So the holiday gauntlet is upon us. And, soon, you’re going to have a house full of people, or you’ll be fighting traffic to reach a house full of people.
Some of them are going to want to talk politics. But that can get messy. Riot gear-messy.
Instead, why not drink your politics?
Here are some cocktail concoctions I threw together. It was nothing, really. They’re overly complicated, poorly executed and likely disappointing, making them a perfect match for the holidays. Enjoy! Or something.
One bottle of Trump Subpoena Noir.
One very big orange, probed, squeezed and cornered.
A pinch of cloves.
An indictment of pinched rogues.
Cinnamon, to taste.
Henchmen, to chase.
Three star anise.
An immunity of star witnesses.
A quarter cup of crony, turned, or fable syrup, lawyered.
Lies, half-truths, cover-ups and emoluments, for garnish.
Combine ingredients in a large, deep caldron, stirring frequently and skimming away any scum at the top. Simmer until you can really feel the heat. Watch for frequent leaks. Serve in a bombshell.
A tight end of Old Hawkeye Glory Days, embellished.
A checkered past of uncovered-truth vermouth.
Several blurts and blabbers of Mueller probe bitters, cable newsed and un-recused.
Mar-a-Lago cherries in a rich sludge, for garnish.
Combine ingredients in a very tall mixing glass until disturbingly murky. Drink until your senses of constitutionality, rule of law and shame are fully impaired. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.
Three ounces of Imported, or deported, tequila, demonized and detained.
One ounce of Orange You Glad He’s President Liqueur.
The juice from several fresh lies.
A spiteful of fearful syrup, mongered.
Insults, for the rim, and the base.
A cultural wedge, for garnish.
Shake ingredients, and ICE, in a cocktail shaker or large sports arena. Pour into a red hat and guzzle while fist-pumping and chanting “Build the wall!” Repeat throughout our nation’s history.
Six ounces of eggnog, made, personally, from scratch, or purchased at a store, by a person, in person.
Two ounces of bourbon, brandy or rum, depending on personal preference.
A dash of nutmeg, or cinnamon, whichever you personally prefer.
Pour ingredients into a festive glass and, with your own personal spoon, stir. Drink during socialist tornadoes, MS-13 attacks, the destruction of America or a blue wave. Feel free to try new combinations. After all, this drink is personal.
Hot Bothered Blum
Run Away Rum, gently questioned.
Butter, totally melted down.
Water, boiling over.
Two terms of sugar, voter-limited.
A tariff of ground spices, thanked.
A parcel of ground ethics, franked.
Combine ingredients in a large bowl. Skip the party.
Four hard swallows of Absolute Disappointment.
Six tablespoons of Cointreau
Six-point-five million dollars.
An urban of lime juice, heavily concentrated.
A rural of bright red cranberry juice, all over the map.
A lime wedge, or shredded tax returns, for garnish.
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Shake ingredients in a priceless, inherited family heirloom and pour into cocktail glasses. The recipe yields a solid, yet uninspiring, drink, more popular in Des Moines south of Grand than in the hustings. Also, more popular among people who say “hustings.”
A bottle of port, inundated.
A bottle of California red wine, smoked and charred
A cup of water, impaired or cresting.
A lib of spices, grated, ground and owned.
A mountain of science, pulverized, disdained and discounted.
A hoax of oranges.
Cherry-picked arguments, for garnish.
Heat the ingredients in a large pot. Gradually, but steadily, raise the heat. Keep raising it. Ignore.
A Kiron of Freedom Party schnapps, master-raced.
A bigot of Covfefe Liqueur, emboldened.
Heavy cream, extra white.
Blood and soil, for garnish.
Fully assimilate all ingredients. Drink like a King.
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