Rolling Rock was my grandfather’s favorite beer. He was an old-school Democrat, very well-connected in the party. They were always after him to run for office.
One day in 1980 I walked into his kitchen and found him with this sullen, ashen look on his face. Empty green bottles were all over the table. I counted five but there may have been more. I asked him, “Grandpa, what’s wrong?”
He looked at me and said “I’ve come to the conclusion that this Carter guy is screwing up the country so badly, that I have no choice but to vote for Ronald Reagan.”