This article is a work of satire.

Rich & Rare is a drink of contradictions. It’s from Canada, where people are nice, but it makes you yell horrible things at people. It’s “rare,” but if you go to the liquor store, there’s a shit-ton of it. It’s “rich” and is only purchased by the apocalyptically poor.

The word “whiskey” derives from the Gaelic word for “water”: and the very fact that the Irish were willing to blur the distinction between “water” (the shit that, you know, composes like 80 percent of our bodies) and fucking whiskey   really illuminates why the English had an easier time conquering Ireland than a DG has getting gonorrhea. Sorry, Ireland: but you did everything but pour Cromwell a frothy Guinness when his ass rolled into Galway. And frankly your native drink did us bad last night.

Matt kind of took the etymology to heart, swallowing “water” as if at an Irish baptism gone horribly awry. His night can be summed up thusly:

Matt: Hello R&R.
R&R: Fuck you, Matt.
Matt: Hello bushes in front of a middle-aged shut-in woman’s home.
Bushes: We’ll always love you!

We would say that falling asleep outdoors is the calling card of an awful evening, but the fact is, the evening could’ve been amazing. Matt simply doesn’t know. He could’ve gotten blown by that Asian dude who used to play guitar in Smashing Pumpkins. Though he was, for the most part, surrounded by people all-too-willing to account for the horrible shit he did (like steal a bunch of oil-rich land from some dumb Texas yokels for a song), there was a pretty solid amount of time for which nobody could account: between leaving his own house and being discovered by his understandably bummed-out girlfriend on his bush-bed.

Matt would like to think that, if his night was a movie, it would be like “There Will Be Blood”: all whiskey drinking and mean-muggin’: but, to be honest, it was probably a lot more like Weekend at Bernie’s: people all trying to evoke some semblance of life from an utterly inert human body, while simultaneously sort of manipulating him.

What was Charlie doing while his friend was basically dying? Charlie was staring off into the middle-distance, seething, alone, turning on Mr. Blue Sky by ELO every 15 minutes, wishing it was louder. Top 10 night for Charlie.

Basically, Rich & Rare stole a solid portion of our lives, and handed it off silently to some noiseless demon shrouded in pillowy darkness. What did he do with the tithes we paid to him in tears and vomit? Bought a Cadillac made of a cocaine and platinum coins, probably.

Music to Listen to while Drinking Rich and Rare: Rush (Canadian) and Pogues (Irish) at the same time.

What to Drink with Rich and Rare: Diet, Safeway generic soda that you punched out the back window of a El Camino to obtain.

What to Eat with Rich and Rare: The promises you’ve made.

What activity to do with Rich and Rare: Teach your children to smoke as a means to suppress the hunger accompanying the potato famine.

Consumeability Formula: (As English majors, we have constructed a mathematical formula, to approximate the over-all quality of Rich & Rare as an item for consumption):

[ ( Drinkability out of Hundred / Price ) + ( (Alcohol Per Volume x Volume) / Price ) ] / Hours Hungover

So, filling in the numbers for Rich & Rare.

[ (55/$21.00) + ( (%40 x 1,750 ml) / $21.00) ] / 4 Hours Hilariously Hungover = 8.97 (Not out of ten).

1 DRAINAGE! (If you don’t get this, watch the god-damn movie).

2 There are some pictures on Facebook of Charlie trying to get Matt to put in his pin number at the Bank of America on Main Street.

3 Charlie’s life is not good.