I love Captain Morgan and Diet Coke, aka “Skinny Pirates.”
Like love too much love.
Drink like water love.
Get the picture?
Named many years ago by my cousin Tballs (and long before the recent besiege of ‘skinny’ cocktails – we could have been millionaires – FUCK!), this spicy spirit has been by my side like a true Captain steering a ship. I can always count on its comforts, whether I’m coving out in the Lake of the Ozarks, tailgating at a Titans game or feeling sorry for myself in the depths of my so-called despair, wearing prescription sunglasses inside my apartment, smoking cigarettes out the sliding glass door, wearing only candy cane underwear in August (don’t judge). What I’m trying to convey is my love for this rum. And before you start sending me contact information on certain meetings, I will remind you that the liver is a self-regenerating organ and I could never abandon my Skinny Pirates after all they’ve done for me.