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Let’s Do Fireball Shots! Bad Idea.

Let’s do Fireball! Yeah! Good idea! Here’s why three of your friends are going to be carrying your drunk ass home.


Its name brings a smile to the faces bar owners who see their profits rising when they hear one of their unsuspecting patrons say “let’s do some Fireball!”. Why do I say unsuspecting patrons? Because as they’ve driven Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey from being a relatively unknown product to one of the top-ten liquors in the US market, few have taken note of Fireball’s dark secret.

Just say no. (Image by Fluff CCbySA3.0)

As you read “Fireball’s dark secret”, you may have believed that I’d bring up that the beverage was taken off the shelves in some European countries because it contains excessive levels of the propylene glycol. Propylene glycol is a preservative that is also used as automotive anti-freeze and to de-ice airplanes. And while this whiskey has too much anti-freeze for some European nations, the level of the chemical in it is within acceptable limits here in the United States. Propylene glycol is not the secret.

Someone Is Going Down, Hard

The dark secret of Fireball is that as soon as it is ordered by a group of people in a bar you can be certain that one member of that group will likely be so intoxicated that they will be unable to continue the evening.

The only reasonable explanation for this happening would be that Fireball has a higher percentage of alcohol than other liquors. But it doesn’t. Since there is no reasonable explanation, I have to conclude that a bottle of Fireball is a bottle of evil. It is concentrated, liquid evil. How else do you explain a beverage with such a high casualty rate?

Four guys. Fireball will take one…but which one? (public domain)

And what of that casualty rate? Well, according to my research, Fireball Whiskey has a casualty rate of close to 25%. That kind of casualty rate would never be accepted in any other facet of life. A twenty-five percent chance you’ll actually drive yourself safely to work tomorrow? No, thank you. Twenty five percent chance that you’ll survive surgery? No way.

If You Can’t Attack The Message, Attack The Messenger

“You’re not a researcher”, Fireball’s defenders will cry, “you’re barely even a writer”.

Both of those things are true. But I assure you that I am a keen observer of my fellow man and I can tell you that in my research trips* to bars from Boston to Key West, I have seen the twenty-five percent casualty rate replicated over and over. If four friends are drinking, and one of them says “let’s do Fireball shots”, one of the four is destined for an earlier than planned bed time.

Don’t believe me? Start paying attention when you go out. When the Fireball starts flowing, I’m certain you’ll see that one of four people who consume it will do something very out of the ordinary, will injure themselves in some way, and/or will have to be taken home.

Fireball Chooses Its Victims At Random

Now, one of the tricky things about this liquid evil is that it is impossible to predict which person out of a group of four will fall victim to the curse of Fireball. There is no guarantee that the person who is most intoxicated before the cinnamon whiskey starts flowing will be the one being carried home by their friends. The only guarantees are that one of the four will be taken home early and, after they tuck their unfortunate friend in for the night, the other three will have a conversation that goes something like this :

Surviving friend #1: “What happened to him?”

#2: “I don’t know. He was fine, and then, he was singing “Having My Baby” and we had to go.”

#3: “It was right after we drank the Fireball. Do you think that had anything to do with it?”


#2: “Nah. Look at us. We’re OK.”

#3: “You’re right. Maybe he ate a bad clam.”

#1: “That’s it! I didn’t eat a clam. I’m fine! Stupid clams.”

And that is the other tricky thing about Fireball. Despite the obvious connection between its consumption and the impromptu performance of Having My Baby (or walking in to a tree, or waking up covered in blood, or…or…or…), none of those involved in drinking it can see that the liquid evil is the cause of their night coming to an end. No, there’s always a scapegoat…like bad clams.

My friends, we’re all adults here. We can drink whatever we want. We don’t have to drink Fireball just because someone else thinks we should. Peer pressure was a thing when we were thirteen.

We are not thirteen years old. Our friends are not the boss of us. One in four are going down.

Put down the shot glass and back away.

No one wants to hear “Having My Baby”.

If you do, it’s right here. You might want to do a shot first.

*Yes, they were research trips. Back off me, drunkard.



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About omawarisan (25 Articles)
Most who read my blog don't know me from the man in the moon. But they seem nice and I am, in fact, The Man In The Moon.

16 Comments on Let’s Do Fireball Shots! Bad Idea.

  1. I think you just did the opposite of discouraging people from drinking Fireball by hinting at the idea of a Russian roulette-style game based on Fireball whiskey.


    • No! Look away from that idea. Remember, if you are not the one who crashes and burns, you are one of the three who has to take that person home.


  2. Reblogged this on Blurt and commented:

    “Let’s do some Fireball!” Does that idea ever end well? Nope.

    No, it doesn’t. It means that someone, maybe you, maybe one of your friends, but someone in your group is going to bed early.

    Today’s post is over on Long Awkward Pause. Click over there to read about Fireball’s ridiculous casualty rate.


  3. Makes piggy note to *never* try a fireball of any sort, fashion or form – snorts! XOXO – Bacon


  4. That is frightening.


  5. This sounds like when a pack of 20something women hit a bar and say, “Jager shots! Woooo!” and you know there will be sex and vomit in their near future.


  6. oledphatnuglee // June 11, 2015 at 10:32 am //

    Gotcha, only drink fireball in groups of three or less. Eliminate the fourth and the problem is solved… no?


  7. I like cinnamon, but I can’t stand fireball. I think I’m the only one in the world. A little rumchata with it, does make it more tolerable.


  8. I think you have invented a new night out. Gather 3 of your friends and see who is the one. Oh! We could have a prize at the end, course the one wouldn’t really appreciate the prize till the next day… oh! unless it’s like a pretty, glittery puke bucket or a small pillow with “Fireball Fail” stitched on it so you know, they can pass out in comfort…or some such.


  9. Researcher // June 13, 2015 at 5:37 pm //

    Sissy! 😉 Fine. You can have a Jaegerbomb!


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