“ Martiny, you are now at an age in which you should know the truth about your origins…
“You are probably already aware that you are not like other Martinis. You’re shorter, tinier, and you only have room for one olive.
“What you are not aware of is why it is that you are different. The truth is, there is no such thing as a Martiny. My friend Caitlin conceived of you at a party one fateful night as a solution to my disorder. You see I love Martinis. I love them dry, straight up, a little dirty, and most importantly, I love them cold. The problem? Martinis don’t love me back. I have a fairly good tolerance to most alcohol, and have masterful pacing skills, but there is something about the sinister Martini that prevents me from being able to employ these skills.
With the first sip of the menacing Martini comes the belief that I am in fact invincible and can mix as many different types off booze as I want with little consequence. Red wine, white wine, bourbon, tequila, and beer, its all equal territory after I’ve had a martini or two. The sober reality however, is that I am not invincible, there is no equal territory, and there are unfortunately consequences (click here for more details, and here, and here)
“Now, I know that this is hard for you to hear, and perhaps even harder for you to understand. You have spent your entire existence being bullied.
“You are an outcast. Rejected, you have been forced to skate on the fringe of the elite and illustrious martini community to only now learn that it not your fault nor is it your weakness, it is mine.
“I only hope that with time you will come to terms with your anger and resentment and will understand that it is not easy to bear the weight of cutting-edge innovation, for it is both a blessing and a curse. With nothing other than good intentions did Caitlin first shouted out the word, “MARTINY!” And without malice were you poured from the shaker the very next day. I only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive my shameful handicap.”