It Is What It Is, Except When It Isn't....

Scotch isn’t scotch when it isn’t scotch. It’s true, I swear! (Stop looking at me like that. I’m serious.) Some things in life aren’t what they are because of what they aren’t. Confused yet? It’s really not that complicated. Let’s do a little role playing: You be Ricky, and I’ll be Lucy with some ‘splainin’ to do.

Scotch is whiskey. Scotch can only be called “scotch” if it is made in Scotland. Otherwise, it is simply whiskey. So that Wild Turkey, aside from the fact that it should only be used to clean paint brushes, is most decidedly not scotch. Get it know?

The same premise applies to Champagne (notice the capitalization). Champagne only comes from the Champagne region of France. If it hails from anywhere else, sorry Sparky – you’re drinking sparkling wine. Just like anything that calls itself bourbon, that’s born outside of Kentucky, is nothing but sour mash. (I learned that from watching The West Wing, so it must be true.)

Why do I mention all of this? A) Because I can; and 2) I forget. I had a point to make somewhere along the line, but I got distracted at “sour mash.” That sounds more like something you’d spoon over a plate of Polish sausage. Mmmmm. Polish sausage and sour mash… Sorry, what? Oh, right.

Sometimes things are not always what they’re claimed to be, or may appear to be something they’re not. Men most often encounter this phenomenon when the reply a woman gives to their question of “are you alright?” is “Fine.” Conversely, women typically experience this when asking a man if he hurt himself and he answers “I’m OK!” No, she’s not fine – she’s an emotional basket case. And no, he’s not ok – he’s a moron that just threw out his back because Mr. Macho-pants thought he could move that air conditioner all by himself. (Those things are f***ing heavy! I mean, um, I heard they’re heavy.)

Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side, but beware: it could simply be greener because the septic system beneath it has backed up and the area is, well, let’s just say over-fertilized. That guy or girl with all the tattoos? Board certified surgeon. That punk kid with the pants hanging down around his thighs? Ok, that guy is still a douchebag. My point is that you shouldn’t take appearances for granted. Sure it may look and smell like scotch, but when you put it to your lips it will immediately tell you otherwise. You may see a coy smile upon her face, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not crying inside. And Mr. Macho-pants? Maybe he’s just trying to help, albeit misguidedly. He’s not ok, but that’s ok.

Back to the scotch analogy - Sure, Seagram’s 7 might taste good with 7-up, but it doesn’t quite hold up if you want a good sipping whiskey. Don’t believe me? Well, my friend, I’ve got a bottle of Glenmorangie, 18-yr, extra rare, single-highland malt scotch you should try. (NOTE: No, you may not actually try my scotch. Well, some of you can. I’m very particular about my scotch sharing.)

Simply put, look for the subtleties. Know the differences. But most importantly, understand them. And if you don’t, for the love of all that is Holy, ask. Where would we be now if Newton never asked why the apple fell, or Kennedy never asked why can’t we put a man on the moon? Look. Know. Understand. Ask. These are simple rules of life that everyone should follow. Why do I impart this little bit of wisdom? Let’s just say I’ve lifted metaphorical air conditioners a time or two. And they are f***ing heavy.

Can we have some Polish sausage and sour mash now?

© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.