116 3rd St SE
Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52401
Soon, there will be a intoxicating chill in the air. We’ll might even be able to see our breath. Maybe it’s full of COVID, and maybe it’s not. Keep your distance, just in case.
But even with our public health setbacks, you can still gather with friends outdoors to enjoy the golden majesty of an Iowa fall. There’s tailgating, leaf peeping, apple picking and school board protesting.
Nothing pairs better with these chilly pastimes than a good fall drink. Here are some suggestions appropriate to our current timeline.
Mad No-Mask Mule
Four screams of communist vodka.
Six chants of Karen Ale or Cringer Beer.
A Facebook of fresh lies and their acidic juice.
A tantrum of crushed ice.
Mix vodka and ale or beer with crushed ice using the stick of a misspelled protest sign. Add a generous squeeze of lies. Serve in a demagnetized Q Anon copper mug. Gulp angrily before a school board meeting.
Two shots of Ginned Up Nonsense or any bleach-based cleaner.
A half-shot of No Truth Vermouth.
Ivermectin, pumpkin spice flavor, for garnish.
Shake nonsense and no truth vermouth in a cocktail shaker filled with ice made with non-flouridated water. Shake, vigorously, until the cocktail is well-blended and prescribed by an online doctor. Top with a dollop of horse de-wormer. Serve in an ICU, through a ventilator.
Eight ounces of hot coffee, brewed using the tears of libs filtered through a discarded face mask.
An unhealthy shot of Irate Risky, unvaccinated.
A cube of very white sugar, middle-aged.
A conspiracy of cream, whipped angrily into a froth.
A microchip, for garnish.
Pour risky over the sugar and fill the glass three-quarters full with coffee. Surreptitiously add the microchip. Top with a cuff of frothing cream. Serve widely through the community along with a fever, body aches and cough. Track the drinkers’ movements, for some reason.
Red State Trailblazer
A Noem of Angry Orchard Cider, fully infected.
An Abbott of Texas Misogyny, oppressive.
Two glugs of Crème DeSantis, tanned, coifed.
A jigger of Old Ricketts Husker Red Rye, well past its prime.
A babbling stream of Reynolds’ sparkling dirty water, algae or nitrate.
A Fox News of grating nut jobs, for garnish.
Combine the ingredients and heat with a Tiki torch until steaming hot with outrage. Add nut jobs. Perfect for outdoor events, such as storming the U.S. Capitol. Or throw at the nearest socialist.
One large orange you glad we have nonpartisan redistricting.
One bottle of Old Vine Iowa Politics Wine, aged, reasonable.
One shot of First Map Dandy, complex but nonpartisan.
Two Second Map cinnamon sticks, broken up and muddled.
Three gerrymanders of Third Map High jinks Honey, from nervous bees.
Shredded, rejected maps, for garnish.
Slowly heat up ingredients in a pot with a golden dome, behind closed doors until you smell a hint of mendacity. At the moment the pot comes to a boil, ladle in the third map, fill cups and pass swiftly. Be careful not to get burned.
This is Iowa Not Manhattan
Three ounces of Red State Rye, watered down.
One punch of Back the Blue Vermouth, arresting, or an illusion of Welcome Diversity Untruth, sweetened, contrived.
A shot of Old Time History, vintage 1776 but never 1619.
A cynical of cherry-picked images, for garnish.
Mix the ingredients in a tall cocktail glass until blended. Pour into a $3.7 million marketing campaign paid for with COVID relief funds. Serve to young coastal professionals visiting a polluted lake, an underfunded park, an anti-mask protest or bill signing banning reproductive rights. Cheers!
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