So, I was in this theory class over the summer. In one of the articles we read, this gray-bearded congressman quips something along the lines of, “I don’t really know what it is, but I know it’s bad.” Of course, this ‘bad thing’ he alludes to is pornography.

That’s right, porn.

Our mission: to figure out what these bad things are. You know, theorize and stuff.

I found myself in a similar situation not too long ago.

“Hey, fucker, take this shot of SoCo with me,” I say.

“SoCo? What even is SoCo,” the potential shot taker rebuffs.

“Hell if I know. All I know is that it tastes like bliss. It’s not fair.”

Down the hatch it goes. Delicious.

Oh no! I’ve been dreading this moment my entire life. My teachers were really onto something – this shit actually does have real life applications! Shit!

So let the theorizing begin.

I remember someone once told me that Southern Comfort was merely “caramel.” To tell the truth, I never really gave a fuck what was in it. All I knew was that I liked it enough that I wouldn’t be the least bit ashamed to sip it on ice with a Happy Meal and a smile – or with breakfast, or even with brunch. You get the idea. But I digress; I fear that my B in contemporary film theory might have plummeted to a C+ if I hadn’t properly investigated the inner workings of such a pleasant potion.

It was sometime around 1874 when M.W. Heron stumbled – presumably in a literal sense – upon his own whiskey concoction, which he labeled Southern Comfort. And as any true whiskey-swiller should, he served it straight out of the barrel.

In an attempt to further pad his wallet, Heron soon opened his own bar in Memphis, where he pawned off bottles for a meager $2.50 each.

Oh, sorry, let me pull my jaw off of the keyboard. Two fucking fifty? That’s simply amazing.

By 1904, SoCo solidified itself on the national stage, taking home the gold in the St. Louis World’s Fair for quality and taste. Soon thereafter, Heron conceived the “St. Louis Cocktail” – a glass of SoCo on ice with a twist of lemon. According to, Heron set a limit of two cocktails per customer because “no gentleman would ask for more.” At this point, I realized the obvious: I am not a gentleman.

By 1967, rock star Janis Joplin had adopted SoCo as her favorite alcoholic beverage.

That’s right, Janis-fucking-Joplin drank SoCo like it was water.

From what I hear, many doubt the versatility of my favorite caramel-laden whiskey. Critics say that it is just a shot drink. Those critics obviously haven’t been theorizing enough.

Has Captain Morgan ever had a movie made after him, matey? I don’t think so.

“Southern Comfort,” a 1981 classic – yes, I’m a film studies major, I have the authority to label whatever the hell I want a classic – was released, profiling the lives of National Guardsmen in an isolated Louisiana swamp that end up fighting for their lives. Sounds absolutely riveting. If anything, it has a hell of a name.

Did I mention that Michael Kane wrote it? That’s right, the Michael Kane. The same Michael Kane who wrote such classics as “Jaws 3-D” and “The Dirty Dozen: The Next Mission.”

SoCo inspired all of this. How many other liquors have such an illustrious r