South Lyndale got in a bunch of bottles of this stuff and they were touting that it was a "Very Small Batch" especially bottled for the store. Had to be a good buy. "Movin' on Up" starts playing in my head and I flash back to my childhood sitting in front of this enormous wooden console television. I start to fantasize about sitting Weezy down on that couch in the deluxe apartment and enjoying a few dozen drinks. I also started to wonder why a stupid silhouette of Thomas Jefferson was on the fuckin' bottle instead of George Jefferson. That would have sealed the deal for me right there. Instant purchase. Instead I asked for a taste at the store. They hooked me up and I took some of my hard earned dry cleaning money and dropped the 25 bucks on the counter for a bottle. I was feeling pretty dapper about the the purchase.
The next day I poured one from the bottle I bought...
Instead of George Jefferson, I get Mr Furley. An entirely different television program. Mr. Furley is pretty rad and all, but the thing with Furley is that he had the wool pulled over his eyes for YEARS. Jack Tripper was a little odd, but the thing he wasn't was a homosexual. If I got a bottle of Jack Tripper I would have at least known what I was getting into. Rooming with 2 hot babes, going out on dates all the time and being a kick ass chef! Pretty much an ideal situation. Have you ever known Jack to not be on the top of his game either? An O.G. player.
His scam was cheap rent spit three ways and trying to talk his roomies into a three way. Righteous...
If I got bottle of Chrissy, I'd know that although I make goofy faces, and am a ditzy clutz...
underneath it all I'm pretty smoking hot, have an amazing sense of humor and can
still be pretty damn entertaining when I need to. A good pour Chrissy would be.
And did anyone really like Janet? I never understood the appeal. Sure she wore hot pants once in awhile, but she'd usually go and pull something like this...
Why did Mrs. Roper wear those Moo Moos? She probably had it in her head that it's all just easy access for Stanley to lift off and get going, but all I can think about is Kool Aid man rolling through a brick wall.
No wonder this woman never got laid. When she did, I can guarantee you that Stanley was probably drinking Jefferson's. A huge headache and a shitty bourbon that has nothing to offer than a short age and acetone taste is the perfect solution for a horny Mrs. Roper.
So if you're considering a cheap alternative to something that you normally buy and actually enjoy, go with your usual bottle and skip the Jefferson's. However, if you're looking for a bourbon to pacify a honey of a moo mooed up wife whose main goal in life is getting some sweet Stanley, pick up a Jefferson's and live in misery.
Taste: Oak notes, with acetone finish. A nice headache the next day
Purchase Again: No