I still like the taste of it, but as I’ve gotten older, my body has become increasingly less fun and extreme. Before, drinking two Double Gulps in a day wasn’t no thang, and I could do beerbongs of Mountain Dew and Vodka (that’s called a Mount Doom, by the way) and not need an exorcist the next morning. Mountain Dew is basically neon super-sugar suspended in in caffeine-water, and sugar makes you fat, and sugary cocktails will give you worse hangovers.
I still think Mountain Dew is really fascinating from a cultural perspective. It went from being a whiskey mixer with cartoon hillbillies on the bottle, to the official drink of truck drivers and D&D-players, to the most extreme soda. Mountain Dew sponsored the original X-Games, which is somehow still a thing, almost twenty years later.
I’m a big loud idiot sometimes, and I tend to make stupid moist noises about things that excite me, but what might not always be apparent is that I put a lot of thought into why I like those things.
For example, Hawaiian shirts are funny to me because they’re colorful and maybe have flamingos on them, but they also represent what happens after “The American Dream” is fulfilled.
After all that hard work lands The Average American Joe a wife and kids and a sedan and a house with the picket fence, the calendar-postcard vacation with the pineapple drinks is what he works toward. He wants to visit an exotic locale in a tropical climate, but not one that’s too exotic, because then the wife and kids and sedan and house are at risk. So he goes somewhere the the trees are sort of different and the drinks are bright pink and have little umbrellas in them, and he buys this fucking shirt that’s the opposite of what he wears when he’s at work.
I dunno, Hawaiian Shirts are kinda depressing if you actually think about ‘em. But sometimes they have flamingos on them, which is hilarious to me, because there aren’t any fucking flamingos in Hawaii.
But yeah, Mountain Dew.
No this is my rocket-powered wheelbarrow full of curling irons.