The Edge Needs to Stop Being A Dick about Getting Iced
LISTEN, YOU SKULL-CAP WEARING MOTHERFUCKER, it's not a hard concept to understand. I hand you a bottle of Smirnoff Ice, you take a knee and drink it. Whenever and wherever I give it to you. No excuses.
You can't swap it out for a nice single malt. No goddamn substitutions or changes to the rules. Don't give me that shit about it tasting nasty. You're not the only one who thinks it tastes nasty. Everybody knows it tastes nasty. That's why it's funny. We're not giving you a pleasant beverage to enjoy out of the goodness of our hearts.
Come the fuck on, bro. You're not drinking. You're not demonstrating your willingness to look like a dick for the amusement of your bros. That’s why there’s a pose. You drop to one knee to drink it, like an old-timey Italian opera singer or an American football player in a huddle. Usually, most of my bros get the second example first, but you being a Euro-penis and all, I thought I'd throw out the girly opera shit.
It's not supposed to be pleasant. It's supposed to be funny and a sign that you're not some emo Achtung crybaby. You are supposed to suffer the beverage while struggling to maintain your composure and your dignity. And, since you haven't had a change of facial expressions in 35 fucking years, it would be killer funny. The liquor would slosh all over your face, making that stupid goatee of yours all sticky.
Seriously, shut the fuck up for a second. You're able to clam up when that Bono dude's all "Blah blah blah save African children and whatever" and you pull this chatty bullshit when I try to explain the rules of a socially embarrassing drinking game? Really?
Why do you have to do it? Why? I know there's no Ice Police or whatever. Nobody's really, like, enforcing it, and there's technically no penalty if you don't do it.
Except, of course, that me and all your other bros will never stop calling you a pussy. Seriously. Daniel motherfucking Lanois told me he was going to start calling you "The Bitch" instead of The Edge.
Look, it's bad enough that I'm bros with the dude who wrote that girly "With or Without You" bullshit. OK, sure. That "Vertigo" song was the tits. But it doesn't change the fact that I have a bottle of Smirnoff ice going un-drunk by a certain Grammy winner.
You could be meeting with Bill Gates and the fucking Pope about cell phone app targeting starving people in Brazil. If I pop out a Smirnoff ice, you kneel and drink it. You could be shopping for vintage delay pedals in Berlin. If I hand you a Smirnoff Ice, you take a goddamn knee and chug that shit. If Jimmy Page is recalling an anecdote he told you on the set of "It Might Get Loud," you get on your knee and drink up.
And don't give me any more "I'm in one of the biggest bands in the world" bullshit. Jesus Christ. Sting wasn’t even half as much a pussy about this.
Oh, sorry. Totes forgot. There is a way to get out of it. If I pull out a Smirnoff Ice, and you pull out one, too, I, the person who first pulled out the Smirnoff Ice has to drink both bottles.
Sorry, Edge-Bro. My bad.