May 03, 2005
Some of the comments on my post about Southern Comfort mentioned Yukon Jack, too. I've never tasted Yukon Jack, but I'm pretty sure that it must be a lot like Southern Comfort. You know... one of them sneaky liquors that will ambush you if you're not careful, stab you in the belly and peel the scalp right off your head, leaving you feeling like a dead carcass the next day.
The subject of Yukon Jack came up at the Georgia Writer's Conference. That was one of the few libations we didn't have stocked at the bar in my room. Jim, of parkway rest stop mentioned that he likes to drink at his local VFW bar and some of the regulars in there suck Yukon Jack like mama's milk from a warm titty.
They do that for a couple of hours and develop "The Stare."
Jim described it perfectly. The Stare happens when someone is completely shit-faced but doesn't realize it yet. The eyeballs no longer focus and peripheal vision shrinks to the size of a pin-prick. If you try to talk to them, you become distracted by two things.
First, they seem to be winking at you as they try to figure out if closing one eye makes them see any better. Second, they finally give up on the monocular vision idea and just STARE, with both eyes open and both eyes resembling fresh oysters on the half-shell.
I've seen that stare before. Hell, I've HAD IT MYSELF, just not from Yukon Jack. We had several people develop the stare at the blog-meet late at night. For once in my life, I wasn't one of them.
But you've seen "The Stare," haven't you?
i laughed so hard i cried at this post...i have never really conceptualized the stare, but boy have i done it.
Yup. Me, too. And Yukon Jack was the culprit.
The guys on my website have "the stare".
Often times I close one eye in hopes of eliminating the double vision thing...and all it does is whittle the shit I see down to TWO of each instead of FOUR of each....man I hate when that happens..
Here's a fun recipe ... Mix Yukon Jack half-and-half with Peppermint Schnaps (Yukon Jack also makes a Schnaps, but any brand will work) ... we call in the "JACKHAMMER", and take a flask with us when we go skiing in the mountains. Loosens up the knees.
Remember to take 4 aspirins before bedtime and don't bother calling me in the morning.
The only similarity between the two is sweetness, I think. Yukon Jack has a much higher proof. I like to sneak a half pint into the theatre. Mixed with a small Coke, it will numb your lips and put a smile on yer face.
I used to date a chick that would START our date by running us into the bar, having us knock back three old fashioned glasses apiece of Yukon, and THEN we'd go out and party. More often than not, the evenings ended with some sort of bloodshed and mayhem.
High maintenance, but she was worth it.
My first real drunk, where I passed out, I was like 14 or 15, and drinking Southern Comfort mixed with some Boone's Farm pink frothy stuff. I was deathly ill for three days, and it was only this year that I was able to bring myself to taste it again, and only because some young Marines passed me the bottle. My stomach did a slow roll down memory lane, then settled down. Not bad stuff, if yer in the mood.
When my grandpa died, I asked my uncle Randy what Grandpa liked to drink. Yukon Jack was his deer and fish camp beverage of choice, so we went and bought a bottle and passed it around. Everybody there got there turn to tell their favorite Grandpa Manning story.
No regrets at all.
Speaking as one who as done the "Stare," Yukon J is nothing to trifle with. Leave it to us professionals.
Bane, that's LOL! The first time I got seriously shitfaced as a teen was when I finished a fifth of Southern Comfort by myself at a poker party. I think I added a beer or two into the mix somewhere (big mistake).
I was horribly, deathly hung over until about 5 PM the next evening...
Oy. And likewise, I can barely drink Southern Comfort now, some twenty-five years later.
I've got a fantastic picture of Moogie doing "The Stare" on Saturday night at the Jekyll fest.
Over 25 years ago, at my brother's wedding (me, unfortunately being the best man as everyone in this hard-ass Russian-Polish wedding wanted to drink with the best man -and if I refused I was politely invited "outside") all I remember at the end of the night was drinking beer with Southern Comfort and blackberry brandy chasers whilst trying to grab the tits of a 60 year-old grandma (not my most illustrious moment). There is a saying that people are lucky that God doesn't listen to sincere prayers -the next day I woke up still drunk and prayed the most sincere prayer I ever prayed for God to kill me. To this day, just the smell of Southern Comfort makes me want to throw up.