It reminds me of a time long ago when we were once all brothers, how we were once a great country and also how much I hate fucking sweetened iced tea. I taste the tea again and because taste and smell are so closely related to memory it affects me. I imagine people are pronouncing their “R’s” as if it has five syllables and talking about collared greens as if it is something normal people actual eat. A culture of hospitality hand in hand with sweet tea. I imagine I am sitting on a porch in Savannah, Georgia. The clinking sound of ice cubes is pleasant. I move the glass in a circular motion to swirl the tea. I believe you can figure it out yourself. Tea Recipe: If I have to explain to you how to make cold and sweetened iced tea I feel it would be the beginning of the breakdown of civil society. Regardless of my preconceptions about sweet tea I, being an eurudite and curious mother-fucker, have ventured into reviewing sweetened iced tea today. As my grandfather used to say to me “Boy why are you walking in that god damn meadow with a fucking parfait in your hand?” Grandpa was the best. I want either piping hot tea as it should be or possibly a parfait of some sort. When I go walking in a meadow of Yellow Jassemines in North Carolina enjoying their fragrant scent I don’t want no fucking cold tea in my hand. Now we have to put up with this sickly sweet tea-like beverage in every fucking Waffle house south of the Mason-Dixon. Some peach eatin’ hillbilly, most likely drunk on moonshine, decided to go against thousands of years of tea being hot. This banjo playing mother-fucker then tasted it the next morning and due to his unrefined pallet and undeveloped frontal lobe decided to put a little sugar in it. Some southern inbred foppish dandy from the hills of fucking Georgia left his tea outside one night on accident and it got cold.
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