I Can't Believe It's Not Paint Thinner Vol. 3

To many indigenous North American cultures, the Thunderbird is mythical creature, a bird of unparalleled strength. Legend had it that the bird was so powerful, its wings flapping caused the thunder. To us, it's a strong white wine that hopefully won't cause any thunder in our intestines. Its label calls it 'The American Classic.'

Jeff Guntzel: It looks like urine of a very well hydrated person.

Everybody takes a drink.

Jessica Armbruster: This is hands down the worst.

Nate Patrin: I feel like I was punched in the face with a Greyhound bus depot.

Ward Rubrecht: This is fine. It's just bad red... Er... white wine.

JG: I don't think I can have any more.

JA: I just broke my flip flop.

Ben Palosaari: I feel something weird in my head, like it's rushing into my eyeballs.

JA: Didn't they used to market this to Europeans? 'Try drinking this, fuckers!'

JG: I'm going to dump this on the sponge in the kitchen and see it makes it smell any better.

WR: You guys are pussies.

BP: The taste in your nose afterward... Like syrup or something. Don't exhale it while swallowing... It's the worst.

NP: I'll do it. (gags)

WR: you guys are fat fucking wusses. And you clearly don't have a sweet tooth.

JA: It's white so it should be paired with chicken or seafood.

NP: OK, so McNuggets or Filet-o-Fish.


BP: You're fucked up... That is just sick... Do you want more?

WR: No.

BP: Oh, you like it, but you don't want more?

WR: I'll just start drinking the Old Crow whiskey in my backpack.

Nate leaves, and returns with cake.

Ward leaves, returns with a flask, takes pull.

Thunderbird "citrus wine with natural flavors" came in a 750 ml bottle and cost $4.99

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