This is a good idea in theory, but the book choice is totally wrong. See, in Texas, you’re issued a flask at birth, so there’s never any need to hide it. The hospital puts it in a care package with your six-shooter, your future trophy wife and your inflated ego. Then they wrap you up in swaddling chaps, plop you in your Mama’s arms, and send you out into the big, bad world to flourish, secede, and die early of barbeque sauce-related heart disease.