Grumpy Old Men is an often forgotten, cinematic gem from ‘93 starring Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon. This “odd” pair play Max Goldman and John Gustafson, a couple of bitter old fucks that haven’t gotten along since high school. It was during this period that John had stolen Max’s then-current girlfriend, resulting in Max holding a grudge matched only in size to the grudge that I personally hold against Steve Henson, for inventing Ranch dressing - a dressing that ranks just under diarrhea in a list of my preferable condiments.
Years later, as widowers and living next door to one another, John and Max live exciting, fulfilling lives comparable only to that of one in a comatose state. This lifestyle continues for years for the two aging pricks until a new neighbor moves in directly across the street. This neighbor, played by Ann Margaret, is Ariel - a middle but finely aged, lively, red-haired woman, with a thing for wrinkled sacks and limp weenies.
Feeling skeptic at first, John and Max stick to nervously watching Ariel from the windows of their homes until one night the perverts notice Chuck, the local bait shop owner, arrive to Ariel’s home carrying chocolates, a rose, and no doubt an undisclosed boner. This move finally sparks enough jealousy that John and Max venture out past their comfort zones of living rooms and fishing shanty’s to engage in an all-out war to see who can first figure out whether or not the pubes do indeed match the drapes.
Though not the first to combine alcohol with an energy drink, in 2005 Phusion released Four Loko, - forever changing partying and giving kids across America the energy and confidence to get black-out drunk and jump dirt bikes over intersections. It was an entire high school kegger conveniently packaged into a single aluminum can. Once those 24 ounces were cracked, a silent self-agreement was made to being okay with the possibility of waking up the following morning under the grill in your neighbor’s backyard with shit in your pants.
It took little to no time after the release of Four Loko for other companies to start releasing their own giant cans of ADHD. Somewhere in the midst of this, Anheuser/Busch released Tilt, giving us their own version of the heart palpitating nectar.
After a few accident reports, and a couple of statewide bans, companies selling these alcoholic energy drinks were pressured into “reformulating” their beverages. This “reformulation” meant essentially taking out caffeine, ginseng, and any last drops of fun.
In knowing that the new formula would be significantly less successful, most of the companies took the next logical step in trying to keep the extreme beverages on everybody’s radar - pump up the alcohol content and drop the price.
The can seen above contains 12% alcohol and was purchased from my local liquor store for 85 cents. I bought “purple” only in assuming that it would be less of a stomach ache than “blue”. The taste wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t great either. Like chasing vodka down with a box of Jolly Joes.
And while lacking the ingredients that made these drinks so popular in the first place, I entirely believe that this single can of Tilt was the sole reason that I then continued to drink two 40 ounce bottles of Mickey’s malt liquor and a very decent amount of a bottle of wine, blacked out for a bit, came back and ate the best grilled cheese on the planet, passed out, woke up still drunk and watched Office Space, went back to bed, and then woke up late for work.
Touche’ Purple Tilt, Touche’.