What does the whiskey know? What can it?

These are questions so crucial to our understanding. When we define epistomology, the gaping section of history (as though time were real! but for the sake of argumentation, let’s bathe in delusion together) within which whiskey was absent is utterly absurd as a thought, thus it cannot be contributary. The only true knowledge is of whiskey. All true knowledge leads to the very edges of the universe. Whiskey can only be, then, considered the creator god we all so desperately crave to validate our existence. Sisyphus always forgets to change over the laundry, doesn’t he?