This? Why this my friends is the way professionals (see: US) get it done.

Of course, try this at your own risk. We’re certainly not responsible if you get busted by the po-po for using this to sip on some syzzurp at your local Wal-Mart, or cut your fingers while making this genius ruse.

via:: Days That End in Y

There is something to be said for drinking straight alcohol. Not mixed, not diluted, just poured in a glass –maybe over ice– and drank the way God intended. STRAIGHT UP. Your father never drank anything called an “appletini”, and he damn sure didn’t raise you that way. Did you know that 40-50 years ago, 80% of all alcohol sales were whiskey? ALL sales of alcohol, kicking vodka and rum and beer straight in the plums (By the way, I wish I remembered the source I have on that, but…surprise surprise, I was soused and can’t find the link. Most likely The Modern Drunkard, but I can’t be sure). Either way, you can be damn sure that your Grandfather wasn’t sipping on a Purple Hooter when he met your Grandmother, and your father didn’t sneak sips of Razzmatazz Berrysplash out of his father’s stash before refilling the bottles with water. Chances are, your Grandfather doesn’t even know what a blueberry is, and your pops still has a hard time trusting them in anything other than pancakes. They still make him feel a little….well, funny.

I say all that to say this: I appreciate Canadian Club’s current marketing campaign, known generally as “Damn Right Your Dad Drank It”. They’re selling whiskey the right way, by showing you that it was not just a drink, but the drink of the time. It was what your Dad drank when he was your age, unmuddled by all the garbage mixes and additives we have today. That man who created you didn’t play around, he drank, and he drank the pure, the straight up, the stuff. And guess what? He had quite a bit of fun and lived his life to the fullest because of it.

So in this holiday season, after all the presents have been opened and the turkey has been devoured and the womenfolk have gone to bed, pour a glass for you and your old man. Doesn’t matter what it is, but take that time to share a quality drink with the (theoretically) quality man who put you on this earth. You don’t have to talk, don’t have to have the best relationship…but you should take the time to sit and share a drink with the man who put you where you are today. Get to know him. At least spend the time drinking one drink with the man, if only to understand the world he grew up in, and the time he’s spent on this earth. If nothing else, he probably knows how to drink better than you do, and it’s worth it to learn a thing or two about this life.

Ahhh…the 40 oz. Nature’s perfect vehicle for the malt beverage. The only problem with drinking a 40 is that unless you’re playing Edward Fortyhands, about 3/4ths of the way in, that 40 is going to be warm and kinda nasty. Not to fear…Urban Outfitters has heard the cry of millions and has brought us the 40 oz. Cozy (I say coozie, but whatever).

via:: Uncrate

In keeping with the last post’s beer pong theme, here’s a video of some seemingly impossible feats of beerpongery.

Once again the World Series of Beer Pong is upon us, and we’d be remiss not to mention the biggest event in competitive drinking since Hemmingway played as number 16 on the Idaho Inebriates. Stalwart competitors from across this great country gather every year in the world capital of alcoholism-denial and shotgun weddings/divorces/30-minute hooker interludes…a.k.a. Las Vegas Nevada (”Where dreams go to die!”) to toss balls and guzzle mass-produced American beers until they keel over in a drunken stupor, or (the much less-likely prospect) arise in the sweaty victory that only a blessed few reach in a lifetime (holy shit that was a long sentence). A surprising $50,000 (who knew drunks had that much spare cash?) goes to the victors, presumably to spend on more booze.

A quick read through the official rules illuminates a veritable treasure trove of heretofore undiscovered hilarity…to wit, “The Dipshit Rule”, which plainly states (we’re not making this up) “If TEAM1 knocks over one of it’s own cups, that dipshit’s team (TEAM1) loses that cup(s). However, if the other team (TEAM2) also contains dipshits not paying attention that do not catch the first team of dipshits (TEAM1) knocking over their cup, then TEAM1 may keep that cup.” Good to know. There are five more pages of this hops-and-barley-fueled genius available in the Official Rules, if you are so inclined.

So if you aren’t able to make it out there this January 1-5th to join in the fracas, the least you can do is host a game at your home to entertain the local savages…or if state law doesn’t permit such a flagrant display of debauchery, you can at the very least play online and pretend the ball in your hand isn’t just a figment of your gin-soaked brain. But seriously…take your shot already….just watch your elbow….. and when you’re done, for crying out loud RE-RACK!