Category Archives: WHISKEY

I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.” ― E.B. White, The Points Of My Compass


toasted the hangover
inevitable as sun
that used to rise
in your name

i toasted the carnivals
we never went to
and the things you never won
for me
the ferris wheels we never
kissed on and all the dreams
between us
that sat there
like balloons on a carney’s board
waiting to explode with passion
but slowly deflated
hung slave
under the pin-
prick of a tack

heads down
like lovers
when it doesn’t
work, like me
at last call
after too many cheap

too many sweet
too much
whisky makes me
sick, like the smell of cheap,

like the smell of
the dead

― Daphne Gottlieb, Final Girl

“I’ve been on the whisky diet – I’ve already lost three days!” –

British comic Tommy Cooper

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“whiskey makes the heart beat faster
but it sure doesn’t help the
mind and isn’t it funny how you can ache just
from the deadly drone of

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

“Whiskey and beer are all right in their place, but their place is in hell.”

—Billy Sunday

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“When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.”
― James Crumley, The Last Good Kiss

Logic, like whiskey, loses its beneficial effect when taken in too large quantities.

Lord Dunsany

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whiskey makes the heart beat faster
but it sure doesn’t help the
mind and isn’t it funny how you can ache just
from the deadly drone of

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

This was their third bar since Piccadilly and they were both agreed that the two of them were very drunk but had the capacity to get a good deal drunker yet.” ―

Kate Atkinson, Life After Life

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I’m on whiskey diet… I’ve lost three days already!

Whiskey don’t make liars it just makes fools.”

― James McMurtry

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King Whiskey’s father down in Hell,

He rubbed his hands with glee,

“My son on earth is doing well,

Extremely well,” said he;

“Pile up the logs upon the blaze

And let the furnace roar,

Another batch of Whiskey’s slaves

Is hammering at the door.”

The flames shot up a brilliant red,

The grid was white with heat,

A basting pot of boiling lead

Was placed on every seat.

“Ha, ha,” said Satan, “this is neat;

We have no cause to fear

That they’ll complain they did not meet

A warm reception here.”

King Whiskey sat upon his throne,

His courtiers standing round,

All meek, subservient in tone,

They bowed them to the ground.

In tribute then they handed up

Their stores of golden wealth,

And from the reeking poison cup

They drank King Whiskey’s health!

And out beyond the palace gates

The wives and mothers stand,

And, breathless, loudly curse the fates

That whiskey rules the land.

The courtiers dimly hear the cry,

But Whiskey dulls their ears,

“Fill up, let revelry run high,

We’ll drown these childish fears!”

And men there are in Whiskey’s land

Complaining times are bad

And money getting scarcer and

But little to be had;

And yet however bad is trade

And things however flat,

King Whiskey’s tribute must be paid,

They can’t go short of that!

King Whiskey’s courtiers soon grow old,

And tribute’s falling short,

The strength is gone, the blood is cold

The once clear mind distraught!

And demons, imps, and grinning apes.

And glaring reptiles yell,

And loathsome forms and fearsome shapes

All point the road to Hell!

But Whiskey’s court is bright and gay.

Nor do the ranks grow thin,

For as the old are borne away

The younger ones come in.

King Whiskey’s father down in Hell,

He rubs his hands with glee,

“My son on earth is doing well, Extremely well,” says he.

You think Yoda stops teaching, just because his student does not want to hear? A teacher Yoda is. Yoda teaches like drunkards drink, like killers kill.


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Ed McMahon

God invented whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world.


There were happy days, with watermelon, and sad days of whiskey.”

― Lewis Nordan

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How old do you think I am he said I said well I didn’t know
He said I turned sixty five about eleven months ago
I was sittin’ in Miami pourin’ blended whiskey down
When this old grey black gentleman was cleanin’ up the lounge
There wasn’t anyone around ‘cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironsides on TV
Uninvited he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Ever had a drink of watermelon wine he asked
He told me all about it though I didn’t answer back
Ain’t but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine
He said women think about theyselves when menfolk ain’t around
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you’re down
He said I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime
Now it’s old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
God bless little children while they’re still too young to hate
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
‘Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine
[ harmonica ]
I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
As I left for my room I saw him pickin’ up my change
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

I tell her all the time,’whiskey is risky and it makes girls frisky.”

― Laura Anderson Kurk, Glass Girl

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“As adults we try to relax from the never-ending quest for reason and order by drinking a little whiskey or smoking whatever works for us, but the wisdom isn’t in the whiskey or the smoke. The wisdom is in the moments when the madness slips away and we remember the basics.”

― Willie Nelson, The Tao of Willie: A Guide to the Happiness in Your Heart

I like whiskey. I always did, and that is why I never drink it.

– Robert E. Lee

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“Fight for us, O God, that we not drift numb and blind and foolish into vain and empty excitements. Life is too short, too precious, too painful to waste on worldly bubbles that burst. Heaven is too great, hell is too horrible, eternity is too long that we should putter around on the porch of eternity.”
― John Piper

there’s a bluebird in my heart that, wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there

Charles Bukowski

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“the psyche has been burned
and left us senseless,
the world has been darker than lights-out
in a closet full of hungry bats,
and the whiskey and wine entered our veins
when blood was too weak to carry on”

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last