How many times have I heard some guy say, “I want to kill the bitch”?
For sure, more than I can count on my fingers. But not lately, not since I turned forty and had fewer friends who got drunk and ranted. So it sounded ominous when Frank Wertz, fifty-one years old, made that declaration less than two hours into drinking nothing but beer, long before he had the excuse of his brain turning to mush.
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