The Worst Whiskies in the World Part One

Many people exist in this world with a purpose, to make the place better for those who come after them. I’ve never been one of those people. I was, in fact, kind of bummed to have an epiphany at age 28 and realize I was not only not immortal, but I was not even living in a universe custom-create for me. I was just one of several billion shlubs muddling through, and that was kind of depressing. Then followed a period of Super Villainy, where I not only didn’t try to help my fellow man or improve the world, I actively tried to ruin both.

But now I am mature. And I am here to do what I can to help. How can I help? I considered my talents: Rare and often not obviously useful. I can, for example, almost remember your name after meeting you just four or five times. It’s eerie. Also, I can do simple algebra equations in my head, so if four ounces of chicken has ninety calories, I can tell you how many calories three ounces has. Every time.

Still, none of these talents seemed like the sort of thing that would help the world in a significant way. So I despaired for a while and turned to writing, and we all know the damage I’ve done there. And then it hit me: If there’s one thing I know something about, it’s booze. And I’ve had a lot of really, really awful whiskies in my time. Why not share that horrible knowledge and spare my fellow man such suffering?

Of course, even there I fail, because I am not a fancy man who can tell you things like how whiskey is made or what it is, exactly, I am tasting. I have the palate of a bum used to drinking moonshine and antifreeze. All I know is whether I would gnaw off my own foot to escape further shots of a whiskey or not.

So, our first candidate is a German whiskey called Slyrs. German whiskey! Next thing you know we’ll have a lady president or something! No, seriously: German whiskey. Rather than bore you with a befuddled and confusing essay about the horrors going on in my mouth when I drink Slyrs, I thought I would use a simple video representation of the fact that if told I had to either drink instantaneously fatal poison made from the crushed testicles of dung beetles or drink another shot of Slyrs, I would choose the poison without hesitation.

Here’s the visual of that reaction:

You’re welcome.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.