FIRST TANGO WITH FLEISCHMANN'S

[NOTE:  THIS IS ANOTHER SONG FROM THE JESSE RUSSELL/JOHN BRUNI DRINKING BAND THAT NEVER HAPPENED.  THIS ONE IS BASED ON THE TRUE STORY, AS SOME OF YOU MAY RECALL.  ENJOY!]

It was love at first sight.

1.75 liters of cheap whiskey.
For only twelve bucks, you get me?
A doorstop bottle of amber delight.


It was a dry period in my life,
And I couldn’t afford my own booze.
Fitz gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse
The hooch clove my guts like a knife.


It was only supposed to be a pre-game,
I drank half the bottle on Fitz’s chair
I blacked out, and I woke up there
And I barely remembered my name.


I was told we went to the bar
And nearly drank the place dry.
My antics drew all the attention, and I
Was the funniest person there by far.



Hearing these tales of my splendor
Made me wish I’d been there
But all I remember is this stupid chair
I wish I was worthy of this bender.


That’s the trouble with Fleischmann’s, an American tradition since 1862,
It’s cheap and it gets the job done, but good luck remembering what you
Were up to the previous evening, even if you’re told
This Kentucky bourbon is only for the brave and bold.


I shuffled out of Fitz’s place
Still holding the half-full bottle
My body could only move at half-throttle
I felt hung-over, a fucking disgrace.


I stopped at a Dumpster to urinate
When a voice screamed at me,
“What the fuck? Are you taking a pee?”
I jumped and sprayed, I was irate.


“Is that you, God?” I said.
Or perhaps I was on the X-FILES
“I’m in here looking for Marlboro Miles,
And I’m not God, I’m Fred.”


A bum poked his head out of the trash
And he offered his hand to shake
I packed away my trouser snake
And apologized for being so brash.


“That looks like some good whiskey
And it’s been a while since I’ve imbibed
Nothing in my life has since quite jibed
Would you mind sharing some with me?”


What the hell? I thought. Why not?
Alcohol this good should not be hoarded
Even if the fellow looked slightly sordid
I handed it over to the old sot.


We passed the bottle to and fro
For a while, but it got late
Tonight I had a date
So I said, “Have a good one, bro.”


That’s the trouble with Fleischmann’s, an American tradition since 1862,
It’s cheap and it gets the job done, but good luck remembering what you
Were up to the previous evening, even if you’re told
This Kentucky bourbon is only for the brave and bold.


I went home and got dressed
And called my girl, but the date fell through.
What the hell am I going to do?
I still had the bottle, and I did what I thought best.


One minute I was knocking ‘em back
And I was watching TV
Then all of a sudden I lost me
And all I could see was black.


When I woke up the next day
I was naked and bleeding
And, of course, I was needing
Some hair of the dog, or I’ll pay . . . .


I remember seeing a naked man
In my bathroom late last night
It gave me a hell of a fright
And I had to go to the can.


I yelled until my face was red
And lashed out at his form only to hit
The smooth mirror, and the glass bit
Into my hand, and I said:
HOLY SHIT, THAT MAN IS ME!!!


That’s the trouble with Fleischmann’s, an American tradition since 1862,
It’s cheap and it gets the job done, but good luck remembering what you
Were up to the previous evening, even if you’re told
This Kentucky bourbon is only for the brave and bold.


Now the bottle is empty
So I go down to my liquor store
With twelve dollars for more
And I pour new whiskey inside me.