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...

Johnny Walker Black

So Mr. Black, what do thy hath to offer? This was the ultimate question going into our night with plans of consuming The Black label of Johnny Walker. Incase some of you are unaware.... JOhnny walker makes different grades of Whisky...

Red Label - This was our first excursion of Her Walker

Black Label - Front and Center

Green Label - Next in line

Gold Label - this shit is expensive

Blue Label - maybe someday (180 dollar

bottle)

This night started out well. With my last experience fresh in my mind, i was careful to pace myself come the evening. Approximately 8pm arrives, and JOhnny Walker is cracked open. Though red is poor, Black Label is far from pleasing on the pallet. We had a comrade with us, enjoying the evenings entertainment.... which turned out to be a coloful stew of Fake Mustaches, paper, sharpies, tape and Max's immense desire to

share music with the world.

The artist formally known as Geeves

The Unicorn Princess in the Flesh

Tree Hugging Dirt Worshipper

Anyhew, after much consumption, much inhalation (when are these guys gunna learn their lesson!??) and much under water basket weaving.... we were then pulled in by the magnet

known as video game systems. Street Fighter again.... i noticed when i play street fighter i kick serious ass, but every once in a bit Max takes me out... and from this i noticed anger burn in me so strong i want to inflict serious damage on his person, video games are not healthy i say. This night concluded peacefully with little to no yelling, screaming, kicking, puking, howling, meat eating, or candy corn (that shits good too)

Money is the bank,

Shorty what is your preferable

beverage of choice.

kurt cOBAN

Just like Kurt swallowed a barrel of a gun and laid waste to his braincells, Joey had an epic fail last night. The 86 proof Oban 14 year scotch, a scotch from a region nestled perfectly at the intersection of land and sea, a so called "walk on the beach," got down Joey's throat and rallied the prisoners of his stomach and, with a muffled cry, mutinied, taking Joey's dinner and possibly lunch with it. We were watching Siouxsie Sioux videos and then the exalted Alice on Acid for guest Shaina's pleasure, when all of the sudden Joey started to emulate poor Alice. I think the words might even have left his mouth: "I can't do this right now." But its okay, old chum, for thou art definitely not the first fallen soldier:



So how, you may wonder, does an 80 dollar bottle of top shelf Whisky inspire the esophagus to convulse in unpleasant ways? Let's analyze. Oban is unlike almost any of the whisky's we've thrown down the hatchet. It's distinct character is duly noted (and widely appreciated). As for taste, it's muscly, dry, peaty, a bit of the salt of the sea is in every golden olive sip. There's some kind of wicked voodoo in the bottle due to the misty and mysterious qualities of Oban's distillation process. Made in extremely small batches, with 200 year old techniques, using partially germinated malted barley roasted to secret specifications, this is a conoisseur's whisky. In other words, the quality of the alcohol, its taste and complexity are all things to appreciate, not upchuck.

The only reasonable solution to our inquisition is that Joey is a pansy. No, really, the often overlooked statement on almost every bottle you swig out of holds a few ounces of wisdom: Please, Drink Responsibly.

Got "Oban"-ed

Wow. Geeez La Weeez. Well last night wasnt the dreamy creamy whisky drinkin we had all hoped for. So earlier in the day, i stop at BevMo and catch this Bottle of Oban with my Poke' Ball. (((((OBAN WE CHOOSE YOU!!!))))) So Max finishes his shift at slave world, we officially open Oban and proceed to drinkin.

About an hour after the festivities begin, a delightful piece of eye candy arrives as a guest. At this point the mistake was made to bring out the Smokedie Smoke..... not wise. As i soon realize, i was drinkin the Whisky at quit a rapid pace. The Whisky sinks in, the Smoke sinks in, the spins sink in, and my dinner exits from a place i thought food was only suppose to enter......not exit. I rapidly ruin the night and the next thing i know im waking up the next morning..... which happens to be Earth Day! But man, what an epic fail :-|

~HeirTierney

New Bottle Coming Tonight

Tonight a Whottle of Bisky Shall be consumed.

Nice pic right?

Another Random PIcture Update

I post extra pics every now and here and then and there in hopes that it will vibrate the humorous part in your person.

Deep.
yuMmmMmmmy!
woah! Holy Flying Minds Batman!
epic right?
nice face
Whats cooler.... the white ghost thing protruding out of the box like a proboscis? Or that gnarly lookin goat that appears to have dominated all other goats and is the only left on earth?

Picture Update

If You can tell me whats on the labtop, you win a prize
Who are you and what are you doing with my Whisky!
Is she an actor or really just fucked up?
Work pants. Jakes gnarly drawing in the backround. Nice face asshole.

Jameson

Oh, Jameson. Irish WhiskEy indeed. We drank this on Mr. Goodwin's birthday. Jameson was purely polite on the pallet, personifying Mr. John Jameson, a Scottish-born businessman. -> June 2008: Jameson sales reach 2.6 million cases. God Dam right?! Well it deserves the sales because its efficiently priced with an over-efficient taste.

The night ended up with Max and I battling, using our minds, creating strategies and plans to take the other out... in Street Fighter. I was Zangieff for sure, dude is ripped. But Max's Blanka was electrifying my ass and taking me down with his repetitive frustrating low kicks. I attempted to go for the Anderson Silva of Street fight...Dhalsim. I was picking him apart with my reach and slide kicks, but he quickly adapted and took me out again. Then we finished up by watching Super Jail

Another great night for The Whisky Business

Comrade Jameson

You are polite, Herr Jameson! You have a very mild taste, too uninteresting for me, but nonetheless, I can see why the night would go by with you in constant demand. I feel a strange clarity that I rarely feel towards this hour of drunkenness with most other whiskies. Jameson seems to tickle you to drunkenness whereas other alcohols either dunk you, drop you, push you, tackle you or rape you. Thanks for the gentle fuck, Jameson, and the sweet whispers of acrid breath that melt the wax in my ears. Jameson, you made my birthday party and you made it feel like balloons, cake and confetti.

Jameson

Wednesday night, and oh a day i have had says I of the Tierney clan. Almost done with the bottle of Jameson at this point, and type away i shall. Tomorrow i have an exam on Invertebrates in the Arthropod Phylum, i feel 85% ready and the exam is at 3pm tomorrow so ill have some time to study/cram.
This Jameson is not the best tasting, but for the price... the value responds to efficient callings. Pictures to come tomorrow, i wish i could order Crunchy tacos with potatoes and hot sauce inside them along with cabbage, onions, peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, beans, rice and guacamole. And a side of cripsy deep fried french fries that are made from some fast food joint that retains the highest value for my money at 3am at night. Extinguished says I, Chauncy Peppertooth

The Dimple Pinch.

John Haig & Co. is responsible for our cheekiest choice yet: The Dimple Pinch. With its trademark bottle and *cute* name, this is one scotch that seems like it would be quite the treat, or at least a hit at parties. But this blend of "only the very best 15 year old malt and grain whiskies" simply failed to deliver. Maybe it was us expecting more from a 15 year old (reasonably mature for a Scotch) or maybe it was the cute factor, but our enthusiastic plunge into this 750 milliliters was disappointing.

The bottle's description hails its contents as being "a warm, inviting smooth whisky with hints of fruit and spices with a rich, SOFT finish on the palate." Soft? Hardly. Our first little nipper of this paler-than-usual scotch was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Not only, but the nose was decidedly wimpy, a stark contrast to the ram sweat we enjoyed the previous two nights, the pinkies down manliness of Sheep Dip. The honeyed, somewhat almond subtle sweet of The Glenlivet far outdoes the purported richness of The Dimple Pitch. I guess, in one sense, the label was right: "hints of fruit and spices." The complexity which we have come to anticipate in the varied world of scotch whiskies was merely hinted at, suggested. The finish? A smidgen too harsh. To its credit, though, I feel great this morning, though my breakfast beverage did have a slightly woody taste...

The Pinches' lore is pretty fascinating, though. In 1655, Robert Haig (distillery founder) was summoned before a court of law to defend his operation of a distillery on the Sabbath! God forbid. It also boasts a 1987 Gold Medal from the International Wine and Spirits competition. The bottle, which seems to be a focal point of the whisky for its fans, was the first bottle to be patented in the U.S. in 1958.

Being one of the oldest documented still operating whisky distilleries in the world definitely ups the cool factor on this bad boy, and maybe everything out there is just a jumbled imitation, but I, for one, can easily put this one on the dusty back shelves of my whisky sampling memory. 

                                                              Dimple Pinched.

The Double Dip!

You may be thinking: why does Joey have two bottles of Whisky in his clutch? Well, once upon a Thursday evening, one that happened to take place yesterday, an invitation was extended us: Athena and Shaun Nirenstein, our friendly British South African vegan refugee couple, asked to have us round for some homemade curry, various hors d'oeuvres and WHISKY.

"Rock on!" We said and hustled on over. We entered politely at our friends' seventh story super cool 21st century condominium, sat, and tried to contain our excitement over the promise of our favorite golden nectar. Upon request, they pull out two bottles: Jonnie Walker's darker vintage: Bleck, and, with a little red bow secured at the top, a pristine bottle of our previous night's blog post, SHEEP DIP!

"It was a gift," she said, even as our eyes bulged in cheerful non-belief at our luck and the chance to DOUBLE DIP!

And so we whittled the night away indulging Sheep Dip's fine array.

The dawn of Whisky Business Time

When this blog was created, the business of drinking Whisky had already lasted 2 trials. These trials, though in the past, are too be told in this blog titled "The dawn of Whisky Business Time."
First, we started with "The Glenlivet." The Glenlivet has a 12 year aged bottle and a whisky aged as long as 21 years. The 12 year got its chance on our first night. The Glenlivet is all aboard the gravy train. Smooth tasting the entire way through, with a fierce yet calming buzz. At the end of this all i can think of is how delicious the 18yr shall taste when it gets nominated.

Second, we drank Johnny Walker Red label. Deciding between Whiskys at Albertsons is like choosing between intelligent Bush supportters, right? Well, Johnny Walker red was chosen due to classic name, along with a cheap price. A cheap price is what we got i must say. Johnny Walker Red's first sip did not taste good. Upon looking, i found Johnny Walker Red to be a blended Scoth Whisky, which is now not my Whisky of choice. ONly positive from JWR is the hope that the black, green, gold and blue will be better? You guys are gunna buy an expensive bottle of Johhny Walker blue?!?!?! Maybbbbee.... just meebe. Aufweiderhoren.

Post Ingestion Sheep Dip

Morning After Sheep Dip. Sheep dip was definitely diplicious. After reading up on the history and methods of sheep dip from my comrad below, i feel enlightened. Every sip was smooth and creamy like it was just exported from a creamery. The label is a bit on the bland side, aside from the sheep that appears to have aids and is foaming from the mouth.

The problem with Sheep Dip (for me) was that after ingesting about half the bottle, the herb came out and applied the spins to my skull.... not good. Passed out next to some tortilla chips with Zero 7 on the radio. Sheep Dip is a Deep ship to sail. Good Whisky.

-Baby Kangaroo

Sheep Dip. Good Shit.

Jim Murray describes Sheep Dip in his 2006 Whisky Bible as “Young and sprightly like a new-born lamb, this enjoys a fresh, mouthwatering grassy style with a touch of spice. Maligned by some but to me a clever accomplished vatting of alluring complexity."

Yeah, whatever. I want to see this Whisky Bible; I feel I may find in it the answers to my questions of existence, enlightenment, sense of purpose, etc. Or should I do as most religions have ended up doing and just write my own?

Bingo.

Sheep Dip, our baby lamb, is a unique whisky, vatted meaning a blend of several single malt whiskys and apparently created by Scotland's only Third Generation Scotch Master Blender Richard Patterson. My kind of a guy! Let us imagine, for a moment, what this gentlemen must look like. An aged gentleman, enjoys a nice straight up scotch, maybe with Perrier,
wears a little skull cap and a coral turtleneck...oh shit...something like this:

(Joey?)

Not only did I feel as if I were shipped deep into the grassy meadows of a sweetly warm Spring day, the grass blossoming its little spores into my nostrils, but the Joey and I were only out 39 dollars plus tax, encouraging us to indulge in a shiny new pair of bucket glasses to imbibe our particular pick of poison.

So, I've failed, in some respect, to understand the multi-faceted world of Scotch aficionado stuffiness, which, mind you, seems at least a little less pretentious than the parvenu riddled world of Winos (sorry Mom). Or perhaps scotch drinkers are just more fun. The comments section of the Sheep Dip website features a lively collection of satisfied customer responses. One wrote a limerick (but hasn't posted it there, or else I'd ask to reproduce it here). And I can relate. This scotch had a complexity that you could imagine might get lost or at least confused in a blend of several different 8 to 12 year old single malts, but maybe its Richard's master blending capabilities or the blind glee that caused me to dip, without reserve, my brain into this cup o' caramel splendour.

Three things!

1. Sheep Dip got its name from an ages old tradition of farmers hiding their whisky from the tax collectors and their wives in barrels labeled "SHEEP DIP" instead of "WHISKY." In honor of this amusing tradition, the folks at Spencerfield Spirit (the proprietors of Sheep Dip) so named the spirit we got infused with the night just past.

2. The term sheep dip refers to a liquid formulation of insecticide and fungicide which shepherds and farmers may use to protect their sheep from infestation against external parasites such as itch mite (Psorobia ovis), blow-fly, ticks, keds and lice. (Wikipedia Article Here)

3. If asked, one day, how do I know if this concoction my friend Stewart made is a genuine Scotch Whisky? Well, lucky quackers, the legal requirements for a Scotch Whisky are as follows:

1. Must be distilled at a Scottish distillery from water and malted barley, to which only other whole grains may be added, have been processed at that distillery into a mash, converted to a fermentable substrate only by endogenous enzyme systems, and fermented only by the addition of yeast,
2. Must be distilled to an alcoholic strength of less than 94.8% by volume so that it retains the flavour of the raw materials used in its production,
3. Must be matured in Scotland in oak casks for no less than three years and a day,
4. Must not contain any added substance other than water and caramel coloring
5. May not be bottled at less than 40% alcohol by volume. (thanks Wikipedia!)
   

Geesh, who knew? Someone did. And someone regularly enforces these rules, no doubt! Looks like whatever we make in our bathtubs and backyards here in America has no chance of carrying that classy label with the words "Genuine Scotch Whisky" on it.

To sum it up: Sheep Dip is a cost effective choice with a complex and interesting flavor, an alluring and well thought out marketing scheme, rave expert reviews (hey...an honorable mention in the Bible of Whisky ain't bad), a guilt-free morning after, and a permanent place on our Shrine to Scotch.

deep ship

Hammered, or enamored? Sweet Baphomet! this whisky is the bees knuckles! Oh my gourd, I feel like Shakira... Und where did I journey this fine amber coloured evening? Inside the layer of the Giraffe Man. Where we necked around and found that HEY this ship is getting deep. The cold interiors, the creaking of the metal walls succumbing to the pressure of cold, cold water. Too much poison come undone.

And suddenly, at 12:54 AM the Sheep Dip is empty.

there's lots of options that are undesirable. Sheep Dip is not. I desire this whisky like mad.

Lovely little luscious layered liquid.

Sheep Dip!

Tonight! Drinking "Sheep Dip," and its real good. Every sip i drink tastes like candy. Long day of school work... so tonight naturally called for a solid bottle of blended single malt Scotch whiskey. The bottle is almost diminished atthis point, can you tell?!? While it does taste delicious, my only complant would be the price...... i mean, what kind of market does Sheep Dip really cover in South San Jose? This house for schweeezy!.

Day After Speyburn

Ahhhh creamy Speyburn,
Im not quit as... "poetic" as my comrad here. But the day after Speyburn left me feeling quezy to say the least, im sure the 3 hours of sleep followed by a grueling 8 hour Chinese ingestion party run (or, "work") didnt help. Did i mention we mixe evry sip of Whisky with breaths of thick smoke?.... im sure that doesnt help our judgment of hangover quality. Still, this whisky did the trick after a long night of work, and with a fancy metal cylinder case and a price not too high, id ingest again.

speyBURNED.

The honeyed pleasures of Speyburn, sadly, have their pains incorporated. The scintillating texture, including what the label calls a "peaty finish," make for a delightful experience. But woe to thee who has to work in the morning! E Gads the "peaty finish" just hasn't finished yet. If anything, it has finished any plans I had to be productive today.

Still, I declare the Speyburn a charming single malt Highland Scotch from the (namesake) Speyside region (which lies between Elgin and Inverness) a welcome addition to my lifelong alcohol consumption checklist.

The Official Speyburn 10-year Website Here

Pictures!!?!? wtf!!?!?!

Pictures to come tomorrow for all the millions waiting

The Unicorn Princess Dominates the Night

My desire, my whisky is terribly addicting. i love the sweet nectar. it makes my hair stand completely on end. this one is extremely exuberant, and the elevation is mucho appreciated. je suis la jeune fille. who cares? and who cares about the starless sky? when we reach that point who cares? and i love the stars i love the whisky nights, the nights clouded amber, that quiver with possibility and the idea of exploration. fuck the norm and embrace the hormone.

Speyburn

Here we have this blog, with typing in it. We are enjoying Speyburn whisky: Single Malt Scotch Whisky. First taste, smooth whisky with hints of cream in the after taste. Ive never heard of this shit before i saw it on the shelf at Albertsons after work tonight, jeesus fuck work sucks a fat one. Working in a bar all night makes me want to ingest alcohol more than anyone could imagine. Currently 2:30 am and enjoying another bucket glass of Speyburn whisky with soda water. This is our third bottle of the whisky adventure, and im enjoying it to the Max.