This is the limited edition Maker's Mark John Calipari bottle. It will be released to the general public tomorrow at 9am. It is truly the work of the devil.
For those of you who don't follow sports, John Calipari is the head coach of the University of Kentucky men's basketball team. He just completed his first season in that capacity, so of course he totally deserves to be immortalized on a bottle of bourbon.
When I first saw this bottle I was pleasantly surprised: I thought Maker's was honoring Al Pacino's work in the Godfather trilogy. But then I read the "Calipari" part at the bottom, and I threw up for a solid hour. On the bright side, I can now fit into the shorts that were too small for me last summer.
Others, namely University of Kentucky fans, are extremely excited about this bottle. Outrageously, obsessively, ANNOYINGLY excited. Every five-point-two seconds, the phone at work rings, and a voice dripping with coal dust and moonshine screams "You gonna git that Calipari bottle?" It is a relentless army of people who won't/can't read the ten million press releases telling them the exact day and time of the bottle's release, but somehow have our phone number committed to memory.
I'm no proponent of stereotyping, and it would be truly unfair to suggest that all University of Kentucky fans are stump-stupid hill people, but I say without fear of contradiction that a fucking lot of them are, and this bottle is the best thing that has ever happened in their heartbreakingly empty lives. Even people at work who are UK fans are tired of talking to this lunatic fringe.
Tomorrow morning, before we open, people will line up outside of our store for the privilege of buying the bottle. These people don't work, it seems. A lot of them also live in dry counties, because they think alcohol not cloaked in UK blue is Satan's elixir, so they'll have to drive to a reasonable city. When we finally open the doors they'll stampede toward the bottles like Lindsay Lohan attacking a cock covered in cocaine.
I had hoped there would be frigid temperatures. And gale force winds. And a cold, stinging rain. And hail the size of medicine balls. And a plague of locusts. Unfortunately, the weather is supposed to be perfect, which proves the old saying "God protects fools."
I started playing the lottery a few weeks ago, hoping to strike it rich and purchase our entire allotment. I was going to stand in the middle of our parking lot and smash every single bottle, cackling maniacally as they shattered against the pavement. The corn-fed masses would be powerless to stop me, for my elite special forces security team would savagely beat anyone who'd even dare give me an awkward glance. I didn't win, of course, so the regularly scheduled tragedy goes on.
Note to people who don't live in Kentucky: This is NOT an April Fool's Day prank. There are actually grown adults who are going to get up early and wait in line for a bottle of whiskey.