Arrr, the Surgeon General be shoutin' from the crow's nest: "Beware, me hearties! Drinkin' rum might lead ye to Davy Jones!"
2025-01-04
Arrr, mateys! The Surgeon General be callin’ fer a skull 'n crossbones on yer grog, warnin’ of the cancer beast lurkin’ in yer rum! But alas, it takes a grand ol’ act of Congress to change the label on yer bottle o’ spirits—just a wee warning 'bout drivin’ and spawn! Drink wisely!
Ahoy, mateys! Gather 'round as I spin ye a tale from the landlubber shores of the U.S., where the Surgeon General be soundin’ the alarm like a cannon blast, claimin’ that them bottles o’ rum and barrels o’ ale be harborin’ a dark secret! Aye, these devilish potions be causin’ more than just a ruckus in the hold; they be leadin’ many a brave soul to the dreaded scourge known as the cancer!Now, ye may say, “What’s this, a warning on me grog?” Aye, ‘tis true! The good folk o’ Congress would need to hoist the sails and chart a course to change the labels on yer favorite swill—beer, wine, and spirits alike. Presently, the rules be simpler than a ship’s wheel: just a shout to avoid drinkin’ while steerin’ the ship or if ye be with child. But this wise surgeon be callin’ for more, sayin’ that the dangers of the drink be well-known and preventable!
So, me hearties, next time ye be raisin’ a tankard, cast yer eyes upon that label and ponder whether ye be ready to risk the cursed fate of the cancerous seas, or if ye’d rather sail smooth, savvy?