Ramming A Mountain Into A Molehill

Morning… Man, I love that title.

I own a very very small part of a distillery somewhere in upstate New York.

I threw a little bit of dough at it maybe 10 or 15 years ago because my roommate from college was doing the same.  I thought at the very least it would give he and I a place where we could meet up once a year with our families and maybe do a harvest festival, or some shit.

As I said above, it’s been over a decade since my initial investment, and we still haven’t even been up there to visit, much less host a harvest party.  Apparently, my roommate and I aren’t quite as close as I assumed.

The reason I bring this up is whenever I think about what one thing this little company is missing, I always come back to the fact that it doesn’t have a celebrity backer.  George Clooney is probably the most recent example of what happens when a celeb hitches his train to the right booze at the right time.  That handsome cocksucker stumbled into a Casamigos tequila line that sold for $1 billion.

I know a billion dollar tequila line is lightning in a jar, but there are some second-tier celebs hawking some bottom shelf hooch, and I think they are also doing alright.

Case in point…

I fucking love that this exists.

You can just tell that Chazz is struggling not to say, “Stop being such a fucking pansy and buy a real vodka, you fucking little punk.”  But he had to settle for poking fun at cupcake flavored booze.

Here’s another example…

Ever hear of Icelandic Mountain Vodka?

Neither have I.

But apparently this swill is doing pretty well overseas, and credit for its success falls squarely on the broad shoulders of its spokesman Hafþór Björnsson, who plays “The Mountain” on HBO‘s Game of Thrones.

“Clear color. Creamy with confected aromas and flavors of spumoni, peach jam, and pistachio paste with a round, dryish medium-to-full body and a lychee and mint cream finish. A vodka full of character, body, and confection – balanced and unexpected.”- Is what the reviews say, but you know 90% of their sales come either from guys who pine for the good-old-days when Khaleesi was up for full-frontal… Or from the ladies who make their husbands wear Jon Snow wigs when they make love.


The reason I am writing this blog isn’t that I have an affinity for any of these products.  Truth be told, I have never tried Casamigos, BiVi, Icelandic Mountain, or even any of the products from the place I told you I had a small piece of.

I am also not the biggest Game of Thrones guy, even though I am amongst the millions anxiously waiting for the final season to give us The Cleganebowl—the showdown between brothers Sandor and Gregor Clegane, better known as The Hound and The (aforementioned) Mountain.


I bring all this shit up because seeing Hafþór Björnsson out of character made me do a deep dive into a question that immediately leaped into my mind as soon as I saw him… Does some poor woman actually fuck that guy?

The answer is yes… Some broad DOES fuck this guy, and she ain’t big.


He got married to blogger Kelly Henson in October of this year.


Björnsson is 6 feet 9 inches tall and his new fidget spinner is 5’2″.


And his bicep is bigger than her waist.


I like this picture above ^ because his back is so fucking big it seems like the sun gave up halfway trying to sunburn it… The fucking sun!


The couple plans on having kids of their own one day soon and Hafþór already has a tremendous daughter from a previous marriage (pictured below).


If you are looking to send a wedding gift to the newlyweds, candlesticks are always a nice idea… Or perhaps you can send poor Kelly a voucher for a much-needed episiotomy.

Take a report.