PLANNING INSANITY THREE MONTHS IN ADVANCE

Mordechai in New York/New Jersey asked his friends what their favourite beverages are. Mordechai, it turns out, knows some extremely hardcore alcoholics. Of which I am not one. Yes, we are Facebook friends. But judging from the responses he received, a number of his other friends may be passed out cold at this hour.

Or gibbering.


Scotch. Absinthe. Mojito. Whiskey & Gingerale. Fireball in apple cider. Bombay Sapphire. Vodka. Jaeger bomb. Long Island Ice Tea. Glenfiddich. Rye. Laphroaig. Box wine. Pina Colada. Screwdriver. Washington Apple. Strawberry Daiquiri. Fuzzy Navel. Bourbon. Equal parts whiskey and Amaretto. Tequila. Sloe Gin Fizz. Cosmo. Lagavulin. Glenfiddich. Whiskey Sour. Eagle Rare. Woodford Reserve. Rum. Rumchata. Sweet Fruity Bullshit. Balvenie Single Cask 39. Glengoyne. Pickle Back. Brandy Old Fashioned. New Orleans Hurricane. Pink Lady. White Russian. Pappy van Winkle. Abuelo 12. Knob Creek. Manhattan. Mexican Bulldog. Bunnahabhain Cruach Mhona. Gin & Tonic. Jameson Mule. Black Basil. Screwdriver. Brass Monkey. Harvey Wallbanger. Root Beer Schnaps. Drambuie and Baileys. Glenlivet French Oak. Abelour 10. Isle of Jura. Lagavullin 16. Ardbeg.
Etcetera.


Either Mordechai is planning the Purim party that goes nuclear, OR they tapped him to host the kiddush club at his shul. In either case, there were far too many horrid fruity drinks, and Long Island Ice Tea seems to be a dominant theme. Many of his friends are obviously twenty two year old blondes or eighty year old grandmothers.

The appropriate brocha is mi sheberach, and after a sufficient interval (24 to 48 hours) has passed, birchas ha gomel.

These folks will drink anything.

Long Island Ice Tea?!?

Good gracious!

Pervs!


Now is the appropriate time to mention that I myself am an abstemious man, of fiercely Calvinistic sensitivities and restraint. I hardly ever drink.
Once in a blue moon, maybe.

My answer to the question he posed was: Cheap bar Scotch and a splash of tap water. Single malts late at night. Sherry sometimes with spicy food. Wine occasionally. Jameson's Irish Whiskey at the place owned by the crazy lady after hours when pubcrawling with the bookseller.

The bookseller is an abstemious man too.

The crazy lady is not.

I hope Mordechai invites me to that party. I would be honoured, damned well pleased as punch, but there is no chance that I would go. For one thing, it's the East Coast, and one has to be smashed to contemplate it.

Blessed is Mordechai.




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