This is A.J. Rathbun, reporting. A giant bottle of Haig scotch has been seen attacking buildings in the downtown of a major metropolitan area. It seems the bottle is about 50 feet tall, and full of scotch. No one has yet been hurt, but many are drunk, and productivity in this area in down. The bottle of Haig hasn’t been too specific about why it is attacking, what its aims are, and if any potential partners in destruction (a giant bottle of sweet vermouth, or a giant bottle of club soda, or gasp!, a giant collection of giant ice cubes, haven’t been sighted, but rumors are flying) are on the horizon, though it is mumbling about being “the most mixable, hoistable, and enjoyable taste in Scotch whisky, damnit.” Who will save this major metropolitan area? I’d say Iron Man, but dang, he’s already been fighting a bottle of Canadian whiskey, and from this picture, losing. Who can possibly defeat the giant bottle of Haig? Who?

After my below post about the Champagne of malt liquors, Champale, pal Philip (who writes a blog about the cutest girl in the world) was kind enough to send me a few choice Champale items he found, items which are now bound to be sitting atop yr holiday gift wish list. Because I know you love Champale. Admit it. You love it in the best way possible, which is by wearing this lovely Champale badge (I know I’ll be wearing one):

I especially like the smell lines coming off. And where better to wear your Champale-badged attire, then in your home bar, under your Champale light (I almost feel like I’m announcing a showcase showdown here):

Though really, that light is too modern for me. Give me the class of the oldies, the aged Champale, or at least this aged Champale light:

Now that’s classy. You know what’s best of all? You can buy both lights, and then have a whole Champale room, and, for that matter, buy a whole bunch of Champale badges and make a complete Champale outfit, and then send a picture of you in it, standing under your lights, to me, and I will post it here. Promise.

Produced since 1939 (originally in New Jersey), Champale is a malt liquor. I’ve got not a stitch of a problem with that (and heck, the way today’s going, I’d take two bottles right now and drain them at a gulp and like it. Then burp a lot). But the whole “poor person’s Champagne” seems like a poor advertising scheme (really, can you talk down to your audience more?), especially when you have a talking bottle and a talking coupe-style Champagne glass (which was, as an aside, supposedly the style of glass created by taking impressions of Marie Antoinette’s breasts. Though, sadly, this may not be really true, it’s true to me). That pathetic fallacy-ing just freaks me out a touch, cause I see where this is going: the Champale is either going to tip the glass of Champagne over, or the Champagne is going to get all snotty and start speaking French. Nobody wins in this set-up.

Okay, I don’t usually like to post two old booze ads in a row, but I could not skip this Colt 45 add, because it is one of the strangest I’ve ever seen. I did not cut it weirdly in photoshop, or leave anything out. It actually says “Introductory offer: try this completely unique experience and we will send you.” That’s just freaky to me. Send me where? Another dimension? Mars? To a ditch? To a place where miniature women’s heads float around Colt 45 cans? To the pokey (this is my real guess)? To Colt 45 land? On a trip inside my own consciousness? That latter idea is obviously what’s happened, but I’m interested in hearing if any other folks have thoughts? As a side note: I’ve consumed some Colt 45 in my time. Usually when I wanted to prove my gangster cred (of which I have none, really, but I thought Colt 45 was tough) or when it was the only option. So, I’m not coming down on it (completely). I am feeling mind-blown by their ad, though, so much so that I might need to drink some Colt 45 soon. Which means, I guess, that the ad works.

It’s not often (read that as: never) that I’ll try to shy someone away from trying a new type of booze or liqueur. Especially one that’s as good as Metaxa (which is a blend of brandy and wine and mythology). And I sure don’t want the ghost of Spyros Metaxas (he who created Metaxa) haunting me. But if Metaxa starts causing people to die or instantly pass out at the table, and then carom off of the sip of it into their dining companions, thereby ruining the date, then hey, maybe those sad people should stay away. Or, at least, don’t show up so drunk that you can’t enjoy the Metaxa, but just pass out into someone’s forehead as in the below. At least it’s a happy death/passing out (but why wouldn’t it be–by my count, they’ve emptied at least six different drinks). Looking at the smiles, I’m taking back my earlier warning. We’ve all got to go, so why not go with a grin and a good buzz brought on by intriguing Greek beverages?

Sometimes, an image just speaks for itself. Other times, there’s a rubber hand in the image, and it does the talking. On yet other times, there are two drinks that have colors you might expect to see if you hit your head on a rock—on Mars. On yet other times, you catalog bad ideas just by seeing them in print (Bacardi, a once brilliant brand, making premade cocktails that obviously must only be touched with fake hands). On yet other times, all of the above happens at once. It’s a wonder, to me, that the world didn’t implode. At least, as the ad says, “they taste like fresh tropical beauties should taste” on Mars. Well, that’s what they meant.

I’ve enjoyed some Early Times Kentucky bourbon in my time (as has Hoke Moseley, detailed below). But I’ve never received it “handsomely wrapped at no extra cost.” Which is probably why my eyes never went to the wacky angle like the lady’s below–looking directly at her man’s neck? Adam’s apple? She looks a little frightened too, right? There is fear in those eyes. Maybe she knows what Early Times does to her man? Or maybe she forgot to wash her hair this morning and is worried that he’s smelling it without having a drink first, ruining the Early Times’ bouquet? Or maybe (shudder to think) he’s giving her a bit of a spanking in the part of the photo we can’t see, because she was supposed to buy the Early Times yesterday and forgot? Did I take it too far? It is Friday, and something about this is eerie to me. Maybe I need some Early Times, is my problem. Or maybe the 50s weren’t all well-wrapped bourbon and flowers.

Oh, poor pouty Muffy dear–she’s run out of the most delectable beer. Schlitz. I like Schlitz okay (though it’s harder to find these days, or at least hard for me, thank you very much WA state liquor board), and a nice American lager in the lighter style. And, it’s the “beer that made Milwaukee famous.” But no one likes Schlitz as well as Muffy in the below ad. Look how sad she is–you’d think someone just canceled her deb ball. She does have a cute pout though. And look at those nails! And the dress, with sparkles. Schlitz is much more of a playa beer if it’s pulling Muffy’s lush lower lip down. I think I’m gonna go track down some Schlitz. Right now. And then track down Muffy, and turn that frown upside down with the healing power of cheap beer.

Make no mistakes ya mo’rons (I’m just saying “mo’rons” for alliteration by the way–I know you are Einsteins), I’m mad for Maker’s Mark bourbon. It’s an old standby for me, and something I consume on a regular basis, especially when in a dive-y lounge in the back of a Chinese restaurant you’d never eat in, or in a bar frequented by fishermen, or in a Karaoke dive that has a pirate theme. These are places I’m known and happy to be in, but not places where the bartender is gonna whip up some fancy cocktail–but where they will pour you a helluva stiff drink. In these spots, I usually head for the Maker’s and ginger ale (with a lime and some bitters when available), cause it’s a rock steady reliable consumable, or a nice Miller High Life (the Champagne of beers) and a little Maker’s on the rocks. Up until recently, I thought of Maker’s as the perfect mid-range bourbon, a longtime bourbon for the (drunken) people, a very democratic drink. And then I came across the below ad. I guess that I was wrong. Turns out Maker’s was at one time aimed at yachtsmen and fellas who think $50 isn’t much for a haircut. Thank gawd I was born once the bourbon market had found a lower level.

Here’s the problem, today (one of many, but hey, I don’t have that much time, as drinks are waiting for me somewhere). You want to fly safely, and avoid dangerous situations, but you also want to bring your booze on the trip, because everything is better with it (even being stuck next to that smelly guy that has to lean on you in the crowded coach section). With that said, I think there should be an addendum in aviation security that allows you to carry on a suitcase with one of these genius flat Old Crow Traveler bottles built in (see below ad for example)–as long as you’ll take a drink from it before boarding. Of course, Old Crow will have to bring these (genius, again, I say) bottles. But we can start a petition. I know my pal Jeremy Holt (author of Double Take, the world’s best cookbook, by the way) is in. And my man Ed Skoog (author of Mister Skylight, the world’s best poetry collection). And my comrade Dr. Gonzo (writer and director of Battleship!Battleship!Battleship!, the world’s best film about competitive Battleship playing). All of who are travelers. What about you? Let’s get this airline party started, like in the below ad (which, to be nostalgic, points to a better time. For flying at least).