A drinking man
I’ve been keeping score: Vanilla Coke sucks, Pepsi Blue is even worse, but Dr Pepper Red Fusion is pretty good.
Vanilla Pepsi is surprisingly okay. It kind of tastes like a sweeter, if one could imagine, version of regular Pepsi. There is actually a vanilla flavor to it, and, unlike the citrus flavor inherent in Coke, Pepsi’s flavor complements the vanilla.
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I’ve read that they’re going to make a Lime Coke. I like this idea. I love lime. It’ll certainly make a good ingredient in a Cuba Libre. However, if the lime is only added to Diet Coke, like the lemon flavor, I’ll never try it. I don’t ever drink diet sodas.
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On the subject of things I don’t drink, I tried Sam Adams Light, which tastes a lot like Becks, with a bit of that oak-y flavor that is a trademark of Sam Adams Lager. It isn’t something that I would ever order by itself (it was included in the Winter Classic 12 pack, which has a variety of brews), but it’s not evil-incarnate as I thought it might be. One thing I noted was the Sam Adams Light is 120 calories, which is more than the standard 90 or so of most light beers. It’s thirty calories of flavor, for sure, since most light beer tastes like the can that it came in.
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Back to soda, Dr Pepper Red Fusion is getting harder to come by, but when it first came out, I thought it would make a good mix with rum, because it was very sweet and very fruity. So for Halloween, I bought a few bottles of Red Fusion and a couple bottles of rum and made up a drink called Redrum. It’s very easy to make: Cup of ice, 1 part rum to 5 parts Red Fusion. In a 16oz cup, that tends to be about 12oz of Red Fusion with 2oz of rum. It’s a very easy drink, as in people who don’t like to taste alcohol in their alcoholic drinks will like this, but the combination of high caffeine from the soda and the intoxicating effects of the rum make it a drink that is dangerous. You can drink 3 or 4 without feeling a thing, and then, WHAM! you’re slurring and generally making an ass out of yourself. Good times.
Coconut rum and spiced rum give nice overtones to Redrum. With coconut rum, you have a Redrum Tunococ, and spiced rum is a Redrum Decips. I haven’t tried it, but I suspect you can make a Redrum with regular Dr Pepper and maybe an ounce of Grenidene.
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So what’s a Cuba Libre? Well, it’s a Rum and Coke, but with a slice of lime instead of lemon. And it isn’t a drink I made up. It surprises me how few people, including bartenders, have heard of a Cuba Libre. I tend to tell people that Cuba Libres are made with Pepsi, instead of Coke, because it tastes better, and in this way it becomes more of a revolutionary drink, going against the bourgeoisie, Capitalist-Imperialist Coca-cola Corporation. Or something.
Posted by Jonathan at 01:22 PM, 31 January 2004 | Comments (0)
Enough comedy... jokes!
It’s been quiet on my blog for a while, so I’ll fill in some space with my favorite jokes, and you can decide whether or not I am worth reading again in the future, or, if you know me personally, whether or not you actually want to speak to me again.
I like jokes that set the listener up for something and then fail to deliver. My favorite:
What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?
A stick.
How easy is that? It’s not necessarily laugh out-loud funny, but I like the set up and ease of delivery. In the same vein:
Why don’t cannibals eat clowns?
They taste funny.
And a light-bulb joke I learned from Cheers:
How many Surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?
Fish.
Oh, so dry. They’re all fine examples of the ironic, post-modern wit that I find myself drawn to. I understand if they’re not your cup of tea.
Don’t get me wrong. With the exception of not finding flatulence jokes funny, I find humor in most dumb comedies. Whenever I see Will Ferrell, I begin to snicker. His very presence is enough to get me to start laughing. I laugh at pratfalls and broad humor, but twists and failed expectations are bits that I relish. I may not laugh out loud at them, but I feel satisfied being in on the joke. Of course, I think, a stick! They taste funny! Fish! It all makes sense in a devious way, but we were set up for something different.
Which leads me to my all time favorite joke, the White Elephant. There are a lot of variations to this one, but this is how I first heard it (from my father, no less). By the way, before you read, there are no white elephants in this particular version, but it is still a White Elephant joke:
A son graduates from high school as a Valedictorian of his class. His father is extremely proud of him, and offers to get him a graduation gift that he’ll never forget.
The father says, “Son, you were Valedictorian, you were top in track, and you’ve earned a four-year scholarship to Yale. I am so proud. What can I get you for your graduation? A car? Top of the line computer system? What? Anything you want.”
The son considers this for a bit, and says, “Dad. Thank you. What I really want is a truck full of ping pong balls.”
“What?” the father asks.
“Yeah, Dad. You said anything. And what I want is a truck full of ping pong balls.”
The father doesn’t know what to make of this, but a promise is a promise, so he gets his son a truck full of ping pong balls. Four years later, the son is graduating Magna cum Laude at Yale and has signed up for Harvard Medical School. Again, his father couldn’t be more proud, and tells his son, “Son, I want to get you anything you want. New car. Down payment on a new house. A boat. Anything. What do you want?”
“Well, Dad. I’ve been thinking about this, and I want a truck full of ping pong balls.”
“Again?” his father screams. “What do you...? Okay. Okay. I said anything you want, and you want a truck full of ping pong balls again. Why mess with success?” So the father gets him another truck full of ping pong balls.
The son does his internship at a very prestigious hospital and opens his new practice. He serves his patience with care and quality. He becomes an asset to his neighborhood and is written about in the local paper. His father beams with pride whenever he talks about his hard-working, compassionate son. Again, the father offers to buy his son anything he wants, this time for his thirtieth birthday. When his son asks him once again to buy him a truck full of ping pong balls, the father sighs, but makes no complaints.
One day, the father and son are out walking around his son’s quiet suburban neighborhood when they hear the screech of a car braking right behind them. In a split second, the out-of-control car hops the curb and hits the son, hurtling him thirty feet in the air. The father, unscratched, rushes to his son’s side, and can tell he is very injured. The son is bleeding from his mouth and is pale and shivering. “Dad,” he says weakly, “I’m sorry.”
The father has tears streaming down his face. “Hang on, son. Hang on. Help is on the way,” he says.
“No, Dad. I’m not going to make it.”
Weird thoughts pop up in times of stress, and the father can’t think of anything else right now but one question. “Son, I don’t know why, but I have to ask you. What was with those trucks full of ping pong balls?”
The son smiles weakly and says, “It’s okay, Dad. I’ll tell you. The ping pong balls were for... urk!” And his tongue rolls out, his eyes cross, and he dies.
And that, my friends, is my favorite joke of all time.
Posted by Jonathan at 05:50 AM, 30 January 2004 | Comments (2)
