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64 Bourbons Bracket Matchup 30: Maker’s Private Select Smore Castle vs. Woodinville

Song: “Can’t Lose You” by Type O Negative

Maker’s Private Select Smore Castle advances to the round of 32. Woodinville had a fighters chance when the Dentyne classic was center stage. But then Woodinville kept giving me more and more and more scotch notes. Hitting me over the head with them. The quasi-scotch worked for Town Branch. I am a bit removed from that matchup, but Town Branch knocked it out of the park on the way to some sort of upset. But this Woodinville seemed like muted and cheap scotch. Once it went scotch, it didn’t go back. I couldn’t pull out the delectable Dentyne. Or the soft honey notes. And those worked. Woodinville’s nose was simple. When Woodinville was Dentyne and soft honey, it had a chance. Was delicious. Then that dirty smoky scotch bullshit started Creepin on a Come Up. What. The. Muted apple crawlspace. Fuck? Gratuitous use of periods should tell you that Woodinville went sideways. As Type O Negative put me into a sitar and chanting trance about soft spots ...

Woodinville couldn’t become interconnected with the trance of “Can’t Lose You.” And if that song doesn’t put you in a trance, then feel free to blast Luke Bryan or DMX; and leave me the fuck alone as I journey on a bourbon drenched musical trip. We’ll get along just fine after I come down from this Smore Castle and “Can’t Lose You” magic carpet ride. I would not fail a drug test, but I am on another level right now. There is sweet, smoky complexity to this Smore Castle. No chocolate. Although as I type that, my brain starts to taste chocolate covered marshmallows. 🤣 What a big brain on bourbon soaked bread I have. At times.

Let me address this elephant in the room. I wasn’t going to allow any double oaked or barrel finished or wine cask or rum cask or any other type of double, triple, casked type of bottles into this bracket. Then my brother RB entered an Andy Griffith submitted double oaked. Then I remembered I already had one of my MMPS in the bracket of 64. Then Tater Savior Fred Minnick had an NCAA esque Mocha bracket. And I got another bottle of MMPS at LB with 3 or 4 mocha staves. And... sum bitch. The finished, the oaked, started creeping on some come ups.

Well, guess what bourbon? You’re going to have to man. The. Fuck. Up. There it is. Again. Gratuitous over-reliance on periods and capitalization for emphasis. Blame Chris. Fucking. Kael. AKA Sprinkle. Of Hecatomb and Hymen and Noisome Corpse. Now of Five Finger Death Punch. One of my lame claims to fame. But he made it. Earned it. Success and millions and a level of fettering to social media. Which I flee from, like jock itch. For I loathe social media.

Not sure where I was going with that. But I think I was trying to blame Chris Kael’s overuse. Of. The. Period. 🤣 Last time I hung with Chris, I got lit on shitty Ancient Age that I bought at Big Daddy liquors and then drove him to WRFL for an interview with Matt Dacey on Matt’s Metal Mortuary at WRFL.

But I kept drifting away from Smore Castle. That’s OK. My dog licks my head. My wife calls me and wants to break down playground dynamics. Let me head back to the Smore Castle. Now there is a monstrous amount of marshmallows. Like I am smothered in a glaze of smoky marshmallow skin. My life beckons. As it should. A hint of lime comes through. There are scotch notes, but this MMPS Smore Castle transcends limitations of scotch and bourbon. Key lime? Lemon tart? MArshmallow skin? Yes? As “Can’t Lose You” transcends genres. What genre is that song. Metal? What subgenre? Psychedelic? How? Where did this song come from? Where did Smore Castle come from? As that demogorgon artificial grape starts to approach my brain. Time to eat some chicken wings. And come up with a middle name for our dog. Smore Castle is shooting up the draft boards (NFL draft approaches) like Jamin Davis. Delicious. I have to watch out for the snake in the grass of barrel finished bourbons. Let’s enjoy this ride.

Cheers!

Five Finger Death Punch // No Sudden Movement

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Oh man, Five Finger Death Punch has gotten so formulaic I spent the last five minutes trying to find a song I'd made up but was convinced was real. Sad times.