Crown royal northern harvest rye
My grandfather is a very wise man. I can still remember the one day when I was playing in his garden when I was six and he slowly approached me, knelt down and put one hand on my shoulder. He looked me right in the eyes and said ‘Gary, I’m going inside to fuck your grandmother.’ As he stood up and sauntered off I thought to myself, ‘motherfucker.’
Motherfucker is a homonym, which I learned in school. I also learned the word motherfucker at school too, just in a different setting. You see, motherfucker means to fuck somebody’s mother, which back in those days when i was six, I still thought fucking was two people jumping on each other until somebody got peed on. clothing; optional.
Pretty soon, as my child grows to become an acne covered, compulsively masturbating, angry regret, he too will one day turn to me and label me a motherfucker out of sheer rage, which will be fine because my response will be ‘oh yeah? Well guess what bud, I fucked your mom!’
But all casual verbal abuse jokes aside, the word motherfucker also serves us with another meaning, which translates the word into a hefty insult. To call somebody or a situation a motherfucker, doesn’t always mean the person you’re insulting had inserted his penis somewhere in your mother, it just means some brutal insult. Now, pay attention here:
Galactus is a motherfucker.
You see, galactus didn’t even start out as galactus; he was just some motherfuckin dude from some motherfictional planet that sacrificed his body to the big bang, in which he was decimated and instantly reincarnated as a ball of light energy, riding a spaceship(hey, don’t look at me, I’m just retelling the story). when the big bang happened, stars, planets and moons were created, an entire universe sprung into existence and flung not-yet-galactus and his ride to a nearby planet, where he rested as a ball of energy, in a spaceship. The whole thing took thousands of years. Eventually his resting spot was disrupted and he and his spaceship were flung back into space, where he happened to get sucked into another orbit, and then crashed onto a different planet called archeopia, which just so happened to be engulfed by galaxy-wide civil war. The interstellar equivalent of the village idiot, the space-race that was warring with the archeopians decided to shoot the freshly crashed spaceship.
The attack wasn’t all that great an idea. When galactus realized that he still had two payments to make on his spaceship and realized how badly scratched it was, he got out of his vehicle and decided to expend his high energy to take a form of a 4,000 foot tall human wearing a stupid looking purple helmet and dick-tight pants and literally devoured every living thing on the planet by a method which is essentially melting the living into a liquid and chugging it.
Galactus devoured every living being on the planet, and now galactus has formed a bit of a sweet tooth, and by sweets I mean anything alive. He scours the universe sourcing out planets to suck out its energy to feed upon, to fuel him. At first he seeks out uninhabited planets, but soon moves on to planets with creatures of any sort living on it to satisfy his hunger. His feedings become much more rapid as his hunger grows.
Galactus thinks he’s doing the right thing; he considers himself a higher being than what he eats and he legitimately thinks he will create more with his energy than he consumes, but really, he doesn’t create much, so far just one solar system sized spaceship for him to cruise around in pumping bass heavy edm and catcalling chicks. Oh! and he created a huge weapon. What a motherfucker.
So he’s just flying around space, drinking planet wide civilizations, and at some point galactus eats so many planets and living creatures he comes down with a case of interstellar indigestion, or his space-shits turned a ‘milky way’, which incapacitates him for millennia. In order to get over his upset tummy, he disperses his form into light energy again and rests for thousands of years. As stars, or something.
Not much happens for a while…
After getting over his intergalactic diarrhea, galactus reforms, scrubs his toilet and gets back to business. Galactus is always hungry; he’s always seeking out new planets to consume. Nothing is ever enough and he always needs to eat, so he has strength to defend himself when he tries to eat the next inhabited planets. Although, one day, he happened to stumble up this inhabited planet and just as he was getting ready to melt an entire planet into a screaming, horrified smoothie, a man approached galactus.
‘stop!’ the man begged. ‘I will sacrifice myself to you and find other planets for you if you just leave my home planet alone. Like, that one, over there, those assholes that neighbor our planet.’ He pointed to his left.
Galactus looked down, ‘who are you?’ he asked.
‘my name is norrin radd.’ The man explained.
‘well, prepare to die…. Wh- wait. What? norrin radd?’ galactus asked.
‘yes.’ The man retorted, confused.
‘that’s the most badass name I ever fuckin heard man! I mean, I knew this dude named rippin fresh, but I ate him and his entire race, but you, I have the perfect job for you. It’s totally rad!’
‘hey, uhh, can you stop yelling please?’ norrin radd asked.
‘I’m not yelling.’ Returned galactus.
‘yeah, it’s like, you’re uhh, like 3,000 feet tall and even though-‘
‘4,000 feet tall!’ galactus defended.
‘yeah, so, you’re 4,000 feet tall(galactus nodded) and even when you talk normal, it’s still pretty loud and my kids sleeping and, and my wife has to work in the morning and, you know, its loud.’
‘look, norrin, just hop in my hand if you want the job. ‘
Norrin jumped into the hand of galactus and he used all his power to turn norrin into his galactus’ new bff, the silver surfer(Which, I’m quite sure having your living flesh transmuted into some alchemic mineralized freak must be at least a little painful). The silver surfer shredded different solar systems and galaxies searching out planets on his silver coated santa cruz board for galactus to eat. The thing is, silver surfer always lead galactus away from earth.
‘hey man, ‘ galactus would say. ‘why don’t we go try that one?’
‘no, no.’ the silver surfer would tell him. ‘everytime you go down to eat earth, you always get your ass kicked. That planet’s where all the really tough motherfuckers hang out. You know, wolverine, Cyclops, mysterio, the hulk, the fantastic four…’
‘oh yeah, I like those guys… I wanna hold your haaand…’ galactus would sing.
‘the FANTASTIC four, dummy, the punisher, ant man….’ Silver surfer continued.
‘batman?’ galactus asked.
‘who? Never heard of him. must not be important to anybody. Ever. Don’t you remember that one time all those dudes were zombies and you were ripped to shreds?’ silver surfer questioned galactus.
Yeah, that was weird. remember how they just turned out to be normal again a couple months later?’ galactus shook his head in confusion. ‘well,’ galactus started, ‘im gonna go crush that planet that you call earth. I’ll be back in a bit.’
And with that, galactus traveled to earth to consume everybody living on it. but it turns out silver surfer was pretty sick of galactus’ shit and didn’t want to continue pipeshredding agro space curls for such a gnarly fuckin sketchbag. With that, the silver surfer joined up with the fantastic four and stole galactus’ home made super weapon, the ‘ultimate nullifier’ and turned it on galactus, which blew him to shreds. Far out, man.
‘you… motherfucker.’ Galactus said with his last breath.
This isn’t the real death of galactus though. Galactus is resurrected and defeated many more times, mostly by earthlings. The thing is, how this story transitions into a whisky review is right here: galactus is one person who has a large presence, and he sees himself as superior, and people are mostly happy to follow his word and become a disciple of his actions. He is only one person who can be heard throughout and has a gigantic grasp on the universe. Because of the size and scale of his energy, Galactus does finally make a fatal mistake and when he does, he dies and creates the next big bang, creating stars, planets and moons. In transition, one person that has a stranglehold on the world of whisky writing said that crown royal northern harvest rye is the best in the world, which is his fatal mistake. The writer who made crown royal northern harvest rye a worldwide phenomenon is known to destroy brands from his actions, and create life for some with his opinions, just as galactus did with his expendable energy. When jim murray, the man to name nhr best in the world made his mistake, he subsequently created a team of writers who banded together despite differences and they brought attention to the public to say jim murray is a motherfucker. He writes books for money, not for reliability.
When a group of reviewers got together to form a democracy to state the best Canadian of the year 2015, it wasn’t crowns nhr. Matter of fact, when you take the average score of crown royal northern harvest rye from the rest of the worlds whisky writers, you get a respectable score of around 81 – 85 out of a possible 100.
typical crown bottle used for many expressions. This is of no exception. The label is a dusty camel colour rimmed with the same hunter green or emerald green that somehow signifies a straight rye type of whisky, that many whisky producers are using.
First whiff reveals some medicinal rye and heavily charred barrels. Later, some cherry candies, coconut shavings and orange peel show off for the fruits. Slight caraway, rye grain and some motor oil. Some rubber and sweet vanilla custard. Some American rye qualities like foamy banana with heavy wood influence and a touch of isopropryl sitting in the background. The nose seems to depend on fruity rye rather than a hard, grainy rye.
Decent viscosity with a ton of spicy orange, creamy banana and some bright red fruits. Brown spice mix found in spice cake. Very smooth finish with vanilla fudge and black pepper hanging on to a long exit, finishing on oak and citrus pith.
This bottle deserves a very sound score around the mid 80’s.
Crown royal is known for being a tasty blend of roughly 50 different whiskies all blended to create a harmony, in which we recognize as crown royal deluxe. Its on every bar shelf you’ve ever seen.
With crown royal northern harvest rye, this blend is focused on one component of the usual ‘deluxe’ blend; it is a column still derived rye grain whisky that makes up 90% of this blend.
The rye grain used to create this whisky is commonly known to have been introduced from german settlers, who added a little rye to their wheat whisky. planted in the fall and as a seedling, must endure typical harsh Canadian winter and grow to face a drought like summer. All this extreme treatment of the crop leads to a very concentrated rye grain, which lends itself to a very flavourfull rye whisky.
Due to the hype received from jim murrays whisky bible, this whisky is being bought up instantly; skids of product are being bought up in minutes and the bottles are selling for gigantic profit on the legal and illegal secondary markets.