The Boosh

Well, friends, I heard there was a rumor I was dead. And in some ways that rumor was right. I was dead to writing anyway. Not dead to life or to whiskey or to myself. But dead to writing. I don't know if I will write again about whiskey. I...

Daniel was in San Antonio last week. The Preacher and me, we met up with him at the Esquire, which is this famous bar downtown that all the fancy people go to. The bar itself is about twenty yards long and has a stuffed coyote down at the end...

Well shit. It's Friday night and I'm sitting here with a glass of Redemption Rye, which I know isn't all that fancy but I love it and that's all that matters, goddamit. It's a comfort whiskey for me. I wrote about it once before. So it's been awhile since I...

I don’t know how many people read this whiskey blog. I know I have a tribe of whiskey loving friends online that stop by sometimes. Thank you brothers and sisters of the tribe for that! But beyond that I got no fuckin’ idea. I might be shouting my barbaric...

I got an email from a distillery in Scotland. Some Scottish fella who was amused by the coarse way I used to write about Irish whiskey back before I repented of my heathenish ways and got saved by a ham-fisted Irish Texan named Seamus in a bar here in...

Well got damn, I learned something new recently. I've been wrong in that I ASSUMED Daniel lived in the tower. I mean, if you had a fancy wizard tower full of whiskey, wouldn't you live in that fucker? Hells yes you would. I would too. So I had a little run...

San Antonio 2004 I think it was May of that year. Might have been June. He was the strangest goddam preacher there ever was. I’m serious now. Never was one like him before and I don’t there ever will be again. Word got around that he cussed like a sailor, and...

I want to tell you about my buddy Reggie. Let’s see; how can I put this? Reggie is the clumsiest, most accident prone, stumbling, bumbling, inept, two left footed, bull-in-a-china-closet human being ever to walk this blessed earth. So help me God I do not fucking exaggerate. I once saw this...

Wednesday in the late morning someone left a bottle of Monkey Shoulder on my front porch. One third full. No note. No explanation. As of yet I have no fucking clue who it was. I posted a panicked burst of paranoid insanity on the Whiskey Tribe Facebook group and promptly...

Well shite, that didn't take long. I told you last week I wanted to learn to appreciate Irish whiskey in 2018. It's official. I'm now a fan. Oh Ireland, ye blessed emerald isle, I love you. I love your flag, your wee people, your little pubs tucked into the corners of...