Day 5: The Empty Bottle

Do you ever get into that mood when you're relaxing at home and once the clock strikes that magical number you've designated as "drinking time" (as if drinking before that time would signify you might have a drinking problem) - so you get your alcohol of choice out...and you know in a few minutes you will be easin' on into your "happy place" -- so you start pouring and there's about seven drops left in the bottle?

 

Well, this blog isn't about that time.

 

It's about marketing genius.

 

And, because my time is limited (there are other blogs to read, after all) I'll stick to a couple of my favourite things:  alcohol and cussing.

 

Now, the art of using a nasty word in your brand name is nothing new...I'm sure that's how "Spencer Gifts" got started in their niche market in the mall, selling anything remotely vulgar or remotely vulgar sounding.  Does "Spencer Gifts" even still exist?  Oh, who cares.

 

As far as alcohol goes, "Fat Bastard" wine comes to mind...but I've never tried any.  It seems to have been named with the full intention of sticking lousy wine in a bottle and naming it something, hoping that people would buy a bottle to share with other equally silly friends...who snicker at the mere mention of a naughty word on the label.  Do wine people really do this? 

 

I haven't a clue.  But a vodka company undoubtedly tried to capitalize on their name...with titillating ads such as this:

 

 

...and this: 

 

...and even this:

 

 

So you're probably asking yourself, "What kind of stupid idiot buys a bottle of vodka based purely on its crude-sounding name?"

 

 

 

Ummm...I have no effen clue.





Now go on over to "We Work for Cheese" to read all the other fantastic writers doing their take on today's prompt, "The Empty Bottle"...I am sure they put a better spin on theirs than I did mine.

 

Halloween's True Origin

The real reason we "dress up" for Halloween has nothing to do with druids or spirits or even commercialism. The real reason was started by Reginald Wickingham from Hounslow, London in England. 

Mr. Wickingham you see, was a purveyor of the spirital sort...which meant that he sold alcohol. He routinely consumed more than he sold, or so the legend of the town says. One day, upon hearing his door being pounded on...he rose up from the floor and staggered over to the door in nothing more than the first thing he could grab to put on. It was Mrs. Wickingham's dressing gown. The Vicar had come 'round to tell him that his wife had been taken ill and was at the local parish church being tended to by some members of the congregation...but that she was inconsolable and insisted the Vicar get her husband at once. Naturally, a couple others accompanied him in case Mr. Wickingham was overcome by grief upon hearing of his wife's grave condition. 

Mr. Wickingham, not wanting to seem drunk at noon on a Sunday...and realizing in his half-haze that he was now standing at the doorway in his wife's frilly thing...offered his "guests" some fruit and a couple of chocolates which were sitting on the table next to the door. He then stated his elaborate get-up was a "fun new fad" that was all the rage in the colonies...a yearly event where people got dressed up and handed fruits and candied bits of orange rind and the occasional chocolate to people who went from door to door...in a gleeful state brought upon by the occasional imbibing of a glass of mulled wine or a flagon of beer. 

Neither the Vicar nor the two people accompanying him wanted to look foolish...Mr. Wickingham was also a great wealthy man of some stature who travelled extensively around the globe...so they all nodded their heads in approval stating that they, too, had heard of the new fad...but were unaware that it was held on that certain day...thinking that it was going to be held the next day, which just so happened to be the 31st of October. 

They all had a laugh until it dawned on them that poor Mrs. Wickingham was lying prone on a pew in the church and needed to be attended to immediately. Mr. Wickingham, not wanting to be made a mockery of...donned an overcoat and top hat and threw it on top of the dressing gown...making it seem even more plausible to the Vicar and the members of the congregation upon their arrival back. 

As for Mrs. Wickingham, she had passed away...but it was all for the best as she really was disliked by everyone. And after the funeral, the next evening, they all got dressed up and celebrated...therefore cementing the ritualistic dress-up in the town, which, of course, over the years, ended up spreading far and wide. The fact that this day happened to occur on "All Hallow's Eve" was just a fortunate coincidence...and easy for everyone to remember it by. Well, everyone except poor Mrs. Wickingham, that is.

(This was another in my silly series of Halloween-themed "facts"...in other words, this was made up by me.)

A Great Photo Op...or a Photo Oops?

Just how much does it cost for a night on the town?

Well, not just any night on the town...a hypothetical night on the town as seen through the eyes of someone (me) who doesn't typically see things the way others do...but perhaps a few of you out there have been wondering the same as me. It IS, after all, inevitable.

A little set-up of sorts first:

1. I am old.

2. I love Monty Python.

3. I tend to think outside the box, i.e., not "normally".

4. I'm cynical and sarcastic and sometimes, with the right combination of legal substances, I also am given to flights of fancy that (at least to myself) I am somewhat witty.

Now the gist of what this is about:

Take anyone who reads the online version of their local community paper and give them...oh...a half hour or so...just perusing the site and reading things and looking around. You know -- the normal things.

Normally, this "normal" person will read a few articles, perhaps comment on a few things, perhaps agree with some content and disagree with one thing or another.

But not me.

I've been waiting and waiting for the inevitable. Some might say "Waiting for the other shoe to drop." Others might prefer "Waiting for the $#!^a to hit the fan." Me? Eh...I'm an observer. I'm just waiting around for the lawsuits.

Included in the Gannett online sites are photos of people taken around town...usually at night, and usually these people are in direct proximity to alcoholic beverages.

It has been my experience that alcohol, in small quantities, gives one a slight euphoric feeling; pleasant and a tad giddy. Alcohol in moderate quantities gives you a "devil may care" type of attitude. It's not quite cockiness but it's past the part where some innocent inhibitions start rearing their ugly heads. This is usually where ideas of "singing Karaoke" and shouting "I love you, man!" to everyone at the bar become a really good idea.

Then there is alcohol in more than moderate quantities...but before you get to the spinning, vomiting, and passing out part. Therein lies the "I am immortal" stage. Nothing can hurt you - you are immune. You don't care what you do and what others do and what others see you do.

Enter someone with a camera or cell phone.

And enter you...or more importantly, you with someone who just might not be who you've been routinely photographed with at family gatherings. Someone who you just might not want to bring over to meet Mom. And certainly not someone you'd like to introduce to your Mother-in-law.

Get what I'm saying yet?

For those of you out there who like to be forewarned...there's a naked butt in this video. Twice, I think.

The Monty Python "Blackmail" skit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDAFrW_vNNQ

"Aha! Right?" Now you see what my little brain thinks when given things to think about...like how expensive a night on the town might actually be for some people.

Again, for those of you out there who like to be forewarned...ANYONE with a Gannett account can post those photos of you at the local hotspot...possibly getting all hot and heavy with someone you just might not want...in the picture...at all.

Suddenly your local community has gotten a whole lot smaller and much more intimate.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh...and smile! You'll look good in the online paper...and in that stack of papers your spouse's attorney has in court.

Hooters' Hole

Sobriety checks, red light cameras, and designated drivers. They are all deterrents to driving drunk...but I think I've found something MUCH better.

Behold, the "Hooters' Hole":

A few of these strategically placed things around Montgomery and it will be like a worm on a hook, a bit of cheese in a mousetrap, or a moth to a flame.

Those of you who have seen it in the daytime pulling out of the Twin Oaks Shopping Center (aka the Hooters/TJMaxx/Fresh Market) parking lot might have had to swerve a bit or drive into the oncoming lane when making a right turn. Those of you who are unfamiliar that it's there...especially at nite...well, good luck to you. It's a force to be reckoned...or at least negotiated around...with.

Then it got me thinking, "Just how many people, perhaps a little over the .08 legal limit, have gotten behind the wheel of their car only to find themselves calling for a tow truck?" Hey, I've clipped that thing with my back right wheel in the daytime with no alcohol in me - and I know it's there! Imagine being a little impaired in the dark...and you've got the perfect DUI trap.

So, I called up Hooters tonite (Sunday) and spoke with the manager (who was extremely nice and tolerated my line of wacky questioning) to ask her if she knew of anyone who stomped back inside after getting swallowed up by the hole. You can't really tell by the photo - but that thing's gotta have a three foot sudden drop-off...and it's not confined to only being IN the parking lot. The perimeter of this baby is huge...slowly swallowing up the street...kinda like some alien blob. In fact, the manager herself said she damaged the underside of her car the other day turning a bit too sharply. I disagree. You don't HAVE to turn sharply to end up in this hole...all you have to do is turn into your lane...the sheer placement of the thing will do the rest. As I said earlier, you basically have to drive into the oncoming lane in order to avoid that thing - especially if you have a long car...or a van like I do.

While she didn't know of anyone who got stuck or drove into this hole, it could just be they managed to get out of it before the police showed up. Face it, if you damage your car driving into a hole on the side of the street leaving a bar after you've had a couple drinks...you just might not want to alert the authorities or have them alerted by some tow truck's flashing lights. You're going to make as little a scene as possible.

And speaking of scenes...this scary thing has been on the scene being seen by me for years. What is up with the county not doing something about it? Does someone have to get badly injured before anyone takes the initiative to come out there and fix the thing? There's a couple more mini-holes growing each day in that same parking lot that will soon progress to "wok hole" status (it's too large to be classified as a plain old pot hole) if they aren't attended to in the near future.

So, to borrow and tweak Mark Bullock's signature "Clean up!" phrase he so eloquently trumpets when admonishing restaurants with failing Montgomery County Health Department scores in WSFA News' "Food For Thought" segment...all I can say to ALDOT about this hole is...

"Fill up!"


I apologize to those of you out there who were expecting to read this blogumn replete with countless "Hooters' boobies" puns and references...as I refrained. But if you ask me very nicely in an email...I'm sure I could accommodate you. ;)