Face Of New Orleans

Let me preface this post with saying that I thought it pretty well impossible for me not to enjoy a spirit. I found two recently that damn near nauseate me. And no, these aren’t rot-gut whiskies or anything. These are “quality” spirits, and priced as such. The Bái Jiǔ from Baojing runs about $35 a fifth and the Juniper Green gin ranges, but I paid about $27 for a fifth of it.

Bái Jiǔ is an asian spirit that, in the case of this particular brand, is “filtered through 168 carats of diamonds for pristine taste and for good fortune.” Gord. I don’t care if its filtered through Mother Theresa’s panties as long as it doesn’t taste as horrendous as this mess of crap did. Its become somewhat of a feigned threat in our house as a punishment during drinking games. The Bái Jiǔ was actaully the more pleasing of the two, because I had no preconceptions of what it would taste like.

Juniper Green’s “london dry gin” is nothing of the sort. The thing that was most dissappointing about it was that I had been looking forward to trying this spirit for about two years and just never got my hands on it. It tastes like a rancid clear malt whisky with some pine and other oddities in it. It almost felt like it could be something like a jonge genever, but it doesn’t even have a pleasant taste to it. Juniper Green is uneven on the palate and honestly, the only way I was able to use it was to make a punch out of it so the “flavor” wasn’t so prevalent.

Don’t buy these. I’m not saying this to intrigue you or challenge you into buying them. Don’t. They’re horrible.

An open letter to our government: Please, neglect New Orleans, further than you already have. I beg you, try to make the city flood to 20 feet. I realize you may be confused and a bit angry at this request, and that is understandable. The reason I deplore you to do so is that, eventually, you will get tired of trying to squash us out. Because, you see dear officials, we can’t bury our dead 6 foot deep like everywhere else. Most people will tell you that because of the city being below sea level, the caskets float from the soil, but they are misinformed. Their bodies just miss the taste of good red beans and rice too much. So please, wear yourselves out on trying to break us. It should prove humorous for us to watch.

I’d have punched you in the face.  No dear readers, not you.  I’m referring to “fighters” that would implode if they didn’t make an ever so irritating “tssst” or “psshh” or whatever the hell other variant they exclaim when they manage to flail their limbs about.  Listen up guys, making those noises officially buys you a lifetime membership to the moron club.  Your bumper sticker with MC on it is in the mail.  And yes…..this also applies to those of you that make these freakishly irritating noises when you do your benchpress, well, because that’s all you really work out.  That is all children.