Purple Jesus

I wonder already, how many of you know what I’m talking about, and how many are just shaking your heads, confused and wondering.  Did you ever go to college or university?  Did you ever get really wasted on booze?  Did these two things happen more or less in conjunction?  Chances are, you know about Purple Jesus.

Purple Jesus is the drink of choice for those who want to be a little more upscale than those who merely swill beer.  It’s the all-you-can-drink buffet served by folks who want to throw a party you won’t remember.  There’s supposed to be a recipe for it.  One bottle of Rye, one bottle of rum, one bottle of gin, and one bottle of pure, unflavored alcohol.  All “bottles” are 26ers in Canada, and fifths in the USA.  For each bottle added to the communal pot, a 48 ounce can of Welch’s Grape Juice is stirred in.

In practice, it includes whatever the BYOB guests bring.  It all gets covered by the taste of the grape juice anyway.  At the party I attended, the mixing was done in a huge canning kettle.  With two universities and a large Community College in town, there are tales of bathtubs in the students dorms, stained permanently purple.  Scrub and rinse the tub, put in a new stopper, and you’re ready to party.

The little bash I attended was supposed to be a lease-breaking party.  Two friends had signed a year’s lease, but wanted to move to a handier location after eight months.  The landlord wouldn’t let them sub-let, and didn’t want to be bothered screening a new tenant, hence, The Party.

Newly married, the wife and I arrived on-time, to find the shindig already under way.  All chairs and sofas were full, so we wound up sitting on a couple of cushions on the floor.  A short while later, we were joined by a hippie couple and their male, deodorized, pet skunk.  Cute little fellow, (the skunk) friendlier than any cat.

All of us sucked back the PJ, except the hippies; they toked up and added a contact high to the room.  They lived on the seventh floor of another apartment building, and the next day, the skunk committed suicide by walking off the balcony, or so they claimed.  Poor thing, probably thought it could fly.

Our hostess served each of us a twelve-ounce glass of this witch’s-brew, as we sat on the cushions.  The stuff goes down like Kool-Aid.  Twenty minutes later, my glass was empty.  I went to stand up to get a refill, but the hostess told me to sit, and got it for me.  Twenty minutes later, my glass was empty, again!  With no hostess in sight, I lithely arose….and apparently an earthquake tipped the building.  Holy S**t, I think I’ll just collapse sit here and coast for a while.

The party was in the middle of February, but with that many people, the doors to the snow-covered balcony were left open.  The first glass you get with the ladle.  Perhaps the second glass you get, you use the ladle.  By the third glass….ah, t’hell widdit, just dip the glass into the pot, and get grape-coated fingers.

One of the partiers did this, and then stepped out for some fresh air.  Seeing the humor potential only a drunkaholic would, he grabbed a small handful of snow, and tossed it at one of his friends.  At least it struck the wall in the same room.  The person splattered by the ricochet got up, went to the kitchen, dipped out another glassful of the magical elixir by hand, grabbed some snow, and tried to return the favor.  Soon, it looked like a pie-fight in one of the Three Stooges movies.

When the gaiety subsided because everyone was out of breath, the walls were decorated with dozens of little purple exclamation points.  The grape-encrusted snow had hit the walls, melted and run down, leaving purple tracks.  Maybe my ears were anesthetized, I didn’t think the noise level got too high.  The next day, the landlord came up to complain, and saw all the marks on the wall.  It cost them the price of repainting the room, but they got their wish.  They were out by the end of the month.

Ah, the good old days, when we were invulnerable.  Now, if I have a second small glass of Pepsi, I pay for it the next day.  Never *regular* partiers, both the wife and I cut back when we got married.  Did any of you party hardy when you were young and foolish?  Are you foolish enough to think you still can?  KayJai and her booze-cruise buddies need not respond to this poll.  They are exempt from self-incrimination.

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27 thoughts on “Purple Jesus

  1. whiteladyinthehood says:

    I giggled all the way through this, Archon. You painted a very vivid picture! (My older sister was a hippie, you may have inspired a post for me to write) What you call Purple Jesus, we called PGA Punch…and it was indeed some potent stuff!

    Like

    • Archon's Den says:

      Glad to be of inspiration. I haven’t heard it called anything in a long time, but I have never heard of PGA Punch. I wonder if Bing or Google have. 😕

      Like

      • Archon's Den says:

        Yeah, Bing did. Mine’s called Purple because of all the grape juice. PGA stands for pure grain alcohol – the unflavored stuff mentioned above. Yours is supposed to have tropical fruit, and fruit punch. Probably about the same kick though. 😉

        Like

    • whiteladyinthehood says:

      I’m sorry, Archon – I don’t get anybody’s reply comments – none – zippo – zilch….or I would have told you PGA stood for pure grain alcohol (I just kinda figure you know everything – seriously)…and you’re right, a bottle of this paint thinner, a couple cans of red punch (or grape juice, I’ve had it both ways) and sliced fruit. The fruit would absorb the alcohol, so if the punch bowl made it to the bottom (and you were still standing and the cops hadn’t showed up yet) you were supposed to eat the fruit….

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      • Archon's Den says:

        I thought it was what Tiger Woods and his friends drank after a round. I do have a lot of useless trivia rattling around in my head, but, for what I don’t know, enlightenment is only a click away. Sorry about your electronic failings. I noticed a similar quote on BrainRants’ site.

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  2. Jim Wheeler says:

    This post reminded me, Archon, of my favorite liquor-based quotation:

    “One martini is alright, two is too many, three is not enough.” – James Thurber

    When I was in “college” I was a Midshipman and alcohol was as strictly forbidden there as it has been on U.S. Navy ships for more than two centuries. However, hard drinking while outside the limits of the Academy grounds was not only acceptable but practically demanded. The common, unofficial humorous wisdom was that after an away-football game if we saw a shipmate passed out from too much celebration, the thing to do was to turn him face-down so his uniform buttons wouldn’t show and disgrace us to the public. Ha ha.

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  3. Sightsnbytes says:

    Back in my post divorce days I drank quite heavily. Trouble was that I always thought I could drink more, which I couldn’t and ended up getting sick. My poison was Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. While primarily a Crown Royal Canadian Whiskey drinker, my first taste of Spice rum had me hooked. I drank three quarters of a 26, and then the crowd at the house made up their minds to go to the local dance bar, to meet girls. Of course I was going to, but first I had to tie my shoes, which I couldn’t. Before leaving the house I went to the bathroom and fell asleep in the tub. Thank God those days are over! nice post,

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    • Archon's Den says:

      I got sick on beer as a teen, and it took me years to get back to it. I got sick on Rye, but I’ve never been able to drink it again. I appreciate the smell of good whiskey. I just can’t swallow it. A little alcohol goes a long way with me. I keep consumption down to avoid visits BY police, or TO hospitals. Glad I could remind you of the Good Old Days. 😈

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  4. I just figured “Purple Jesus” was some lurid name for a male’s … um … never mind.
    Oh, heck yeah, I used to party my brains out. Friday night Dungeons & Dragons sessions. A 12-pack of Michelob to kill the taste buds, and a couple cases of whatever radiator-drainings were on sale that week. Start gaming between 4 and 8pm, depending on classes and desire to go to them, break around 11pm for weed for those partaking, break again around 1am to watch the athletic young lady in the back apartment building … “exercise” … with the man-du-jour, then back to gaming until the last two people mutually decided to pass out. One fella was a complete screw-up while sober, but after a couple six-packs and joints, he turned into freakin’ Patton!
    I’d say great memories – but a number of them got pickled en route to the memory bank….. 😉

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    • Archon's Den says:

      And here I thought you had Friday nights set aside for prayer meeting, and then choir practice. I’m appalled….that I didn’t have a chance to join you. Perhaps your friend was similar to me. I put up a post last April 27, titled “Better Living With Beer” that showed why I do better with a few drinks in me. Feeling better? I need to come and e-visit. 😀

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      • Not much new on the e-homefront. Been slackin’ off for the past few weeks. I need to do some writing, get some more of my wonderful life stories down on paper. (Screen? Bits? Hard drive? Whatever!)
        I think it was my D&D crew that first identified my tendency towards the introspective morose when drunk. I seem to remember it being more fun when I was sober – but then again, there were a lot of sessions I just plain flat don’t remember! 😀

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  5. aFrankAngle says:

    Well now … quite the event, but I’m most impressed that you remembered it and are able to recollect it after many years. 😉 …. Minded me of a gin-lemon-7 party that led to to pray to the porcelain god …. and I haven’t drank gin since that night. … and I can still hear Phil saying, “Move your head Frank, I gotta go.”

    Like

    • Archon's Den says:

      Some of us learn from the Great God Alcohol. Some of us learn to embrace him. You apparently learned to appreciate decent wine instead of guzzling grappa. Purple streaks on a beige wall – AND a pet skunk??! I’d have had to be a lot wasted-er than I was, to forget that.

      Like

      • aFrankAngle says:

        LOL … you mentioned grappa. My 2nd cousin gave me a bottle as a departing trip. Interestingly, he makes his own … which was unbelievably smooth.

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  6. Uh…yeah. Our exploits are permanently documented…especially by the crew on board the November to Remember Escapade into Oblivion. Epic…just epic.

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  7. […] That’s what popped into my head today.  That and the entire lyrics to “I’m Not Afraid” by Eminem.  I think they both have stuff in common…I’m not about to go into an in-depth analysis of the song, but aside from the copious amounts of swearing (which is always near and dear to ma heart), the song talks about getting his life back together, and becoming clean….yaddah, yaddah, yaddah….yeah, whatevs.  I’m not sure why it mysteriously came flowing into my mind today.  I’m not currently strung out on meth or battling my inane addiction to vicks vapo rub or eating copious quantities of laundry detergent that I need some rapper dude to sing this in hopes it will turn my wayward behavior into more appropriately streamlined society-approved activities.  ‘Cause we all know the power of a song.  Remember Elton’s Crocodile Rock?  Sent a myriad of teens out wading around croc-infested waters seeing if those suckers would dance.  Crazy teenagers.   Left a whole population limbless and wondering what could have possibly gone wrong?  Yeah.  Back off the demon music, kids.  The Devil wants you all dancing his evil dance and drinking his purple koolaid. […]

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    • Archon's Den says:

      Not familiar with “I’m Not Afraid” because I’m not too thrilled with Eminem, but that’s what lyrics.com, or You-tube is for. Dump the laundry detergent in the washer, and try “bath salts”. Some of the *kids are going to Hell* quotes are over 2000 years old, yet here we are. Evil is in the eye of the beholder, not the hearts of those being judged. I drank the Devil’s purple koolaid, and I turned out alrigh…..I’ll get back to you on this.

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  8. Sightsnbytes says:

    At a friend’s bachelor party, I drank home brew mixed with tang. The result was a long walk home with two left size seven boots (I wear a ten) and a three foot stick of maple leaf baloney (bologna to the rest of the world) under my arm. I tried to eat the entire baloney, never made it past the wax shell. God I am glad I saw the light and stopped drinking…but it was fun while it lasted

    Like

  9. benzeknees says:

    I nominated you for a couple awards, I hope you can find the time to pass them on. http://benzeknees.wordpress.com/2013/03/06/they-got-me-again/

    Like

    • Archon's Den says:

      Thanx Benze. By the time I published my 100th post, four of them had been for various awards. As I near my second hundred posts, I was thinking of starting a draft, but would not have any new awards to make fun of/with. This should prime the humour pump. Now I’m off to see what you’ve inflicted me with. A couple??! Ooh, aah. 😀

      Like

  10. Smaktakula says:

    We called it “Jungle Juice.” Purple Jesus is an awesome name, but it does remind me creepily of Michael Jackson’s “Jesus Juice.”

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    • Archon's Den says:

      Welcome back, Smak! Long time, no comment. Of course, that goes both ways. I guess every area had its own version of this memory-eraser. Towards the end, just about everything about Mikey was creepy.

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  11. I’ve been saving this in my in-box because I knew it would be a great one! I did know what Purple Jesus is, but I’ve never tried it. What we had was cherry Kool-aid mixed with grain alchohol, in a huge 33 gallon garbage can. Very tasty. Very hard to tell you’re drinking booze until stand up. Like your experience, one second you’re sober and the next you’re drunk, or so it seems. At this point I get pretty tipsy off of one drink, and I wouldn’t be caught dead scooping booze out of a garbage can with a red plastic cup. But I do remember those “good old” days 🙂

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  12. We just called it Trashcan Punch. And yes, sometimes it was made in a trashcan, but usually we just used whatever big-ass container we could find…

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    • Archon's Den says:

      Almost everyone has partied with some version of this Monster Mix. It just gets called by different names. Tell me it was a new, clean trashcan…. Oh well, alcohol is a disinfectant. I attended several parties I can’t quite remember, but this was the only fuelled by this particular rocket fuel. 😯

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