Hold Fast.
Etched into the knuckles of Mk2 "Fucking Bad Ass", with all respect to that gentleman that's how you may know him.
First person I encountered on my welcome to the Boat. You see, I served the U.S. govt, in the Coast Guard, Mk2 FBA was showing me to my "rack", more like a coffin with a locker underneath and standing next to where you sleep. Oh my, to think how moving to a "rack" with no coffin above you was an up grade, and all those dull drum days spent doing I don't really know, smoking lots of cigarettes, and chew, lots an lots of time frittered in the pursuit of "we are doing an important thing".
Well, maybe it was important, maybe its not. Its not. Regardless, at the end of the run, we made it back to port, yep sailors drink, and fish can't try to drink as much as a sailor that has been out of port over 2 months, let alone a port call in a foreign port. Fish drown.
Sailors are sailors no matter the time frame or the setting. I had the best picture flash across my mind if you will, no matter the chicken or pig on which feet, MeL or MeR. I know this will drag any sailor to the locker with a smile, I'm sure.
Enough, is enough.
Here is to you 
Whiskey Thicc:
or Scotch on Ass:
I love it but I'm partial
Model: Wife
Equip: Asus laptop an Wacom desktop
Art Media: Digital, this time.
I used a random glass from kitchen for reference on shimmers and what not but this is a multi media piece to which...
More to come.