Just an old sweet comment keeps @jrwofuga on our minds.

Eccentric bakery millionaire Jared Nojor was riding in a car driven by his chauffeur George. “Faster, George!” Jared urged, disregarding the posted speed limits as he swigged caviar-infused absinthe from his Contigo Autoseal Swish 17-Ounce Water Bottle. “I feel the need for velocity!” As the car neared a stoplight, however, George did not stop the car. Jared exclaimed in alarm:

“No, George, a red!”

Only after the car careened wildly through the crowded intersection did Jared, in his absinthe daze, realize that George was slumped unconscious over the steering wheel. The out-of-control car zipped down the road, which was suddenly in the really high mountains, then came to a sign that read

SLOW - GORGE AHEAD

The car crashed through the safety rail and into the gorge. Miraculously, both Jared and George survived. But when the cops opened the Contigo Autoseal Swish 17-Ounce Water Bottle, every drop of absinthe was still inside, unspilled. Under the state’s drunk driving laws, the open container meant Jared was responsible for the accident. At his trial, the bailiff called him to the stand:

“Nojor, Jared.”

But perhaps unwisely, Jared had calmed his nerves by bringing along another Contigo Autoseal Swish 17-Ounce Water Bottle full of caviar-infused absinthe, and was unable to offer a credible defense. When the jury returned the verdict, the foreman called Jared “a menace to the health of every man, woman, child, and chauffeur in the galaxy” and recommended he be “locked up forever, preferably in a coffin.” Jared’s lawyer turned to Jared and said:

“Whoa! Sore jury head!”

So Jared was off to prison. On his first day, the warden assigned him to the worst job in the whole penitentiary, shaping hot iron into bed frames for the rapidly expanding population of the prison:

“Go forge a bed.”

Meanwhile, on the outside, all the negative publicity had hurt sales of Jared’s bakery products. One husband put a loaf of Jared’s bread into his wife’s shopping cart. The wife spat with disgust:

“Nojor’s junk bread?”

She flung the loaf down onto the supermarket floor. “I’d rather toast a piece of drywall and eat that with marmalade than give that absinthe-crazed maniac a penny.” Jared could find no comfort even in the simplest pleasures. One day the prison arranged for humorous pianist Victor Borge, the Clown Prince of Denmark, to entertain the inmates. Borge was bantering with the men, challenging them to stump him with their requests, which he invariably played immaculately on the piano, ending each with “Shave and a Haircut”. Jared called out, “Can you play ‘Moonlight Sonata’?”, long a staple of Borge’s live act. But Borge recognized Jared from the publicity surrounding his case.

“No,” Borge said.