On Spirits

       I see quite a few spirits on occasion.
       Tall ones and short ones, thin ones and fat ones, black ones and clear ones, brown ones and yellow ones.  Even the occasional red and blue one, or some other outlandish color.
       And you can own any of them, for the right price.
       Yes, the liquor store is a fascinating place.
       More fascinating than the bottles containing the spirits is what is allowed to go on the bottles.  For example, there are no less than fourteen different brands of vodka that claim to be the “world’s finest.”  And I can guarantee, from personal experience, that almost all of them lie.
       I’ve come up with a theory, you see.  The more a liquor, or any alcoholic beverage, for that matter, claims that it is the most refined and amazing thing on Earth, the more you’ll vomit after imbibing it and the worse your hangover will be the morning after.
       Even the humble beer isn’t immune to this theory.  The name Milwaukee’s Best, for example, is an oxymoron unto itself.  Miller High Life claims to be the “Champagne of Beers.”  I, for one, tend to refer to it by the generic name that Germans apply to most domestic American beers:  Pißwasser.  
       (For those that don’t speak fluent German, it literally translates to “urine water.”)
       Another warning sign is for any potent spirit that comes in a bottle advertised as “unbreakable.”  In other words, plastic.  This is the industry’s secret language for “deity-awful rot-gut for people prone to getting lit off their posteriors and dropping the container.”
       On the other end of the spectrum are the bottles which truly need a warning label, and in this respect, I’m not referring to those government-sanctioned ones about pregnant women who really shouldn’t partake for the sake of their child’s future intellectual development.  (Although, judging by the rather sorry state of common sense these days, a little mental impairment might actually help the kiddo fit in.)  Nor do I mean the classic “Please Enjoy Responsibly.”  No, by a warning label, I mean something along the lines of “Failure to regulate your intake of the contained beverage may result in your regaining consciousness in a different state without your clothes on.”
       Not that I’ve ever done that, of course.
       My clothes were still on.