After a hard day of herding 5000 head of cattle and chasin’ off rustlers, your only recourse for relaxation is to hit up the town saloon for a frosty brew. You round up your crew and walk on in to Dust Mug Saloon where the barkeep, Patrick Flannigan – Sudsy to his friends and regulars – looks up from polishing his beer mug and nods. Your boys pick a spot at a table, away from the door, and start playing Three-Card Monte. You take out a smoke and sidle up to the bar next to Sudsy.
“Hey, Bill” he says putting down his mug and wiping his hands on his apron.
“Hey, Suds,” you say with a voice that’s full of dust from the trail.
“What’ll it be?”
“What ya got, Suds? It’s been a hell of a day.”
“Name your poison, Bill. We just got a shipment from Laramie – all the best.”
…Wait, what? This isn’t the old West, and you’re not an honest cowboy just tryin’ to get by? Well, shuck my corn, partner! My mistake! I musta got confused, because you know what? Today IS national Name Your Poison day.