The Post Where I Thank Scotland

I hate to do this but I’m going to anyway. I’m going to quote a Will Farrell movie. “I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly…” Thank you, Scotland. Thank you for discovering that right mixture of fermented malt and burnt peat moss. Thank you for having nothing better in your country than peat bogs and fields of grain. Because you invented Scotch whiskey, I can forgive your invention of golf. I still don’t quite get that game.

I mean, the courses are very beautiful. St. Andrews is absolutely gorgeous. Still, I’d rather just walk around the course than actually take a fancy stick and hit a weird little ball into sandboxes all day. Why not have picnics? With Scotch.

So, Scotland, thank you. Thank you for single-malt Scotch whiskey. Thank you for tartan plaid. I especially like the Black Watch’s tartan. Hunter green and midnight blue. Och, it’s quite pretty, laddy boy. Thank you for Scotch, which has mitigated my rage and calmed me down. I’ve had quite a bit already. I’m going to have more. I need it. I deserve it. I want it. I’m entitled to it.

So thank you, Scotland. You are a nation of kings (well, kings of distillation). Cheers to you.

And to the parts of the world that have done nothing to aid in the development of whiskey (or whisky)

GO TO HELL!

America, Canada, Ireland, Scotland… I love you. Everyone else can rot.