Jean-Claude Van Damme: No Retreat, No Surrender (1986)

This poster doesn't do the movie justice, because it's actually a pretty good poster

No Retreat, No Surrender is Jean-Claude Van Damme’s graduation to the world of credited roles with his name spelled correctly.  Van Damme plays Ivan the Russian in this Karate Kid/Rocky IV knockoff…er amalgamation.

No Retreat, No Surrender is about some evil 80’s businessmen (complete with slicked back hair) and their Russian goon (Mr. Van Damme) attacking the sensei at an LA dojo for not getting with the program.  As to what “the program” entails the movie offers absolutely no explanation.  The article on Wikipedia claims that the rich guys are scheming to take over every karate dojo in the country.  Based on the beaten-up station wagon the sensei drives (and his family’s seeming lack of furniture) karate dojo ownership might not be the lucrative field the evil rich guys think it is. 

 

Evil Van Damme

Anyway, it turns out the sensai that got beaten-up earlier was the father of Jason, the protagonist of the film.  After getting in one little fight Jason’s dad got scared and moved the family to Seattle (not Bel-Air.)  Jason quickly makes friends with a 1980’s Black Kid and they both immediately run afoul of the local bullies.  Things go poorly for Jason until he makes friends with the ghost of Bruce Lee, prompting a series of training scenes and montages that put Rocky IV to shame.  In fact, most of the film’s meager 85 minute runtime alternates between Bruce Lee’s ghost offering up some half-baked Eastern philosophy so Jason can punch better, and Jason working out.  For reasons which were unnecessarily complicated, not to mention illogical, the film climaxes with Jason fighting Ivan the Russian, not for revenge but to protect the Seattle dojo.(?) 

 

Even bullies enjoy eating an entire fucking birthday cake.

Overall the main fight scene was pretty well choreographed, and with the benefit of hindsight, showed an interesting role reversal.  Typically JCVD spends the first half of any fight getting the shit kicked out of him until he gets a second wind, somehow, and goes on the offensive delivering a quick series of blows followed by a knockout flying roundhouse kick to the face of his opponent.  This time the situation is reversed with Jason serving as Van Damme’s punching bag, that is of course until 80’s Black Kid shouts the titular line (for the second time)!

 

"Quit fucking standing there...ugh...No Reatreat, No Surrender!"

At which point Jason naturally gains the upper hand and beats the living shit out of Ivan, which betrays the single flaw of casting Van Damme as a bad guy: it wasn’t believable at all.  The idea of Van Damme losing a fight to anyone this side of Stallone or Schwarzenegger strains credulity to its breaking point.  I get the whole David and Goliath thing they were going for, but despite the 70% or so of the film’s runtime devoted to training sequences there was nothing established to suggest Jason had the tools to take on a bigger, stronger, Soviet-er, opponent.  Usually a hero defeats a larger adversary through cunning, speed, or at the very least sheer willpower.  David had a slingshot, Indiana Jones had a Nazi-shredding propeller, Rocky IV was made of iron, and the Karate Kid had the crane kick.  Jason had what, the ability to have his double kick someone in the face?  Jason’s signature move belies the other side of the problem; although it is now easy to realistically show the likes of Carrie-Anne Moss or Nic Cage somewhat implausibly flying through the air shooting guns and beating people up, not so much in 1986.  Whatever the narrative failed to set up the fight scene didn’t quite deliver on screen, and leaves the viewer with the impression that the evil business dudes and their Commie stooge should have triumphed over the forces of good.

 

See what I mean?  Nice hair dude.

I for one would have preferred that ending.  Instead of Jason’s dad awkwardly chanting “Ja-son!” (by himself), or about 15 people from the crowd unenthusiastically lifting Jason in the air we would have gotten to find out what the hell the bad guys were trying to do.  They win a karate match which means they get what, a trophy and a $25 Red Lobster gift card?  Even if it allows them to somehow take over the Seattle dojo, what purpose does it serve?  Wasn’t the Hair Club for Men a thing back then? Maybe they were going to turn it into one of those?  Even still, having a Soviet karate champ on retainer seems like would probably eat into your profits.   

No Retreat, No Surrender was followed by two sequels, neither of which star Van Damme so they are of no interest to this blogger.

Villain:  Jean-Claude Van Damme; an even match for Van Damme if there ever was one.  Unfortunately, he faced off against some skinny punk and not himself.  America has to wait another 5 years to see that amazing spectacle…for the first time.

 

This film also marks the first of many times Van Damme will do the splits in a major motion picture

Fashion:  It was also kind of an interesting choice to dress the Soviet fighter in white and the All-American protagonist in Red.  I’m sure it symbolized something.  There were also lots of dudes in sleeveless shirts.  Every time I try to wear a sleeveless shirt out of the house my wife asks if I’m going “cruising.”  Whatever.  What’s the point of doing all of those curls if I can’t wear a sleeveless shirt? Despite the cool sleeveless shirts I’m going to give the best dressed award to 80’s Black Kid’s Michael Jackson get-up.

 

Not pictured: 80's Black Kid rapping, break dancing, or boom box listening.  All of which happens in his few minutes of screent ime.

Trailers: I watched NR,NS on VHS and beforehand was treated to a trailer for the film Toy Soldiers.  “They do what the army won’t.”  It seemed to involve partying with bikini babes, which the army doesn’t do but probably would if you asked them.  Samuel L. Jackson doesn’t show up after the credits to NR,NS to recruit Van Damme to the Avengers.  Instead, we are treated to a trailer for the Michael Mann TV series Crime Story, which I’ve never seen and don’t intend to.

 

I think "The BREAST Rescue Team in History" is a better tagline but whatever.

Next time: Van Damme becomes an overnight sensation with the success of Bloodsport, his best film to date.

Jean-Claude Van Damme: Early and Uncredited Work (1984)

As is the case with most actors Jean-Claude spent the early years of his career in mostly uncredited bit parts, none of which I’ve seen in their entirety.  After watching some of his scenes on youtube I don’t really feel the need.

Barbarous Street (1984)

I found Waldo's stupid leaves tattoo!

Jean-Claude’s first feature film, in which he plays an extra in police arrival sequence.  I couldn’t even find a still image on google.  Although the entire film is available on youtube, it’s all in French with no subtitles.  I speak nary a word of French and the movie only has a 5.3 out of 10 on imdb.  Needless to say I didn’t feel the need to Where’s Waldo the crap out of this movie just to catch a glimpse of our hero.   Based on what I gleaned from the poster, the film takes place in an alleyway and it's about a guy in a dirty shirt with a shiny hand.  He seems to be standing in front of bed (with a sexy lady) that's glowing for some reason. Not featured on poster: Jean-Claude Van Damme; however Van-Damme did two more uncredited parts in 1984 before graduating to a credited speaking role, so I’m going to assume he did a bang up job and keep rolling.

Breakin’ (1984)

Contractions are rad

I’m kind of ashamed to admit I’ve never seen the penultimate break-dancin’ movie in its entirety.  Van-Damme is very easy to spot in his scene; right at the front of the background in a black tank top, slapping his hands very enthusiastically.  Some would say too enthusiastically, even distractingly.  Whatever. Haters.  I think it showed moxie, and a little flash of things to come.  Van Damme is not a background player content to kind of shuffle in time to the music.  He’s a star!  Also, I can sympathize: if you look very closely during the wake at the beginning of Road to Perdition you can see a high-school-aged Danny standing around in the background.  The only reason I say “barely see” and not “hamming it up, completely stealing the scene” is because I was asked very nicely not do so after ruining a take.   

The first but certainly not the last time we will see Jean-Claude Van Damme dancing

Missing in Action (1984)

The first and last time Van Damme and Chuck Norris would work together until The Expendables 2 nearly 20 years later.  In this film Van Damme plays “Car Driver (uncredited).”  It’s hard to say having not seen the film, but it hardly sounds like Van Damme’s martial skills were utilized to their fullest ability.  Talk about a missed opportunity.  I like The Expendables franchise as much as the next guy, probably more than the next guy, especially if that guy is Mahatma Gandhi (pacifist, also died before the films’ release); still I have to admit it would be better to see Chuck Norris and Van Damme squaring off in their prime than as middle aged, or in Chuck’s case, old aged men.

Monaco Forever (1984)

Wizard Hottie costume. Absolutely nothing to do with HarryPotter

 Van Damme’s first credited role (as Jean-Claude Vandam.)  Considering they didn’t spell his name right I’m not sure it really counts.  In Monaco Forever Jean-Claude plays “gay karate man,” which sounds more like an unlicensed Halloween costume than a role in a movie; however watching the scene on youtube it’s a pretty apt description.  Although I didn’t have the rest of the film to give the scene context it seemed pretty easy to figure out.  Jean-Claude picks up a well dressed hitchhiker (presumably the protagonist of the film) and proceeds to come onto him sexually.  Instead of explaining that he’s “not that kind of guy” the tuxedoed gentleman insists Van Damme pull over for a good ol’ fashioned gay bashing.  Van Damme apologizes and begs not to fight, but when pressed shows off some of his sick karate moves prompting the homophobe to run away fast-motion-Three-Stooges-style.  Presumably the protagonist continues his adventure slapping women around and oppressing minorities while “gay karate man” minces off into the sunset.  Hilarious right?  While that scene wasn’t exactly progressive, Van Damme’s outfit sure was: a karate gi, khaki pants, driving gloves, and no shoes.  It made Swayze’s getup in Roadhouse seem tasteful and understated.

Next time:  JCVD plays a Soviet fighter in No Retreat, No Surrender

Ooooo! Music by Frank Harris?  This just became a must see!

Jean-Claude Van Damme: A Career Retrospective

Sumthin' for the ladies

I have two major hobbies: drinking cheap beer and watching shitty movies; two things that go together like waffles and happiness.  I’ve discussed cheap beer at length, but barely scratched the testosterone fueled surface of the wide world of shitty action movies.  To that end I will now be adding Jean-Claude Van Damme movie reviews to this blog in addition to the usual bottomshelf beer nonsense.  Why Van  Damme you ask?

I know it's shopped, but still...

Well asshole, you got some fucking nerve questioning the motives of a sophisticated writer like myself.  For the record Jean-Claude isn’t my favorite actor, but he’s certainly an actor, at least in the sense that people pay him to “act” in movies.  I’ve seen him act in more movies that any other actor in the world, beginning with the Street Fighter movie, a film I remember seeing in the theater multiple times.  I also saw Double Team in the theater and enjoyed it.  Both of those facts should give you some idea of what my tastes were like in Junior High.  I was a little late to the party but just in time to catch the tail-end of “Van-Damme fever.”  In college I turned those early positive memories into really positive memories by re-examining the career of Van Damme around the same time I took up drinking and making fun of shitty movies as a full time hobby.

Kylie Minogue as Cammy in the Street Fighter movie

And holy cow Van Damme made a lot of shitty movies.  In point of fact, I’d be hard pressed to say he ever made a good movie (in the classical meaning of the word “good.”)  Still there was something that separated Van Damme from the Dolph Lundgrens, Michael Dudikoffs, and Steven Seagals of the world.  Part of it was certainly Jean-Claude’s endearing(?) pancake batter thick accent, not to mention his mullet, and the weird knot thing growing on his head.  Part of it was his success in spite of all that stuff and his aforementioned acting ability.  I mean, a guy that had few talents beyond doing the splits and kicking people in the face was at one time worthy of a somewhat-complimentary-Simpsons joke and a guest spot on the Super Bowl episode of Friends.  A scant two years later, “the Muscles from Brussles” was making direct-to-video turdfests.  Intriguing to say the least.

The good ol' days when movies looked like shit

To answer that riddle I think it’s important to start at the beginning and work our way forward.  I won’t always be going in strict chronological order lest I get bottled-necked trying to acquire some out of print piece of shit movie, but I’ll be mixing these reviews in with my regular blog posts.  I’ll still be drinking, hell I wouldn’t recommend watching the Van Damme career library without a few drinks, or a massive amount of cocaine (to take a page out of the Van Damme playbook.)

Every time I see some dude in a Scarface t-shirt I think, "that guy is really cool, I wonder if he is also sexually obsessed with his own sister?"  

Next time: We examine Mr. Van Damme/Vandam’s early and uncredited work.

Bottomshelf Beer Review: Pruno AKA Prison Hooch

Jean-Claude Van Damme displaying the full range of his acting talents.

Homebrewing is all the rage right now amongst white people, so I thought I’d get involved bottomshelf style and make a little pruno; AKA prison hooch; AKA toilet wine.  Seeing as how pruno is typically made in prison it’s not that popular amongst white people, because we don’t go to jail, unless we’re poor.    Pruno might not be beer per se, but I’m trying to find the bottom of the bottomshelf and I’ve heard pruno described as a “vomit flavored wine cooler” so it probably comes pretty fucking close.

 

It was this or the doughnut scene from The Fly

In prison you can’t go down to the liquor store and get a can of fermented hops and barley courtesy of the G. Heileman Brewingcompany, so you have to make your booze yourself.  Only you probably can’t get hops and wheat so you have to ferment whatever is at hand.  Personally I used 6 oranges, a can of fruit cocktail, ketchup, half a lid of Tang, some moldy bread, and a plastic bag.  I didn’t ferment the bag but I thought I’d mention it because you’ll need one of those too.

First thing I did was peel off the stickers from the oranges.  My brother says the stickers are edible, and I do realize we’re making a drink in which one of the key ingredients is moldy bread.  Still, the thought of drinking something with a bunch of stickers floating in it disgusts me.  Then you put the oranges in your plastic bag, bucket, or whatever and mash the shit out of them.  If oranges aren’t available you can use apples, tomatoes, or just about any produce.  I’ve heard of people using potatoes or milk, but both of those greatly increase your odds of getting the shits.  Plus they sound disgusting.

 

ORANGE you glad you don't have to eat this sticker?! LOLOLOLOL!!!

Then you add a can of fruit cocktail, and moldy bread.  Brewers’ yeast is sure as shit contraband in prison so the moldy bread acts as source of yeast to consume the oranges, fruit cocktail, and/or what-have-you and turn it into alcohol.  Most recipes recommend stuffing the moldy bread in a sock so you don’t have to drink moldy bread, which is an admittedly sound idea considering the person who thought of it wasn’t smart enough to stay out of jail.  I shouldn't talk though, I gave the sock a squeeze to get the last bit pruno and a bunch of brown liquid squirted out and infected the rest of the batch with gross brownness.     

The 58th Heinz variety

Once you have everything in the bag you accelerate the fermentation process by mashing it all up real good and running your bag of garbage under a hot tap or putting it on the radiator.  When you get done heating it wrap the whole thing in a bedsheet or towel to trap the heat and incubate your concoction.  A couple of day later I added the half lid of Tang and couple of squirts of ketchup.  Why ketchup?  I have no idea.  Every pruno recipe I found contains ketchup so ketchup it is then.  I ran it under a hot tap and started playing the waiting game.

 

The waiting game is Super Breakout. It may also teach you how to break out of prison with only a ping-pong paddle

Most recipes say the process takes a little over a week.  For me it took at least a whole week longer.  During that time be sure to periodically reheat the bag and let out the gasses that build up during the fermentation process.   When the gas build-up started to slow down I filtered that shit through an old T-shirt and gave it a taste test.  I have to say…not bad.  I don’t really taste the alcohol, but at this point in my life I only notice the taste of alcohol in an abstract way.  I’m 90% sure there’s alcohol in straight whiskey but I’d be hard pressed to explain how I came to that conclusion.  It mostly tastes like a primitive mimosa, something a caveman would drink at brunch with his sabertoothed bacon and dinosaur eggs.  This is nowhere near as bad as a lot of the stuff I’ve ended up drinking during my research.

I did not see that coming at all.  I expected to find the bottom of the bottomshelf, and the pruno I made wasn’t that bad.  If I’m being honest though I have to say that fresh produce and other ingredients, when acquired legally, cost more way than it should to get drunk especially when you factor in time.  Time is one of the few things that isn’t scarce in prison, hence the phrase “doin’ time.”  In the real world it’s not really worth the effort.  All that being said, prison sounds a lot less bad than it did before, plus it would give me a chance to show off my full torso swastika tattoo.

When I was about 10 and I heard about "prison rape" I thought it sounded cool because I pictured situations similar to the one above. This was mostly based on my imprecise understanding of the word "rape," and my  utter failure to grasp the fact that prison is full of other dudes. 

Bottomshelf Beer: Bud Ice

Everything about this picture is great.  Worthy of it's own blogpost.

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of time travel; Dr. Who, Back to the Future, and my desire to go back to the 1970’s and motorboat Pam Grier’s big black boobies.  Scientists have speculated that time travel would require the force of an exploding sun, but I managed to accomplish said feat with a twelve pack of the 1994 classic Bud Ice.  I might not have actually gone “back in time” per se, or I would have brought an iPad with me and made millions of dollars, but it doesn’t get more 1994 than Bud Ice. I was drinking history.  

I think this also sums things up pretty well

Other cultural milestones of 1994 included that whole John Bobbitt thing, that Tonya Harding thing, and that O.J. Simpson double homicide thing.  In music it was the high-watermark year for alternative, which was as popular and culturally relevant as it was ever going to get.  To drive the point home Kurt Cobain blew his fucking brains out.  In hip-hop Biggie, 2Pac, Nas, and Outkast all released groundbreaking albums.  At least that’s the way we tend to remember 1994.  The top ten singles for the year paint a different picture:

Hello Lisa Loeb's butt.

1. The Sign, Ace Of Base
2. I Swear, All-4-One
3. I'll Make Love to You, Boyz II Men
4. The Power of the Dream, Céline Dion
5. Hero, Mariah Carey
6. Stay (I Missed You), Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories
7. Breathe Again, Toni Braxton
8. All for Love, Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart and Sting
9. All That She Wants, Ace Of Base
10. Don't Turn Around, Ace Of Base

Barftastic.  The only thing I remember about any of these songs is how much I hated them, the rest I don’t even remember at all.  Gun to the head I would have guessed that Ace of Base had one top ten single.  Even the alternative radio of the day was polluted with plenty of multiplatinum selling, utterly forgettable, suicide-inducingly-awful bands like, Candlebox, Live, Collective Soul, Counting Crows, and  The fucking 4 Non-Blondes.  Keep in mind that 1994 was still sort of a banner year for alternative.  The Goo Goo Dolls lurked just around the corne,r and alternative rock’s musical equivalent to the Anti-Christ, Limp Bizkit, had already been born.  It was all downhill from there.

Even  this album cover makes me so fucking mad.

In 1994 Bud Ice was also everywhere, promoted heavily by Budweiser as they attempted to seize the high ground in the Ice Beer Wars. (See Milwaukee’s Best Ice for more info on the conflict.)  The multimillion dollar ad-campaign featured a singing penguin who murdered people for their Bud Ice.  At least I think that’s what they were going for.  Birds are scary, but a penguin can’t even fly in your mouth.  I guess most birds don’t actually fly in people’s mouths, nevertheless the thought terrifies me.  Anyway, even if the penguin was merely larcenous and not psychotic it was still kind of an odd choice for a marketing campaign.  

flightless bird; water-fowl; serial killer; spokesman

I was all but positive Bud Ice had been discontinued sometime in the last 20 years when I saw it at the liquor store.  Not wanting to pass up a relic from a bygone era I purchased some immediately.  An internet search revealed that it was Bud Ice Light, not Bud Ice which had been discontinued in 2010. One sip and I could tell why a beer once featured in the lesbian seduction scene in Bound (1996) had fallen so far out of the mainstream that I was all but sure of its extinction.  It tastes pretty much like Budweiser but boozier.  That’s not a good thing.  The shit’s bad.  I have no idea how or why Bud Ice was ever popular.

If I had a time machine I don’t think I’d stop myself from drinking Bud Ice, but I’d sure as shit buy some ranch sauce to go with the pizza rolls I had for dinner the other night.  I guess I’d probably kill Hitler to.  Bud Ice is about as low on my “time travel priorities” list as it is in real life.  I can only recommend Bud Ice to hardcore  bottomshelf completionists and 1994 enthusiasts.

Time travel often leads to The Nazis winning WWII, but I'd risk going back to 1994 for some P.B. Crisps.

Speaking of 1994 did you check out Tonya Harding's website out earlier?  I've seen "ate my balls" pages that were more up to date.

My Favorite Bumper Sticker

I bet this peace creep wonders why he doesn' tget invited to parties

No one’s ever asked me about my all-time favorite bumper sticker, but if they ever do I’ll answer without a second’s hesitation.  I encountered my favorite bumper sticker exactly once in my life, back in 2006, when I was working in a printshop.  The walls of the place were decorated with examples of our shops printshopping skills.  One bumper sticker in particular caught my eye: “Will trade husband for Beanie Babies.”

 

I didn't have a camera phone back then so you'll just have to settle for these college girls of varying levels of attractiveness

At first I was struck by the anachronism.  2006 was about a decade after Beanie Baby Mania had taken hold of this country as Beatlemania had done three decades prior to that.  For those of you who didn’t live through BBM let me just say it was a wild time when little stuffed animals, not too dissimilar from the kind you can still acquire 50 cents and some mad-claw-game-skillz, became collectibles worth literally a few dollars.  The bumper sticker in question is actually a great example of what set Beanie Baby Mania apart from previous toy fads like pet rocks or hula hoops.  Beanie Babies weren’t just for kids.  Kids don’t have cars or husbands (I hope), and yet someone believed there was a big enough market for women with both of those things who also wished to express a rabidly pro-tiny stuffed toy sentiment on the back of their car.

 

Scrooge McDuck would love this room if he cared about Beanie Babies instead of worthless money

As big as Beanie Babies were, what was the creative process for writing the funniest bumper sticker of all time like?  Was is it a bunch of writers sitting around a table at one of the major bumper sticker conglomerates with the prompt “Will trade husband for ____?”   Rollerblades?  No.  Crystal Clear Pepsi? Forget it.  Beanie Babies?  Fuck yes, promotions for everyone! Or was it a lone genius, who recognized that he had a million dollar idea on his hands and quit his day job to take his chances in the rough and tumble world of bumper sticker publishing? 

 

"Will trade husband for a spaceship ride behind the Hale-Bopp comet?  Too soon?"

I don’t know how many bumper stickers he sold but I have a lot of fun picturing the clientele: chubby middle-aged ladies with jean jackets, jean jackets with Winnie-the-Pooh back patches or perhaps a sassy Tweety bird.  In addition to the Beanie Babies I picture her cubicle littered with the flotsam and jetsam of various short-lived trends of the late 80’s to early 90’s: Chia Pets, troll dolls, and Garfield everywhere.  She has no idea why anyone would find it funny that a lady such as herself has a ceramic pig cookie jar.  She finds the notion of trading her matrimonial partner for a stuffed animal plausible or at the very least humorous.  This is a woman who shouldn’t be driving.  This is a woman who shouldn't be voting.

 

When I was a janitor there was a woman with tacky shit like this all over her cubicle.  Almost every day she complained we didn't vacuum all of the cookie crumbs and candy wrappers under her desk.  If I was her I would've been too embarrassed.

I didn’t have to use my imagination to picture the woman’s husband because the bumper sticker had thoughtfully provided me with an illustration.  The gentleman in question was depicted on the sticker as a fat bald guy, complete with easy chair, bottle of booze, and cartoonish drunk-guy bubbles popping over his head.  Did the hypothetical woman who purchased this bumper sticker turn to Beanie Babies to escape her loveless marriage to a drunken louse?  Or was this guy drunk as a skunk because his wife was a fucking moron who collected stupid toys?  The chicken or the egg?  The line between comedy and tragedy begins to blur.  Then I picture the poor guy picking the kids up from soccer practice in his wife’s Subaru with this sticker on the bumper and it becomes really funny again.  

“Will Trade Husband for Beanie Babies” is the funniest bumper sticker I’ve ever seen in my life by a wide margin, like ten times funnier than “Coexist” or “Google Ron Paul.”  One of my only regrets in life is that I did not think to take a picture of the bumper sticker to share with all of you on a blog many years later.  Oh well, tune in next week when I review my second favorite bumper sticker “Abortion is Murder.”

Bottomshelf Beer Reviews: Freedom Salute

What a country!

Freedom isn’t free.  The heaviest price for our freedom is paid by soldiers on the battlefield, but the most common price is probably abject stupidity, more accurately dealing with stupidity.  If Obama can run for President so can David Duke, and the dumbest people in the world will fill up the comments section of a New York Times article about the subject.  Alcohol isn’t any freer than freedom itself; fortunately Freedom Salute only costs a little over $4 at the local Walgreens.

 

Ben Franklin: patriot; philosopher; drunken pussy-hound

Our founding fathers understood the importance of ”the pursuit of happiness,” and if you’re not drinking you’re doing it wrong.  There are few freedoms I enjoy more than the freedom to get drunk on the cheap.  I guess I enjoy the freedom to vote too, but I only do that every couple of years and if I’m really being honest with myself it’s kind of a chore.  I know voting is more important than drinking, but if you look at the blood drenched years of prohibition or the whiskey rebellion the freedom to drink is a freedom we as a nation also take pretty fucking seriously.

FUN FACTS: in the U. S. women couldn't vote until 1920 and minorities were legally bared from voting in some states as late as 1965.  Actually come to think of it, those facts aren't very fun at all.

As I alluded to in the introduction, freedom has a price.  I am eternally thankful for those who pay it.  I’ve always been a big supporter of our Nation’s armed forces, and for their part Freedom Salute boasts that they donate a minimum of $25,000 dollars annually to Operation Homefront.  It sounds impressive until you consider the 8,000+ Walgreens stores selling four tallboys for $4 and some change.  By my math Walgreens would be coming out ahead even if they only sold one 4-pack per store per year.  Personally, I always throw in a few bucks when they ask me to make a donation at Petsmart, but I don’t make a big deal out of it.  Honesty, I always feel kind of embarrassed when the lesbian behind the counter thanks me for my meager $2 donation.  Still, there’s worse ways for Freedom Salute to spend the money, after all $25,000 can buy a lot of cocaine, er…some cocaine.  I don’t do drugs, but it sounds like a lot.

 

Some cocaine

Freedom Salute has that cheap rotten apple flavor, which I find hard to describe to people without beers like Camo Black Exxxtra or Gameday Ice in their taste lexicon.  I mean, I think I do a pretty good job describing it, but it’s like describing an orgasm to someone that’s never had one, only the opposite of that.  Gross sour apple is kind of its own branch on bottomshelf beer tree, and if you’ve never had any of its gut wrenching fruit you should consider yourself lucky.  Freedom Salute is probably one of the better examples of the genre, but that’s kind of like calling the principle from Ferris Bueller my second favorite child pornographer (after Gary Glitter.)  If you think it’s just a matter of personal preference and I’m being an asshole, just try some for yourself.  I fucking double dare you.

 

The Physical Challenge

In high school I had to write an essay on what freedom meant to me.  I got a C, mostly because I just kind of described the plot of First Blood Part II.  As for what Freedom Salute means to me, I’d say D to D minus.  They may take our lives but they’ll never take our Freedom Salute, unless they ask for it in which case I’ll give it away for free..er…for freedom!

They drew first bloood...not me.