A Funny Story About My Dad and Bourbon

I'm just sitting here sipping my Friday evening bourbon, and it got me thinking how my dad called the other day and told me he went to a bourbon tasting with some of his old Jew friends.

Now this is bizarre, because my dad is not a drinker, let alone a bourbon drinker. I don't know what compelled him to go to this event, but obviously he hated it. My dad and bourbon is like a cat and a bathtub. I have no explanation for this happening.

So he asks me if I've ever had bourbon. Jesus christ, it's like the guy doesn't know me. He's watched me drink bourbon on I'm sure a good many occasions. Nevertheless, I obliged him and informed him yes, I have of course had bourbon and I love bourbon.

He was aghast at this information, asking what I could possibly like about it. I told him it's delicious. He asked me if I had a favorite kind. I told him yes, most definitely, Jim Beam Red Stag is my favorite kind.

That reminds me, I've been told Red Stag is being discontinued, and that upsets me greatly. Maybe I heard wrong. I'll just hope so. 

Anyway, he asked me if Red Stag was TRUE bourbon, as in made in Kentucky. I actually wasn't sure on the spot. But now I've checked, and it is. 

I don't know where this story is going, other than that my dad willing subjected himself to drinking bourbon, which if you know my dad is hysterical.

Of course, you don't know my dad. So, uh ... the end.