Sitting with Macgyver one pleasant afternoon on the public board walk near the river I lamented the fact that we couldn't have a cold one to accompany our traded tales of found-object savetheworldresourcefulrepurposingness when he gives the sage little tip of the head, and twinkle of eye, that signals the onset of genius and retrieves an empty ice tea can from the waste bin. Deftly and delicately, lest he wrinkle an edge (a dead giveaway to the dark side always in the wings ready to pounce) he proceeded to scissor (he always carries some form of scissor in his multipocketed attire) away the the can at both ends where the label ends. Then he cut cleanly up the side where the label's edges meet. With a quick glance around, he then removed a tall icy chill brew from the cooler, and slid the iced tea jacket onto the new quaff! Incogneto! Anonymous Acoholics style! Quickly, we located and scissored up another jacket for a second treat, the golden sun was setting, tourists, locals, and police on bicycles ambling by with not the merest perturbation. We at last finished our tales for this eve, ever slightly limned with two-brew happiness and fatigue, and then tossed our empties in the trash. Recovering a cardboard tube from an old saran wrap that a picnicer left behind, Mac cut the tube in half, and rolled our iced tea brew-camo jackets into each half to store in our tank bags until next time. The rolling up actually serving to better cling the jacket against the next can down the road. That Macgyver. He can be a troublemaker.