So I’m trying something new. I joined a social ranting site today called WriteBite. I’m posting my rant here, and on WriteBite, and we’ll see what happens. You could go vote for my rant if you wanted.

So what’s the sickest thing you ever put in your mouth? Wait, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. I’ll tell you about the nastiest thing I ever put in my mouth, and I’m not talking about that fat chick with the herpes and the hygiene problems. I’m talking about Talking Rain: Sparking Ice. Listen to the name again, it sounds lovely doesn’t it? Like a good mushroom trip, maybe it’s a drink based on a Native American Vision Quest.

Do you know what something with a name like Talking Rain: Sparking Ice should taste like? I’ll tell you, picture this, you’re on a mesa overlooking a vast vista untouched North American Wilderness, just you and your trusty steed, you’re surrounded by tall prairie grass and a cool breeze is blowing through your long black hair and feathers. A rain cloud appears and begins talking to you, singing to you in your native tongue, and just then, a spring opens up and this wonderful shimmering nectar of life begins to bubble up, it tastes like sweet fruit and inner peace.

Well, Talking Rain: Sparking Ice, taste just like that, except, instead of North America, it’s Japan, and the spring is made of rancid death, and taste like sadistic Japanese businessmen Bukkaking on your face, while the vengeful rain cloud curses you in German and pisses down your throat. I’m serious here, this shit is vile. Fuck water-boarding, if they had made the prisoners at Gitmo drink Talking Rain: Sparking Ice, not only would we know where Osama Bin Laden is hiding, they would have shipped him to us via Fed-Ex wrapped in a little red ribbon with a bow and everything.

Why does a drink this disgusting even exist? It only serves one possible purpose. There is only one way I could ever see someone wanting one of these. A guy walks into a bar and says: “Quick, I have a psychological disorder that causes me to drink my own piss, I need something that tastes a lot worse than my own day old luke-warm piss so that my piss will taste good by comparison.” The bartender hands him a Talking Rain: Sparking Ice and prays for his soul.