How the Hell Do You Drink Rum?

Even the lowest scrapings
of a pirate’s grog
Is the sweetest heavenly
burn in my eggnog.
What is up with you Yanks and your pirates? Don’t get me wrong, Johnny Depp seems like a good dude, especially for an American. He was damn cool in at least the first of what I’m sure will be at least a baker’s dozen of those Pirates of the Warm Sea movies. And the fact that some movie star is finally properly channeling Keith Richards, one of the few cool Brits left in the world, is long overdue in the Hollywood turd factory out there in Lala land. A man could do worse than black eyeliner and a perpetual buzz; sure beats the bleedin’ liver out of Scientology. But why do such advanced, bad ass dudes drink such shiet?
I know there are plenty of historic and practical reasons for rum being the way it is but (other than gin, i.e. Wanker Piss) it is my least favorite liquor. Even “good” rum has so much damn sugar in there that after taking in a proper amount to actually feign interest in the ignorant babble the barmaid wearing the pirate custom on National Pirate Day is droning on about will necessitate at least 3 Irish coffees the next morning before me head stops trying to splinter around that damn Captain Green Beard’s knife buried in the noggin. Now if you’ve been flogged for some violation of the Pirate Code or getting initiated into the other part of sailor life by an old sea dog sodomite, a rum hangover will no doubt come as a relief to other pains and shames. But for a land bound, none whipped/molested gent or gal, why would you subject yourself to such an awful next morning reckoning?

And don’t get me even started about your rum ‘n Cokes /Cuba libres. Look, I love hamburgers, cornbread, baseball and Aerosmith, but Coke is the worst damn diabetic swill I’ve ever had the misfortune of being exposed to in my life and is a permanent blight upon America’s honor. If it weren’t for America’s saving performances in World War II, I’m not sure that any other American deed/product/production could make up for cursing the world at large with such an abomination. Coke is utter and complete hog bile and combining it with rum is like putting Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton as your two leads in a movie; I’d sooner make myself deaf, dumb and blind then watch those two “women” in anything, anytime, under any and all circumstances just as I’d rather go devote Buddhist then expose me poor mind, body and soul to another rum and Coke. Look, I know that one of the few other worthwhile Brits, Lemmy, likes to mix his libations with Coke, but, he’s Lemmy and the rest of us ain’t so don’t try imitating the Master.

So for my first 30 or so years whenever I was forced (i.e. given for free) to drink the Sailor’s Other Curse, I ended up ready to take my Dharma vows the next day and whenever Coke was involved, I seriously consider going Vegan (well, maybe not that seriously). I’ve hung out with Lemmy 6 times and because either rum or Coke was involved, I only remember ½ of one. It was pretty fockin’ great, but I’m pissed about the other 5 and a half times and since I think his barrister’s multi-jurisdictional restraining order is holding up under appeal, I don’t think there will be a 7th.

But then, I had an epiphany in, of all places, Arkansas. The why and how of how I ended up in the middle of the Ozarks shooting craps for ten thousand dollar stakes in a truck stop juke joint isn’t important; what is important is that I learned on this first and last trip to America’s redneck paradise that rum does have a proper use as I was exposed to Eggnog and Rum, or as I call it, God’s Plan (i.e. the Almighty in his infinite wisdom would never let something blessed such as alcohol go without a proper use). And, damn it all, if rum isn’t actually damn palatable, neigh good when it’s in the Nog. Of course, it’s nothing like some good Irish Nog with three fingers of Jameson’s in it, but it is very tasty. Plus you’re getting your monthly amount of dairy in a couple of drinks so it’s also a health drink. I helped myself to a bottle of Nog and rum at the beyond back woods truck dump and cleaned up at the craps game. And while I don’t think it’s safe for me to drive on I30/40 between Texarkana and West Memphis for another decade or three, I’ll always appreciate some fine if degenerate folks for showing me the light and redeeming Captain Jack Sparrow’s life blood. So if you must drink of the Seven Seas Sugar Spice, please try to have some Nog nearby to make your evening better and your morning suicide-free. 

From Mr. Whiskey, take care of yourselves and have a blessed 2014. When you’re all dealing with rum remember, Ge milis am fìon, tha e searbh ri dhìol
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