Mr. Robin single-handedly sets back diplomatic relations with Canada by nearly 200 years...you'll thank him later.

Happy Monday morning everybody. As we find ourselves deeply immersed in the quagmire that generally makes up the holiday season, I want to remind all of you dedicated CCB readers of one thing. When you’re worrying about whether you should spend the $$$ to buy co-workers, distant relatives, friends, etc. a gift for Christmas, remember this.

Whatever else you do, buy me something, anything, I don’t care what it is.

Seriously, who else on your Christmas “buy” list is more deserving? Who brings you daily…well, nearly daily…okay, occasional entertainment?

Me, that’s who!

Who else can pick apart those things that you hold so dear in your heart and expose it like a pickled rat on a biology class dissection tray and/or hold it up to ridicule?

Me, that’s who!

So, remember, be sure to include Mr. Robin in your holiday gift list no matter what. I’m not picky - unlike your other gift recipients. While wholly expensive and inappropriate gifts are always appreciated. I’m happy with a box of chocolate-covered cherries or fruitcake.

Oh, yes…one more thing. If you receive a fruitcake and despise the stuff, please don’t leave it upon your pantry shelf to mold before throwing it out in July. Here at The Compound we have a horseshoe-shaped drive. Simply drive to the top of the horseshoe (use GPS if necessary) and toss the tin of fruitcake on the porch before driving away. No need to stop and watch the merriment on my face at receiving a holiday fruitcake or receive my profuse thanks for your consideration. Remember, this is a fortified Compound and I am one remarkably paranoid individual.

It’s okay to leave your name on the tin and I’ll thank you with a note or mention in the Blog…but, that’s as far as it goes. I really don’t like people.

Okay, so much for the gift pandering...let’s move along to more important stuff.

Friends, when you think holidays, what do you think about? Probably the three F’s – food, family, and friends. Am I right? You have cozy visions of family gathered around a table, everyone getting along: no kids whining about the texture of your boxed mashed potatoes; no dogs hiding under the table constantly sniffing your crotch for any food morsels you may have dropped there; no creepy Uncle Carl with his incessant “pull my finger” gag, nope…just your deluded Norman Rockwellian snapshot of what a family Christmas should be.  

And, you will kindly notice that I have left out the fourth F that so many of you include in your holiday thoughts…namely, that of Fireball. But, because I am an arbiter of good taste (as in the sense) and a protector of things held sacred (in this case, fine Tennessee sipping whiskey), I felt it my duty to banish the fourth F (you’ll thank me later).

Just in case you’re a Baptist (Badtists excluded), a minor, and or someone who doesn’t drink (I pity you) and are generally unaware, Fireball is a brand of Canadian whisky (note no e in whiskey – stupid Canadians can’t even spell it right) with the most subtle essence – oh, who am I kidding – the overpowering flavor of cinnamon oil.

Why anyone would want to drink flavored whiskEy is beyond me. But, I digress…

So it seems that the flavored whiskEy business is highly competitive. So much so that its makers feel the need to come up with new and different stunts and schemes to sell more. Do you think that woman from “That 70’s Show” actually drinks the Jim Beam flavored whiskey that she hawks on TV? Hell no! She’s there to make the average millennial think, “Gee, she looks familiar.” And, then before the average millennial realizes it, the commercial is over, but the product she was hawking is stuck in your head. It’s a conspiracy people, WAKE UP!

So, Canada’s answer is to roll out Fireball whiskEy in a BOX. No, I’m not kidding. I wish I were. They’re rolling it out (figure of speech given there’s no whiskEy barrels involved) in what they call the FireBOX. You know, like boxed wine, some of which, by the way, if you’re really picky, isn’t too bad. This will NEVER be the case with whiskEy.

Never.

WhiskEy does not belong in a Mylar balloon!

I will give the Canadians some credit though. At least they’re doing it with a sense of humor. Not only have they rolled out their new product in time for Christmas celebrations, but to ensure follow-on sales they’ve offered that you may want to keep a box around for The Trump’s inauguration.

The box will cost you roughly $40, which considering that each box holds 1.75 liters of (barf) flavored whiskEy, is a decent bargain. BUT IT’S STILL FLAVORED WHISKeY! Sabor de Mierda!

That is all!

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