1965 Antique Bourbon six year, the only redeeming attribute is time.

No one cares. I just want to get vaccinated.

Here’s a Don Draper airplane mini of 1965 Antique six year. People love to fetishize and retcon old bourbon quality like somehow over time producers forgot how or make worse bourbon now. It’s that spice of inaccessibility that gets any hobbyist nipples lactating because it validates all the stupid money and time spent finding purpose in a futile endeavor.

Eagle Rare is better than most things from the past and it sits at grocery stores. Case in point, some Seagrams juice from the LBJ era. The nose is heavy on the iodine and children’s aspirin. A touch of printer toner cartridge and menthol comes through. The taste has none of that and drinks like a watery, tame, completely forgettable mixer bourbon like Ancient Age.

But what did you expect? Time in the glass to transmogrify this? Imagine being on a boring commuter flight in 1965 and some guy tucks some Janky bourbon away declaring he will savor this 56 years later. You’d probably put out your cigarette in the arm ashtray immediately. It’s fine. It feels like eating a vintage comic book. No one else can enjoy it now and the only novel aspect of time has been consumed, as time consumes us all. The turbines spin endlessly, jet lagging us all until we reach our final destination.

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