Saturday, June 5, 2010

The Well Endowed Black Bottle of Sir Gordon Graham



First off, Rest Sweetly and Serenely, beautiful and endeared Rue McClanahan aka Blanche Devereaux. You are the most amazing GILF (Grandma, I'd Like to...) I've ever known. And on to the whisky--

Why did I choose this obscure bottle to contribute to our liver damage?

Allow me to quote the box:

"Black Bottle 10 Year Old challenges the rules of deluxe whiskies - its heart is made entirely of Islay malts from each of the island's seven distilleries, blended with the finest grain whiskies. Islay malts are different from their mainland counterparts. They are known the world over for their deep intensity and their powerful smokiness. And they reach their prime at 10 years old. Which is why Black Bottle 10 Year Old embodies the most fulsome and satisfying taste of Islay. It will stimulate the palate, warm the heart and fire the imagination."

Who doesn't want to be stimulated? Who doesn't want that fuzzy cozy feeling in the chest that only the burn of a solid bottle of liquid amber and an episode of Golden Girls can instill? Who doesn't want their imagination fired up to the Nth degree, where words, ideas, actions flow as smoothly as excessive amounts of oily foods digested with the help of alcohol from the bowels?

Excuse the disgusting analogy. But I was seduced at once by the bold statements of this distiller, one Gordon Graham (originally). It just makes sense that the island malts have their heart in a different place, a more wispy, salt sheen, frothiness that delights the most discerning of tongues? The stuff was solid. At around 28 dollars a bottle, this underrated whisky deserves a little time in the limelight. So here you go, black bottle! We created a youtube channel and recorded a rather shitty video for your viewing pleasure, in which we pay tribute to my recently (her funeral was the day we drank it) deceased organ instructor, Tasia Mitchell.

But before I get to that, there is always a wee bit of lore about every bottle of scotch. Steeped in history, scotch making is the pride of the Scots and it shows in their keeping of legends about the distillers, origins, marketing ploys (both failed and otherwise), and, of course, popularity.

Along those lines, Black Bottle was sold in a black glass bottle up until World War I, as the bottles were produced in Germany. The original distillers were tea blenders! David and Gordon Graham produced the first batch in 1879. A distillery fire nearly destroyed the business, but a revamped product in the hands of smart contemporary Scots has upped the popularity so much recehantly, that it was nominated for the Drammies in 2008!

So how does Black Bottle stack up? It gets high marks for its unique Islay character, is not too sweet (like Jonnie Walker and his fairy whiskies), and has a very smooth roll off the tongue, down the throat, where it seems to rest somewhere in between the stomach and the head. I imagine ramshackle houses on the seashore with patches of green salt-loving grasses, father smiling smugly with his little fisherman's hat and his bristly beard framing his smiling chapped lips, while he rosy-faced pours another glass, mother at the hearth, drinking straight from the bottle to warm her toes, her ruddy hair straggling across her unspecific face, vegan stew in the pot (yeah, thats a bit of a stretch) and a fattening loaf of bread in the potbelly stove. Ah, coastal splendour, and all the fog of the mind that comes with it!

So set your sails, mates, and experience the very first tastes of Gordon Graham's Black Bottle with your hosts, Sir Toey Jierney and Sir Raximus Mex.

Cheers!

Friday, June 4, 2010

Black What? :-|



Can you say horrible marketing? I mean, as im writing this blog im constantly having to referr back to this picture ---> to reming my brain of the name of the bottle.....and everytime i look i think "Black Bottle," gimme a break. Well this night was a bit different, as we started consuming her Black Bottle we decided it best to abandon ship and head downtown to drink in public places. Twus an exciting evening of friends, drunks, spillages and friends leaving other friends for other friends with much more creativity and flair. After downtown we shuttled back to BLack Bottle and back to fun.... In all honestly, i dont remember the rest of that evening too much. We got back, mixed some Black Bottle (:-|) with some Pelligrino and got down with one of our favorite past times, mind numbing.
Goldeneye for Nintendo 64 has been giving 007 a run for its money lately.
Alas, this is the last post i shall be contributing until my adventure into the
mountains. I shall be attending Sequoia National forest for the summer, living like a Apeman, in the trees, getting paid, skateboarding everyday, enjoying life and most importantly in retrospect.....not drinking.... what was it called again?.... Way to make an impression asshole.... no more Black bottle for me.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Gentleman Whack!

There's really no excuse, Jack. We know you make bank off us. We know you're one of the most popular drinks ordered thusly: "Can I get (I'll have/take) a ________ and coke, please (the please only sometimes)." We know you're probably partially at least responsible for the liver failure of frat boys all across these fifty nifty United States (and Guam), that you seep into the stomach lining of our golden youth, dilute their judgment, impair their spatial reasoning. We know you help stoke the blazes of many a dying fire in the loins of guys and dolls all over. So, please, with all the money you pilfer from us so that we may fuck up our lives with your manly juice, invest some back into your Gentleman Jack. Or should I say, Gentleman Whack! This shit is the most whack ass different bottle same great taste, stupidly obvious consumer whore corporate whisky wanna-be upgrade on a "great American" product I've ever experienced. And we fell for it. I might as well have pissed on my forty dollars and stuck it to my forehead and proceeded to go out in public wearing a shirt with George W. Bush's chimpanzee ass face on it and some text below that reads: "Miss me Yet?"



Whatever. We got drunk, rode bikes, made vegan chick'n burgers with fresh avocado, tomato and spinach and fraternized on a dizzying journey back from one of the most productive trips I've ever made to San Francisco. Oh yeah, and we now have ice cream cone cups with twisty straws attached! liek omigosh.


Friday, May 14, 2010

Gentleman Jack


As we are but kind men, we are Gentleman. And as we are nomads, we are also thrill seekers; seeking great times in the most mundane situations. A day with no work for either Max or myself must consist of some form of extreme adventures, and as we began to board the Caltrain home from San Francsico, we sought out a thrill of the free... taking Whisky onto Caltrain and getting to business.
<----- yes Indeed we are But Gentlemen of the Jack. After initially choosing Jack Daniels, Max insisted we raise our standards and i obliged. After boarding the train of the Cal, we cracked Sir Gentleman of Jack. Is the Whisky taste altered by a cup with a twisty straw wrapping up around the cup like a tornado? Yes. With that said, Gentlemans Jack sucked major phat ass. I mean shit man, this shit is designed for a gentleman.....supposedly. I could believe the shit as Jack Daniels in a different bottle, that for some weird reason costs more. Well Max and I drank about half of this beast, got off Caltrain and operated our
bicycles all the way to Max's pad to play some half drunked stonered scrabble. After scrabble we naturally battled some street fighter, polished off the ugly, disgusting, un-respectable, lying, cheating, pathetic, worthless (almost), and atrocious excuse for our first Bourbon of Whisky Business. If you shall consume and are debating on upgrading to Sir Gentleman Jack, save yourself some much needed scrill, and dont. Gentleman Jack is Gentleman crap. Over and out.

Token Blog Link

Friday, May 7, 2010

Johnny Walker Green




Johnny Walker Green... where do i begin? If your a loyal follower like Max and I hope so, you'll know green was next up on our Johnny Walker list. Definitely some high expectations going into this one, the dam bottle cost 60 bucks. I was hoping for a bottle made of 100% recycled material that donated 35% of profits to saving the rain forest, quit the contrary. We began this bottle on a dusky Mid Week day with scrabble on our minds.

<-----If you can read that miniature image than congratulations to you. As the night trickled on, we soon came to realization that this Whisky was not all we thought it would be. Rather than making us "green" Stewards to the environment, our faces turned green along with our livers. Johnny Walker Green is garbage, that does not deserve to be recycled. Im sure you all remember buying that cheep Wal Mart product you thought was so well priced, only to have the plastic peel off, the layers come undone or the basic mechanics of it simply fail after only a short time of use. Well my friends, Wal Mart obviously makes crap that causes our landfills to grow at an alarming rate, so maybe they are the original creators of Johnny Walker Green. After only 2 or 3 glasses, the label on the Johnny Walker green started peeling off.... AND the fucking cork broke in half.


What a seriously Epic fail... my face in the picture that is... Well the night went on regardless. Max is considering entering the Scrabble Olympics due to his extremely large vocabulary. He acts weird when he wins though...
Aside from the fact that Johnny Walker Green sucks ass, it was an extremely fun night. Max's exuberant roomate Jake played a game or two of scrabble with us as well. The night ended typically with Street Fighter, god i love that game. Until Next Time, Whisky Business Over and OUT.


P.S.

Anne of Green Labels.

I thought it would save the environment.
There's definitely a misty glow about Johnnie Walker's Green Label, with its gilded lines and lettering, its deep hunter green with an almost matte finish. It looks exotic in a line of Jonnie Walker bottles--the forbidden meadow, the ferngully. And we hoped, sincerely, to be led into the Great Valley, where fruits resplendent shine on trees and water flows between your knees, where the fey folk live in their gourd houses, birds chattering the Gospel of Gaia on their leaf heavy branches...

But instead we were just kind of drowned in a foetid swamp.
(negative 50 health/mana fer sure)



Well, every bottle is a gamble. This one just happened to be an expensive one. A night of tasting and re-tasting and evaluating and reevaluating led me to an enlightening conclusion. Perhaps it isn't the age of JW, but the substance itself. There's something foul in the bottle, in the mix, in the process, who knows? It's just, and I quote myself "too sweet for me. When I drink Scotch I want to be grated against something, something grainy and woody. Johnnie Walker, you are a pussy." I hereby disrespect any lamefoot who orders this particular vintage, this particular Scotch as his drink of choice a goober. The Glenlivet is soft on the palate, sure, but it is both interesting, adequately oak barelly, and a charming introduction to Scotch. As in, if Scotch were California and all the different types cities in California, it would be important to visit the right city to get turned on to California, or to get a faithful representation of California's wonder, wealth, and diversity...aka, its beauty! So, if this were the case, the Glenlivet might be San Francisco. JW Green might be Fresno. Do not go there. For that matter, avoid Blythe (JW Red) and Bakersfield (JW Black):



On a cheerier note, we had a blast with claymation Jacob who only went narcoleptic towards the most latter part of the evening, I have no perceivable hangover, though my heads in a cloud (but when is it not?), and I did my degree some justice by winning two games of Scrabble with words like Azalea, Herb, and Dour. 


Gloat-worthy.

Live Action Joey, it's your turn.
































P.S.
DO NOT CLICK HERE :D

Thursday, April 29, 2010

J. Dubya Bleck.


Black is the most beautiful color, known in physics as the perfect absorber of light, or to us as the color you do not wear in Summer in Bakersfield unless you have a queer desire to have a heatstroke. Like the color itself, which absorbs all the visible colors of light, Joey and I are on a quest to absorb all the colors that Jonnie Walker has to offer.

Red was meh-tastic. Cheap, efficient, unspectacular.
Black was nothing to write home about, but some bizarre energy emanated from that bottle last night--causing us to create the cup protectors Joey shows below as well as give the bottle a face, some character. Character...something that, so far, the Walker clan seems to lack. Perhaps that is why we endeavored to decorate. J.W. Black's lack of complexity, lack of interesting, definitive qualities bored us. Thank Anubis for youtube, synthetic facial hair, my newly decorated gothic altar, my pvc bordered lip service dress shirt (bought special for the occasion), and all things black.

                                                                                                        Like:

                                     Siouxsie Sioux's eyebrows 
                                       Robert Smith's hair
                                   Black satin sheets
                                 ?Obama?
                                     Mother's eyes after private time with Father
                                  The Abyss
                                      Gun Oil Lubricant
                                   Most strap on dildos
                                The Necronomicon
                                       Satan's butthole
                                         My genitalia...