"No, I'm just singing the song - my sister wouldn't send me some shit we could steal from Trader Joe's, this is the unpronounceable shit."From Slumberland by Paul Beatty, Bloomsbury, 2008.
Apparently Blaze's older sister, Mariela, a tank mechanic stationed in Germany, had sent him a case of that strong leathery beer we loved so much. Beer that, no matter how much we drank, never left us with a hangover, only an urge to obey orders.
I've just started reading this book. There are writers who should stop themselves from going on tangents. There are others, probably fewer, who can give into them and still remain readable. Beatty draws strength from them.