Jeppson's Malört: OMGOMGOMGOMG

I first became intrigued by Jeppson's Malört during a recent trip to Chicago. While attending a conference about how to not totally fuck-up your website, I hung out with a group of hard-drinking User Experience twinkle toes. A look of pure, undiluted, indescribable horror crossed their faces while describing it. I knew at once that I must try it.

Long story short: I scored a bottle at Binny's, the Windy City's liquor store of choice. While checking out, a concerned look came over the clerk's face. Leaning forward and nearly whispering, he asked if I was really, really sure that I wanted to buy this booze. I thought he was just being a dramatic joker, but now I know that this guy was truly looking out for me. He commented that this Chicago potable is pure distilled evil. I assured him that I could handle it. Hell, I like herbal liqueur, like Benedictine and Absinthe. Well, perhaps I don't really like them, but I like the thought of liking them.

So, I bought the bottle and brought it home. I looked at it the other night and thought, "Why not?" That's exactly the same "why not" that talks you into huffing spray paint behind the middle school, screwing your step sister or shoving a gerbil up the bunghole.

Pouring my first shot of Malört, I noticed that its color was that of bedpan urine. I thought twice about drinking it, but the smell was so bizarre and industrial that I just had to try it. That's when I arrrggghhhh!-ed.

Jeppson's Malört is the most awful, foul, revolting, terrible, malicious, gut-wrenching swill I have ever subjected my liver to. In fact, there aren't enough adjectives for "shit" and "horror" for me to accurately review this swill.

This stuff starts out like Listerine. And not the kind with cool mint, either. Plain fucking Listerine that makes your mouth pucker up like a jailhouse sphincter. It has the mouth-feel of curdled battery acid. As it snakes its way to the pit of your belly, it leaves a long, burning tail down the back of your throat that is... inescapable. Hours later, I still had the sensation of having a mighty hunk of phlegm that I couldn't expectorate. I swear to God, one shot leaves you panting and swallowing your own bile.

Think I'm overreacting? Check out this review.

In short, if the entire Third World could be distilled, it would taste like Jeppson's Malört. Leprosy, child prostitution, kwashiorkor, dirt, one billion cheesy bare feet, slash and burn agriculture, zealotry, foul body odor and raw sewage - it's all in there.*

* I was initially going to compare it to the Nazi concentration camps, but thought it might be too provocative and bombastic. In retrospect, the comparison is totally valid. This stuff is an atrocity. Try for yourself. I Double Dog Dare you, mbitches.