The Complete Lunatic's Guide to the 5 Best Sipping Whiskeys
You're not operating under any false pretenses here: You're an asshole. The only things you truly love are yourself, the cardinal sins, and fine whiskey. And you're okay with that. But you're sick and tired of grabbing a Kentucky Bourbon and getting into a fistfight with a bicycle courier, when you should be sipping a nice Single Malt and watching mail-order Russian brides wrestle for the imitation diamonds that you threw on the floor. If only there were some way to know what type of whiskey pairs well with the specific kind of irredeemable asshole that you are! Unfortunately, whiskey is like madness - its exact effects will vary depending on family history, mental state, and pattern of drug use - but here's a rough starter guide to help ensure you're the right kind of dickhead drunk tonight:
Maudlin, Repressed JerkBushmill's '70s porn title-sounding Black Bush is definitely a member of the Bushmill's line, but with a more distinguished character than its common counterpart. It also comes in a fancy cardboard tube that will utterly fail to convince the liquor store attendant that you're an "aficionado" instead of a "sobbing drunk." NoseWood, leather, and sherry. It reminds you of your grandfather's library (before he killed himself in there and your great aunt had it sealed up because she couldn't take the memories).
But don't assume you'll win: He once did for sixteen Japs with their own gat dang machine gun.His eyes will be glazed over as he alternately reminisces on the camaraderie and regrets the atrocities of wartime. Something about his cadence of speech will remind you of your grandfather and the confusion you felt at his passing. You will headlock him by the dumpsters when he steps out to smoke, and that will go swimmingly for about two minutes, but then the drunk will turn on you and you'll end up internally mixing a cocktail of familial grief and childhood sexuality. They'll find you partially inside a trash can, half-hugging a scared old man while sobbing something about Mickey Swarsdon's beautiful little hands.
Closet RacistDistilled in 1830s Kentucky, Bulleit's original recipe vanished abruptly, along with its founder, Augustus Bulleit, while traveling from Louisville to New Orleans. Revived by his great-great-grandson in 1987, Bulleit is a classic Kentucky Bourbon aged in oak barrels and flavored with the sudden, mysterious disappearances of southern gentlemen.
That this is the first place your mind goes for "black bartender" is kind of the issue, really.You have inadvertently sparked the kind of racial blood feud that could only end amicably if you somehow saved his life while trapped in a basement with two hillbillies, a gimp and a samurai sword.
Unfaithful Husband and PervertHailing from the Scottish island of Islay, Laphroaig had its beginnings in small, illegal stills, like Scottish moonshine, but eventually grew to be a respected and esteemed establishment, like a Scottish Red Lobster.
"Beat me! Belittle me! BURN ME! I've been so nau-wait, do you think this might be getting a little out of hand?"You'll just have to do whatever you're told. Whatever
American Standard Angry DrunkEverybody knows Johnnie Walker Black: The much cooler cousin of Johnnie Walker Red, who only comes to town two or three times a year to make JW Red look bad in front of all his friends. But he usually buys Red some weed before he leaves, so it's all good.
But that's okay: The whiskey says you can take 'em all, no problem.
Period Piece VillainA unique and distinguished drink, Redbreast is a 12 year old pure potstill Irish Whiskey distilled in County Cork, Ireland. It is one of only two pure potstill Irish Whiskeys still in production today.
Like this, but with all the dignity replaced by dongs.When you insisted that his trade embargoes where the political equivalent of cowering behind his mother's skirts, he stripped off his waistcoat and flung it to the ground. When you implied that his reluctance to approve a campaign of precise sorties on key supply routes was due to an unseemly concern for his own public face, off came the shirt. When you called him the black sludge that leaked out of his father's anus after a night of coital role-reversal, the congealed puddle miraculously given life solely to teach his parents the consequences of perverting God's sexual will, he threw his underwear into the fire and came after you with a cast iron hat rack and a fury-erection.
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter and Facebook or you can just drink until you're likable. Hey, it's bound to happen one of these days.