March 12, 2010
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.
February 16, 2010
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).
January 19, 2010
I don’t usually think of my brown liquors (such as those in Dark Spirits—and yes, that was a blatant book shout out) in kissy-face terms. I mean, they’re often easy going down, and flavorful, and delicate in their whiskey-scotch-brandy-darkrum-etc way, but I still rarely utilize “smooching,” or “tongue-wrestling,” or “suck-face,” or “making out” when describing them, or even more rarified terms like “lip locking.” Which is dumb of me. Cause I’ve always thought kissing drunk people (only tipsy wife Nat for many years, of course) was dandy. And if they’ve been bourbon-ing or dark-spirit-ing, even better (as long as no smoking is involved, cause kissing a smoker is like kissing an ashtray’s ass). That (all that, rambling around) may be why I dig the Inver House Scotch ad below. Sexy, isn’t it? Besides the facts that her neck was probably broken to get that angle, and that Inver House isn’t as adored as it once was (at least it doesn’t seem to be among drinkers I know). Think of this ad next time you’re kissing, and then tell that favorite him/her, “You’re soft as Scotch.” I’ll bet you get even more kisses. Or slapped. One of the two.
January 8, 2010
It’s winter (at least within the latitudes I reside within), and I’m dreaming a bit of summer, of sitting outside with a cold, tall, delish beverage, far away from today’s actual chilliness. And when I dream of summer, I always like to wonder: what would androids in the future drink, if they had a head full of LSD and had been swimming? You, I’m guessing, wonder the same thing. Luckily, there’s a little pamphlet that was put out in 1976 called Summer Comfort that tells us: they drink Southern Comfort. If you don’t believe me, take a gander at the cover of said pamphlet below. Have you ever seen a better representation of drugged-up soaking wet androids? I didn’t think so.
PS: Because androids and their robot brethren and sisterthren bleed out milk, I’m guessing the actual drink from the pamphlet they’re most fond of is the “New! Cow Shot.” Which is 1-1/2 ounces Southern Comfort, 1/2 ounce crème de cacao, and 3 ounces cold milk over ice. It’s “superb, no bull!”
December 29, 2009
Everyone is asking it: was Champagne created by the devil (providing your belief system has a devil in it–if not, just fake it for now) to entrap people into getting loopy and lustful as the old year ends? I mean, we do consume a lot of Champagne and bubbly (and Champagne and bubbly cocktails, one hopes, to get away from the mundane-ity) this time of year, and it is sort-a like the death of the year, and the devil is on people’s minds when they think of death. And drunken revelry has mistakenly been touted as evil before (when, in actuality, it is really full of goodness a full 87.463% of the time). What do I think about the whole “Champagne was created by the devil” rigmarole that’s being tossed around so much on TV news shows and talk radio? Well, let’s see what the ads say, because advertising is the most trustworthy business there is (after used-car selling, prostitution, and the NBA). First, check out this ad, from way back in 1908 (I think):
You see the devil is, actually, involved, using the bubbly to entice a lovely young maiden and a dancing, prancing (romancing), satyr. Or is it a faun? Or just a drunk kid? I get those confused. Wait, what’s that you say? The woman is pouring the bubbly for the devilish character? That makes it less probable that he created it. But wait, though, wait (again), what about this ad from a little later in history:
Here, mean ol’ scratch is pouring it out with an evil grin. No doubt about it. Well, maybe a little doubt. I mean, he is pouring it a long way–why would he want to potentially spill what he created? It almost seems like he’s showing off his bar skills, maybe looking for a new gig behind the stick, and not trying to drunky up the masses at all. Maybe, just maybe, the devil didn’t create Champagne in the least bit (and maybe, just maybe, I’m just devil’d up from reading too many pre-code devilish horror comics during The Horrors of It All’s Devilcember). Wait, though, wait (again): this last ad below definitely points to the possibilities of the devil at least being associated with Champagne. Because if this isn’t a minion of the devil pushing the Champagne in the ad, I don’t know my religious cosmology:
Okay, wait, though, wait (one last time): I think I get it, finally. The devil is only responsible for Champagne or bubbly in a can. I think I can believe that. Now, go stock up for New Year’s Eve, devilish ones, and don’t forget to save a glass of bubbliciousness for me (as long as it’s poured from a bottle).
December 22, 2009
I’m not saying I won’t post again before any more holidays hit in the second to the last week of 2009 (I’ll definitely post again before 2010, so c’mon back y’all), but just in case I don’t, and in the spirit (and spirits) of the season, I wanted to wish every reader of this blog (all four of you, or five when certain people are out on parole) a happy and boozy holiday of your choice and holiday season. Now, it might seem like my sentiments would be enough, but because I’m always willing to go the extra mile (or mile of bottles), I brought in hunky (still) Sean Connery and a bottle of Beam to help with the wishes. Go on, fill up a glass and look into his eyes . . . that’ll make your holiday extra happy, I promise (unless you pass out from the dreaminess. Well, that might make your holiday happier, too).
December 11, 2009
Why are modern booze ads so lame? There’s always some moodily lit scene with some medically enhanced bimbo and a guy wearing a billion dollar suit, or the same bulimic piece-of-work at the pool wearing so little fabric that Gypsy Rose Lee would blush (not that I mind, completely, but the IQ should at least be higher than the number of feet of water in the pool), or a talking horse or lizard, or some knuckleheads trying to come up with an asinine catch-phrase (“what it isssssss” or “hey yeahhhhhhh”) that trails off into a series of consonants boring enough to make you drink, sure, but only anything besides what’s being advertised. Instead of this jibber-jabber, let me present the below ad, which pal Philip (check out his baby, the cutest in the land, at the blog A Lifetime of Worry) sent me, after he found it on the Edwenden blog, which took it from the March 1953 issue of Men Only. The incredibly happy and devious cat is drinking the rum, after the high-kneed kid poured it in the bowl, as father looks on sadly. That, friends, is the definition of genius. The cat is drinking the rum–and look at his eyes! Genius. And I am going to buy a bottle of Lemon Hart rum right now. Which shows that genius ads can work.
