Drifting Along With the Tumbling Tumbleweeds

A relatively short post, due to my increased workload. (Lengthy post promised later this week.)

While researching for a history paper, I came across the following ad in the May 1980 Sports Illustrated. A photo of a reputable looking chap in a three piece suit, handlebar mustache, watch-chain, and bowler hat, carrying a cane and holding a glass. Imagine some businessman out of the late 1800s Western USA, and you'll have a good image. Above this picture, the following quote, supposedly attributed to this gentleman:

"Jeremiah Weed? Don't mention that name to me...he still owes me $9,000."
-J. Frederick Sampson, President, Chicago & Ouray Railroad.

Underneath, this text:

Handling money was not Jeremiah's strong suit. Once he was worth more than the president of the Chicago & Ouray. After a week of champagne and showgirls, he didn't have a red cent.
We know Jeremiah would have been proud of the high-spirited mellow of the drink that bears his name. Jeremiah Weed isn't just a legacy. It's a tribute to a 100 proof maverick.

This last next to a photo of a bottle of the aforementioned drink.

Now, to my Northwestern associates, this is already quite enlightening. For the rest of you, let me explain. Jeremiah Weed, a self-styled "bourbon liqueur," is perhaps the worst thing ever drunk at our illustrious drinking hole, the Wudan (and you're talking to men who drank moonshine and something poured for Bourbon from a jug at a gun show). Bourbon Samurai brought this vile concoction to us, and drinking one shot became a rite of passage. It evoked the memorable comment "It tastes green" from Quantum, not to mention one of the few, if not the only, recorded insta-boot in Wudan history. The truly odd twist is that our friend Staggers loved the Weed, as we named it, inventing a new drink by mixing Tobasco Sauce and old Jeremiah to make what we dubbed "The Tumbleweed."

Now, there is the distinct possibility that this bottle had been in Bourbon's possession since 1980, when the ad was published. However, I like to think that we were keeping alive a proud ten-year tradition of alcoholics with really bad taste, or a keen sense of irony and self-loathing. Either way, here's to you, Mr. Weed, a 100 proof maverick and anti-hero for the modern age.