Is it me, or are people getting weirder by the minute?

To be clear, I don’t mean the obviously weird stuff. There will always be someone ready to defend the Flat Earth theory. There’s always going to be that guy who indulges in a strange fetish each day after work—like taking a bath with his goldfish. There’s always going to be that one relative at the family reunion telling prison stories to the children.

I’m talking about the subtle, but seemingly oblivious, weirdnesses. I’m referring to the unknown woman who sat so close to me on an empty bench that we were nearly touching. I’m talking about the man at the grocery store arguing with a store manager near the self-checkout kiosk. Having removed a can of Coca-Cola from a 24-pack, he just couldn’t seem to figure out why the machine was charging him so much. I’m thinking of the man in the bathroom watching a TV show episode on his phone and laughing as a line forms just beyond the stall’s door.

Coco Chanel once said, “In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.” I get that. There’s only one of you. And you have irreplaceable value. But is it because you’re a living human being and life has innate value, or is it because you insist upon being standing apart as uniquely different? It seems we live in a time when life is devalued while disjointed weirdness is heralded. This meme and that advertisement foster superficial individuality, the kind that breaks from community, making it so that, ultimately, our society cannot function for the betterment of all.

But here’s something to keep in mind: we’re all unique individuals, just like everybody else. Get it? Sometimes, being similar is far better than laboring to amplify one’s distinction. There’s broader certainty in our similarities, and certainty is comforting. Truth be told, that’s one reason why I appreciate Rabbit Hole whiskeys. Each is unique. And yet, none are weird. Each serves a distinctive role in a community of consistency, and the resultant familiarity stirs levels of enjoyment unattainable to the minute-by-minute replaceability of today’s weirdness.

The Dareringer edition finished in sherry casks exemplifies my premise. One sip is enough to reveal its Rabbit Hole origins. Another sip, carefully examined, sees into the community and discovers the individual’s valuable role.

With a crisp nose of sherry, almonds, and raisins, a gentle swirling offers delightful warmth while coating the glass in thick, syrupy auburn. The first sip reveals familiar oak char and cherries. The second is alight with spicy licorice and the nose’s almonds. The whiskey’s finish teeters between medium and long, all the while maintaining its traditional bourbon undertow.

Indeed, the types of behaviors I previously described appear to be on the rise. Unfortunately, with the increasing level of self-centered obliviousness comes an increase in pushback from both man and nature. I, for one, refused to move away from or acknowledge the woman who sat beside me. At the grocery store, I decided to step in behind the man arguing with the manager, cancel his order, scan and purchase my cereal and ice cream, and depart. I also chose to find another public bathroom, electing instead to wet a sizeable wad of paper towels and toss them over the stall’s door in a sploosh before leaving.

In other circumstances, nature is far less accommodating. Just ask the permanently disabled folks rolling around among us who thought taking a selfie with a wild bison was a good idea. The beast revealed the boundaries of their weirdness, reminding the rest of us why it’s better to remain among the much larger community of distant bystanders.