A Lament to Jimmy, Dougy and the Bear

You've been out with your mates on a Saturday arvo watching the races and drinking beer. A few winners later you're ready to kick on. But that taste in your mouth...that "I've had a thousand beers today" taste. So you and your "Average Joe" mates head to your local bottleshop to pick up some tasty pre-mix beverages to sip on while watching some footy. You look at the six pack prices; Jim Beam $27. Black Douglas $25. Bundy $25. For a six pack. And then you remember watching the news a couple of weeks ago. The Prime Minister crapping on about how all the teenagers get smashed on pre-mix drinks every weekend. And he's gonna tax the shit outta them. And you remember thinking "I could count on one hand the pre-mix drinks I had when I was a teen". You also muse that maybe now the kids will get more smashed because their big brothers are buying them bottles of straight spirits. And you think to yourself "this doesn't make sense, this guy must have been fumbling for an excuse to tax something because mostly 20-40 year olds drink pre- mixes". And then you wonder to yourself "Why am I getting punished? Why not tax something else? What about the most poverty stricken of all recreational drugs? Whipped creme bulbs! Tax them you do-gooding, char-do-nnay quaf-fin', think you're awesome cause you can speak Chinese, uppity tosser!". You are a right turd!