When I was a kid, my favorite color was red. Because children have favorite colors. Now I’m 60 and, true to form, or age, reverting backwards and all that, I once again find I have a favorite color. I wasn’t really thinking about it. It just kind of happened. But my favorite color is no longer red. It’s orange. Man do I loves me some orange. It just does something to me inside. Fills a hole I used to cover over with booze, or weed, or, later in life, salted caramel ice cream. Now I just look upon the color orange and I’m good. Totally fixed and made whole as a person. But I have to admit that these two otherwise nothingburger shots here cause my wandering eye to drift back and recall ever fondly that first love you never quite forget. Bloody fucking red. Oops, there it is!