KY Review
When I set out from Tennessee, the weather was dry and unforgiving.
I came upon this house, which supposedly inspired Stephen Foster to write the song "My Old Kentucky Home." You may recognize this house if you've ever looked closely at the famous Kentucky state quarter. It is requested that you disregard the fact that this wasn't actually his home. And also that he wasn't from Kentucky. This song is the official state song, and is sung annually at the Kentucky Derby. It is a testament to the human tendency to always feel envious of other people's homes.
As I traveled deeper into the state, the weather started to feel downright pleasant and moist. It even got warmer.
I decided to check up on the bourbon production.
Moments after this picture was taken, a chubby young German boy fell into the fermentation vat and got sucked through the tubes. God, I hope he's all right.
In this state, bourbon is a social lubricant.
This is where Maker's Mark makes their famous red plastic polymer that they dip their bottles in.
How quaint!
This particular county is a dry county, as they say. Thus, no free bourbon at the end of the tour. I'm still chafing with anger.
There's whiskey in them there barrels, in them there windows.
Our last true national hero.
They say that every boy named "Peter" that was born in the mid-70s was named after this man. Do you know any? Does he like to gamble? I'll bet he does.
Some people think Pete Rose should be in the Hall of Fame. That argument is a slippery slope.
Ken Griffey Jr. and 1990 World Series hero Billy Hatcher share a joke, anecdote, piece of important information, or recipe.
Cincinnati was alright too. But I just didn't think OH was as good as KY. It wasn't as safe, sensual and gentle. Not to mention fragrance-free.
I came upon this house, which supposedly inspired Stephen Foster to write the song "My Old Kentucky Home." You may recognize this house if you've ever looked closely at the famous Kentucky state quarter. It is requested that you disregard the fact that this wasn't actually his home. And also that he wasn't from Kentucky. This song is the official state song, and is sung annually at the Kentucky Derby. It is a testament to the human tendency to always feel envious of other people's homes.
As I traveled deeper into the state, the weather started to feel downright pleasant and moist. It even got warmer.
I decided to check up on the bourbon production.
Moments after this picture was taken, a chubby young German boy fell into the fermentation vat and got sucked through the tubes. God, I hope he's all right.
In this state, bourbon is a social lubricant.
This is where Maker's Mark makes their famous red plastic polymer that they dip their bottles in.
How quaint!
This particular county is a dry county, as they say. Thus, no free bourbon at the end of the tour. I'm still chafing with anger.
There's whiskey in them there barrels, in them there windows.
Our last true national hero.
They say that every boy named "Peter" that was born in the mid-70s was named after this man. Do you know any? Does he like to gamble? I'll bet he does.
Some people think Pete Rose should be in the Hall of Fame. That argument is a slippery slope.
Ken Griffey Jr. and 1990 World Series hero Billy Hatcher share a joke, anecdote, piece of important information, or recipe.
Cincinnati was alright too. But I just didn't think OH was as good as KY. It wasn't as safe, sensual and gentle. Not to mention fragrance-free.
Labels: Cliff's Hanger, I Know What You Did Up the Bummer, Runway Bride, Spray it Forward
posted by Freddy y Blue Demon at 11:54 AM
2 Comments:
Next time you're in Cincinnati, you should give us a call. We could meet up with you and explore Ohio.
That reminds me of a joke.
that vat of bourbon scared me.
you must have made it out of KY by now - what is going on?!
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