Gut Rumbles

September 03, 2008

a bead

Originally PUBLISHED June 28, 2005

I was sorely insulted by a phone call I received from Catfish last night. His cousin, Luther, came over and examined a jar of my moonshine. Luther, who has been known to run off a few batches of his own, pronounced my stuff "no good," because it wouldn't hold a bead.

Fuck Luther. I told Cat when we were making the stuff that I wasn't going to take the time to adjust my concoction to achieve a perfect bead. What came out of the worm went straight into a jar and that's what you got. The beginning and ending of the run produced weaker liquor than the middle of the run did, but it all turned out pretty good.

It's clear as branch-water, and you can't make it freeze. I'll admit that when you shake a jar, you get a lot of tiny bubbles instead of a glowing, perfect bead. It's OVER-PROOF, which isn't really bad for home-made brandy. So, when some red-necked asshole such as Luther declares MY moonshine "no good" because it doesn't hold a bead, I call bullshit.

Drink half a jar, motherfucker. See if you can still find your ass with both hands.

If I wanted a bead, I could have watered and adjusted the stuff to get one. But I decided NOT to worry about that process. Every jar I made is unique. You won't go blind or fall into a coma from drinking it, either. (Well... you probably COULD work up a good coma if you drank enough of it.) It's genuine, home-made, once-rectified elixer, fit to fill to goblets of the Gods.

Luther can kiss my Cracker ass.

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