I was taught that if you didn’t have anything nice to say, then you should not say anything at all.

Therefore, I will simply say…

Do not buy a bottle of J & B Rare Blended Scotch Whisky.

That is all.

What? You want more?

No, you don’t.

No, really, you don’t.

Trust me, I’ve said enough already.

No, I don’t want to talk about the nose, palate, and finish.

Because I don’t have anything nice to say, and if I describe the whisky – that is, truly describe it as I experienced it – I think it will scar your psyche. And if you are one of the folks out there who have consumed this stuff and found yourself to be quite fond of it, I fear that the offense will be great.

How great? Very great, and I value our friendship, which is why we should just bring this conversation to a close.

No, you can’t.

No. You can’t. You think you can handle it, but you can’t. It will hurt.

Yes, it will.

I’m telling you, it will.

You think so?

Are you sure?

Well, okay. Here’s what I thought.

Did you ever see that movie “The Rock”? No? Well, there’s a scene in that movie where the main character, Stanley Goodspeed, played by Nicholas Cage, is describing the effects of the VX nerve gas (known as “Sarin”) to John Mason, played by Sean Connery. Essentially, Goodspeed describes the event of inhalation as one resulting in faces melting off and innards erupting to become outards.

Technically, VX gas doesn’t really kill this way. The director, Michael Bay, decided to up the fear factor on the weapon to make the villainous threat a little more frightening. Now, don’t get me wrong. Sarin gas is deadly, and it kills quickly and brutally by way of horrid nervous system overloads, convulsions, and vomiting. It just doesn’t kill as it is described in the movie.

But J & B does.

The taste needs less imagery. I’d say it’s a lot like ethylene glycol, which is the chief chemical in antifreeze. It smells and tastes like melted sugar transfused with isopropyl alcohol.

The finish is only about three or four seconds of alcohol bite, which is good, because if it were, heaven forbid, nine or ten seconds long, chances are you’d still be alive as your guts spilled out onto the floor. I think most folks would prefer to have passed on by the time this happens.

And one more thing…

Hey, where you going?