I'm amazed at how stupid I am sometimes. Then I look at the people around me and feel better. I can forgive myself for failing to correct a (the?) massive deficiency in my exiled existence because while it took me so long to see this simple solution, no one else did. None of my platoon-mates, or fellow vets stateside I've talked to, none of my high educated and very creative minded friends, not even the criminal elements of my peer-hood that I converse with infrequently said to me; "Nappi, why don't you...".
Why don't I make Pruno?
Yes, Pruno.
Prison Wine.
It hit me like a fucking Mack truck full of Vino and it took god damn long enough considering the frequent comparisons we make between Iraq and the penal system. But once the idea started to congeal in my mind there was no stopping it. And as we speak trashbags full of rotten fruit, moldy bread, and so much sugar are fermenting in the harsh sun of the Middle East. In three days it should be ready for tasting, which is something I dread almost as much as I look forward to. In the mean time I'll continue to check on it often and beat myself up for not thinking of this in February.
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