Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Saturday, 10 April 2021

Hair A The Dawg...


Last week I broke out a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon. It was truly spectacular. No burn on the way down, just a spreading warmth and a mild finish. I can’t remember how much I paid for it... think I bought it three or four years ago. I shared a small flask with King Peter. I just don’t drink anymore. I’m not sure I miss it.


I am not a bourbon guy, preferring scotch for the most part. Maybe it’s time to change that?


  1. Change is not necessarily a bad thing. I like bourbon, but I'll drink a shot of scotch now and then.

  2. Bourbon, ah yes.

    I live in G-Town at the epicenter of the magic kingdom of Bourbondom. Right at the start of the Bourbon trail, with the greatest distilleries in existence thirty minutes to an hour away in any direction. From my back porch about a block away is the flag marking the location of Ft George, where legend has it firebrand pastor Elijah Craig first knelt down by the rocky banks of Royal Springs and turned cool clear Kentucky water into God's own drink, Bourbon!

    Everybody here drinks the stuff, half the restaurants here bottle it.

    Step out my back door and cut through the church yard of the oldest Episcopal Church in Kentucky next door to me, then turn right and about a block away is the Local Feed, a world class eatery for people who are not into prissy California-French Novelle food that is all presentation and no present. High cuisine for common folk. Enormous grass fed steaks that would make Fred Flinstone jealous, and giant thick battered pieces of heart stopping artery clogging southern fried chicken that would put your grandma to shame! All of it local grown, Feed to Seed, and washed down with as many varieties of bourbon as there are stars in the heavens!

    Local Feed even has 'Seed to Feed' events where they bring in Chefs from all over the country to collaborate on a full course meal on the banks of Royal Springs in the park behind me. Live Music, awesome food, great people and plenty of bourbon! Chef even breaks out his own 'Private Select' Royal Water 131 proof small batch just for the occasion, and if he likes you, you just might even get a snort! Me? Gave me a whole bottle, I guess I have that kind of face.

    So yeah I like bourbon, now. Though I never used to. Back in my youth it was whiskey.

    Whiskey is wild, nothing says I don't give a damn like whiskey. Once upon a time I was that guy your parents warned you about. Everyone up and down the American waterways knew me, or recognized me. I dressed head to toe in black, hand made black resitol pulled low over my eyes, looking for a fight. Not with everyone mind you, just the assholes. I got a rep in school as a bully beater, God I hated them. My old man was one of them. Sorry little shit that felt like the only way he could see himself in the mirror was by stepping on the broken bones of his wife and children.

    Took a long time to beat down the edges of my personality. Whiskey did not help at all. You can only wake up in a jail cell because you hurled a cash register through the window of St Anne's deli after someone got a bigger hamburger than you, or do your full on Rodney King impersonation for the L.efist A.lliance P.olice D.epartment because your best friend finally caught a bullet from a jealous boyfriend, before you begin to realize that these are not the activities of an individual that wants to make it to old age.

    So these days its just a little wine at dinner, maybe a malbec or riesling depending on whats on my plate. Maybe a Guinness, maybe a cold Heinkein after the the lawn is done.

    Whiskey? No thanks. But every now and then I do like the taste of Bourbon, simple, mellow bourbon. A toast to the ghosts in my head, a little taste of liquid silver to let werewolves know I'm still in the hunt.