Johnnie Walker acts like he's your friend. He's all like, "C'mon and hang out, have some whisky. I'll even let you try the ultra expensive, fancypants blue label." And you're all like, "Awesome! Johnnie's the fucking man!" So you show up, and you wait on line for a while:
And the door keeps opening, and every time it opens, you're like "Johnnie?" but it's always some bouncer guy who doesn't let you in. And eventually, some other guy comes out with a box, and he's all like, "Sorry, dude, we're all full up with people who are on a real list. Not some fakey list where you gave us your personal info on the InterWeb. Peace out, homey, have a hat." And you take the hat, because, really, what else can you do? But you're thinking: "This hat is red. I wonder if the people inside are wearing fancy blue hats." And you resent it, but you know that the next time he sends you an e-mail, you'll come running, because the prospect of free whisky is just too enticing. Plus, bullshitting while waiting on the line with your real friends (Ya hear that, Johnnie!?) was kind of fun. But you'll still hate yourself in the morning.