, over here, and, and you let me come into the Phoenix AA, and you accepted me. A-and jeez, that, that’s a heartwarming saying for me. I used to have a buddy here. H-his name was Bert.

He, he, he went, he worked for Las Vegas and died. He was in AA for a long while, but he used to say at every meeting, he’d say, “I feel more like I do now than I did when I got here.” And I like that. That’s very true.

It makes me feel good. All old people, and God knows I’m old, probably the oldest one in the house- … have problems with their, their health, and I’ve had problems with my health. I had a few, oh, it’s about 18, 19 years ago, uh, they, they found some cancer in my right lung, and

they decided they’d cut it out. And they did, they cut it out. And it’s kind of funny the way I think. Uh, I went to the hospital that morning, my wife and I.

My wife is a black belt Al-Anon. And, uh- … we turned it over to God, and we went to the hospital and, uh, that morning, and the surgeon came in, and he started telling me what he was going to do. And, and I said, “Well, wait a minute.

Why don’t you talk to God about what you’re gonna do instead of me? Because my life is none of my business. I turned it over to God this morning.” He went out in the hall, and he talked to my wife, and he said, “That man crazy?” And she said, “I think he is, but what’d he say?” He said, “His life wasn’t any of his business.” And she said, “I think he believes that,” and I did.

And I’d like for you to know that, that the sequence that went on while I was in that operating room, it, it, I, I was, I didn’t know about it. They told me about it. One of the other guys was walking up and down the hall beating a drum, doing a mantra, and about 20 of you was hanging out in the, in the waiting

room waiting to see if I died or not. A-and they said they were waiting to see if I lived or not. And I came to, a-and when I came to sometime in the morning, I saw Brody sitting on the foot of my bed, and Brody was one of us, and he was a surgeon.

And he jerked off, and he said, “Jack, you’re gonna be all right. They did a good job.” And I relaxed and felt good. And you people then started loving me back to health. You came in droves.

And Mercy is- I was in the i- intensive care with the family only. A- and they c- they came in, and the nurse said, “How many children do you have?” “How many sisters do you have?

How many brothers?” A lot of you know old Walt. He showed up and told them he was my father. They let him in. There’s some people in this room that came to visit me in that hospital.

T- the real funny thing that happened about the fourth or fifth day after the surgery, I’m wired for sound, and the nurse came in and said, “There’s a man in the waiting room wants to come in. He says he’s your brother, but I think he’s lying.” And I asked why he was lying, and she said, “He’s Black.” A- and I remember asking her, “Is he the ugliest human you’ve ever seen?

Got a little old bolo tie on and a pocket full of pencils?” And she said, “That’s him.” Said, “Send him in. He’s my brother.” Black Wally came in. And he had driven all the way up from South Phoenix to John Lincoln Hospital. And he grabbed my hand.

It was all these things are in my arm. And he shook my hand and he said, “Baker, don’t die. I ain’t got time to go to a funeral this week.” And he left. That’s what he said.

He said a mouthful. You, you, you kept coming around. You, you took me to meetings. You, you helped me get back to walking a- and you welcomed me back a- and I love you for it.

About four or five years ago, you know, uh, life is kind of like a roll of toilet paper. You know, the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes. And so, I don’t know, about four years ago, maybe five, I had a heart at- had a stroke about 6:00 in the morning.

A- and my wife had a heart attack about 1:00 that afternoon. And, you know, that’ll spoil your whole damn day. I only got one lung, and it was loading up. I had pneumonia, and I, I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t talk and I couldn’t move.

A- and I ca- I heard them say, “If we don’t go in and drain that other lung, he’s gonna be dead within the hour.” And the other one, the other one said, “Does he have a will on hand?” They say, “The other one on file. We’ll have to get in touch with his power of attorney, which is his wife.” Said, “Well, let’s get in touch with her right away.” Well, they went looking for my wife, trying to call her, and they couldn’t find her because she was in John Lincoln Hospital with a heart attack.

Now, my wife and I have a, have a, a, a deal. No codes. No, none. And if they had found her, she was honor bound to tell them nothing.

Don’t do it. But they didn’t find her, so they went in and drained my lung, and obviously I’m still here. So you think I don’t know that somebody up there loves me? They do.

I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t, uh, move. And I’m in there for a little while. And I’m wondering, trying to mumble something, and I can’t mumble anything.

Uh, and I say, “I gotta do something so I can talk.” I just knew that, that I had to do something. A- and I’m a Shakespeare buff. A- and I used to go to Shakespeare festivals, and I think I read everything the old bard wrote. A- and I was thinking in my dim-wittedness that I’ll repeat some of Shakespeare a- and maybe I

can get my voice back. And I tried to think of some Shakespeare. Excuse me. And the only thing I could think of was Wharton’s parody

on Shakespeare. His Par- Horace parody, not Wharton, a Horace parody. When Shakespeare was out west and saw a bowlegged cowboy, he turned to his friend and he said, “Ho, what manner of men are these who frame their bowels in parentheses?” And,

and I thought, “That’s not gonna work.” So I, I, I did remember the, that portion of the fifth chapter we read. And I started mumbling, “Rarely have we seen a person fail.” A- and I, I kept mumbling that I don’t know how many hours. But I remember the nurse saying, “I don’t know what he’s saying, but he’s saying something.” “He’s trying to say something.” A- and I kept at it, and finally one afternoon

there was a, a guy in there doing something. I think he was taking blood. He said, “I know what he’s saying. He’s saying the fifth chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous.” And he sat down beside the bed and repeated it with me.

And much to the disagreeing of a lot of people , I learned how to speak again. Repeating that fifth chapter, and it worked. I got out of the hospital. You helped me learn how to walk again.

You le- le- helped me learn how to move about, and a lot of good things have happened. Th- th- When I, I look back over, uh, the advice I’ve had since I come here, oh, I’ve had a lot. A lot of people advise me. I think the best advice I’ve ever had was by one of the AA meetings.

They told me to never take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night. And that was the funniest I’d ever seen. Th- that was right between don’t drink and go to meetings.

I’ve had a good life. I, I, I, I, when I got here, they told me as high as I could get in AA is sober, and I believe that. Amen. And when I got here, I, I was 35 years old, and, and I could look out over them old people in that meeting.

And I’d say, “God, what am I doing amongst all these old people?” Tonight it’s different. What the hell am I doing amongst all you young people? God, you look young. Except you, Corny.

You don’t look too young. After, after staying one shower with that second marriage after my wife ran off with my bookkeeper, and, uh, I remember my sponsor came up and says, “Are you gonna get drunk over this?” And I said, “Hell no. I may kill him, but I’m not gonna get drunk.” He said, “Homicide’s an outside issue.

We don’t worry about that.” So I firmly believe that when God closes one door, he opens a better one. A- and I stumbled into a, a lady, and we’ve been married now almost 40 years. A- and we got a deal.

We had a deal when we married. A- and the deal was that I would make the living, and she would make the living worthwhile. And she’s done a hell of a lot better job than I have. It, it’s working good.

My wife is, uh, I’m the, I’m the house boy, and it’s probably the best job I’ve ever had. Helping my wife. She’s totally disabled. She’s got about 14 artificial joints.

I call her the $6 million woman. And she probably is that. But in this year, she’s been in the hospital six times. And, uh, it, it’s been a, a real weighty issue on me.

But you have buoyed me up and kept me, uh, believing that things are gonna be all right, and they are. This is the ninth week she’s out of the hospital, and I’m really grateful. You know, when I came here, I just kind of took life as it happened. And I, I, I didn’t put too much, uh, didn’t, didn’t, didn’t believe in God too much.

I, uh, this church I was a part of when I was a youngster, a guy named Hurd Rickley killed another guy. He shot him four or five times. A- and they tried Hurd for murder. And this group, this church, went to great ex- lengths to raise money for Hurd’s defense.

And I thought that was marvelous that they would defend one of their own. He was guilty as hell. And they hung him. And, uh, they electrocuted him.

A- and shortly after they electrocuted old Hurd, the Sunday school teacher ran off with a choir leader and shacked up in Brooks Cheers Camp. And they threw his ass out of church. And I said, “Whoa.” They condone murder, but they don’t go for love, and I haven’t been to that church since. So it’s been a lot of…

A- a- and I kind of didn’t think that maybe there was, God had too much to do with me. And, uh, I, I got shot down a couple times during World War II, and I, I figured, “You lucky bastard. You didn’t get killed that time.” A- and I, I had an idea when I would get into, I was a fighter pilot. When I’d get tangled up with one of those Japanese boys, I’d get the idea, “He’s trying to kill me, so I’m gonna get him first.” And I did, all but twice, and they got

me. And then I, I, other things happened that I, I just didn’t think, want to get involved with this deity. And I came to Alcoholics Anonymous, and old Brett Hood, bless his heart, rest his soul, I told him I didn’t believe in God.

He said, “You, boy, you get a piece of paper, and you draw a line down the middle of it. On the left side, you write down what everybody you think wants you to believe God is.” And I said, “Okay, I can do that.” He said, “And on the right side of that, you write down exactly what you want your God to be.” And I did, and I presented the paper to Gus, and he said, “Cut it in two.” I cut it in two.

He said, “Throw the left side away.” I did. He said, “The right side is your higher power. Now believe in it. You’ve created it.” And I can remember in my period in, in school that, uh, someplace I’d read that the concept of God is created

from within, and I created that, my concept. And you know, it worked real good for me for these last 54 years. Worked real good. In 1980, uh, a guy that some of you know and I were in an airplane, and we were over Perkinsville about

8,500 feet at about 8:30 at night, and it was blacking a whole barrel of black caps out. There wasn’t a moon, and it was dark, and we run out of fuel. Ooh. And we held hands at the selective alt looking for some fuel, and we didn’t find any.

And he, he, he did the classic. He said, “You take it. It’s your plane.” I said, “You mean you want me to kill us instead of you?” And I don’t know who said it, whether it was Les or me, but one of us said, “Let’s say that Lord’s Prayer,” and we did.

And we saw a set of doubles going westbound on Interstate 40, and we landed on Interstate 40, and we didn’t get hurt. And that’s, if any of you know where Perkinsville is, that’s nasty country to be without fuel. At 8,500 feet at night. So this God took good care of me.

When I was about five years sober, I was in the construction business, and I had to bid a job up in Wisconsin. And I went about to the wrong side of the state, and I had to rent a car. And it was in November, and it was bad weather. A- and it was raining, and I had to buy a hat.

And seemed like about every 20 miles, there’s a big sign that’s advertising a liquor store, a bar. A- and there’s, those little towns were about 20, 30 miles apart. And just about the time it would get out of my rear view mirror, there’d be one in the windshield. And I was about 2,500 miles from home, and I said, “I haven’t had a drink in five years.

I am due a drink.” “I need some antifreeze.” So I drove on, and I convinced myself that I needed a drink. And I pulled in front of a bar and went in, and I took off my hat and shook the sleet off of it. And I took off the coat and hung it up and started towards the, the counter. And a voice said, “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing here?” The bartender was a man I had met in an AA meeting- -about six weeks before.

And I told him a damn lie. That I came in for a cup of coffee. They almost didn’t let me in AA ’cause I don’t drink coffee, and I don’t like donuts. I drank coffee that night.

Finally, I fessed up and told him, and he said, “You know, somebody up there loves you.” He said, “My family owns this bar, and they invited me to come run it while they had some medical problems. And I’m the only one in the bar within 100 miles of here that knows anything about AA.” “And you came here. Somebody loves you.” Believe me, folks, I have not considered taking a drink since then, and

that had to be about, uh, I was sober about five years then. So I know that there’s somebody up there that loves me. My wife and I were wanting to kick around, and we bought a Greyhound bus and made it into a, a motor coach. And it was nice.

We enjoyed it. A- and we were going down a mountain in California, a- and I hit the brakes, and nothing happened. And I, I told her to, “Put your seat belts up,” ’cause I was gonna hit the emergency. That Bendix that locks all wheels, and she did.

And I pulled the, the little button to lock all wheels, and nothing happened. We went down the mountain. And she said, “Don’t you think we better say that prayer?” I said, “I think we better say that prayer.” And we did, and we went down that mountain. I had a big horn, and I kept it going.

And they were clearing out in front of us and let us through. We went down to the bottom and rolled up this other side, and they stopped. And a highway patrolman was there, and he said, “You know how fast you were going?” And I said, “Too fast.” He said, “Yeah. You were doing about 125 miles an hour.” You think I don’t know that somebody loves me up there?

And th- th- there’s so many things that, that, that I can recall that happened that way. See, I just know that, that God is, is, is taking good care of me. My mother died, uh, over 50 years ago. My father died before she did.

My only sister’s been dead a few years. That was kind of funny, but I’m still around. Uh, you know, up till my sister died, they figured she was an only child in the family. People talk about a dysfunctional family.

My family was very functional when I wasn’t there. If there’s ever been a family that was grateful to see a guy get sober, it was mine. And it, it’s just so much.

It, you know, uh, when I go to a lot of meetings, I can drive up and down these freeways amongst the nicest people on earth if I just keep going to, to, to a lot of meetings. It, it’s… I don’t know.

The good peoples come out when I, I go to meetings. And when I don’t go to a lot of meetings and I drive up and down these freeways, I drive amongst the biggest bunch of assholes on earth. So e- even though I’m 89 years old and sober 54 years, I’m gonna keep going to a lot of meetings- Yeah …

to keep those assholes off the freeway. I, I really wanna thank you for letting me be here. And we got some newcomers come in. I- if you, here in this meeting, if you look around, you could see…

I could look around, and I see people here, a whole gaggle of people with over 40 years of sobriety. I could look around, and I see a whole gaggle of people that, that will be happy to talk with you. A- and just for your information, I, I’ve been real… I’ve done a lot of newcomer work and worked with a lot of people, and I’ve never known a person that was too dumb, too stupid, or too ignorant

to get sober and stay sober. But, ooh, I’ve known of zillions of them that were too brilliant- … too smart, too intelligent. So if you’ll come in and keep it real simple- …

you can stay sober just one day at a time, and that’s the epitome of it. You know, I, I got some weird ideas. A lot of people think they’re weird, and I do too at times. I kind of look on a, an AA meeting as kind of like a sex orgy.

I don’t guess any of you’ve ever been in one of those. The way I think it’s a sex orgy is you go away feeling good, but you don’t know who made you feel the best. Thank you, and God bless you.