White Lightnin’ Challenge

Nate Cope, Life and Style

Jiles is an S.O.B!!! Writing a life and style column is no easy task for someone whose wardrobe assemblage consists primarily of thrift store finds.  After much foot dragging on my part, and repeated threats of an assignment, Jiles appeared at my front door on a Friday evening.  Had I known what I know now, I’d have preferred if he’d left a flaming bag of dogshit on my stoop and run off.  Clutching a small brown bag he simply handed it to me and walked away, “review due Monday.”  Balls, both at the inconvenience of working for this tire fire shit excuse for a journalistic outlet, and at the contents of the bag.  He knows me all too well, my weakness, my Achilles heel; booze.  This wasn’t just any booze.  Oh no. Platte Valley, 100% Straight Corn Whiskey. 


Eighty proof. I drink 80 proof for breakfast; this is gonna be a cinch.  Fast forward, as I write this with pounding head and the taste of vomit in my mouth, heed this warning: “The proof or absolute volume on the bottle should never be used as an indicator of how fast or how much of something you can drink.”  Rewind: 80 proof, I was impressed by the small hillbillyish jug.  “This is gonna be sweet, I can put my Conway Twitty CD on and bring my inner redneck full circle,” I thought.

I pulled the cork (yes, a corked jug) and took a swig.  Immediately, my gag and cringe reflexes combined to perform some sort of strange, involuntary, simultaneous coughing/jerking motion.  Well this shit is leaded. Ok, one more for posterity.  Much better prepared this time, I was able to somewhat analyze what was going on in my palate.  There was a bit of a sweetness, but there was nothing smooth about any part of this stuff, even after being aged three years.  Ok review complete, time to jump on the back of this tiger.


Certain spirits possess a strange attribute in that their alcohol content does not accurately reflect their potential to fuck you up. Absinthe and true Korean Shochu are super good examples.  Well friends, I can now add Platte Valley Straight Corn Whiskey to this column of death spirits.  Four shots in I began to feel more on drugs and less drunk, uh oh.  Had the bottle not been sealed I would have thought that Jiles had drugged me.  I may very well have been under that assumption, as I sent him a string of expletives on the old iphone, to which he responded with a single love you too heart emoji; bastard.  At any rate, all that remains is an empty jug (I may have poured a bunch down the drain in a desperate attempt at penance), messes of angry Facebook messages to an ex-girlfriend, and some thawed chicken nuggets in the toaster oven who never got the glory of being heated.  Friends, I usually view liquors such as this as a novelty, as people buy them once just to try. Well, there’s a reason that people first started drinking this stuff and there’s no novelty when it comes to the shine, in actuality this stuff should be taken very seriously. 

Final Verdict on Platte Valley 100% Straight Corn Whiskey: DANGEROUS!