We all know what a disaster Twitter can be at times.
In another world, you have Facebook. A cesspool, in many ways, but also a place where you can find some good laughs. Our Facebook page is approaching 1.8M followers which means moms will accidentally and inevitably stumble upon it, DMing it questions like “Hello Kmart, I can’t find my grandson.”
We got this one Monday night, and you can definitely understand the mix-up between Whiskey Riff and Airbnb…
Never a dull moment on the Facebooks.
By the way, Instagram is the champ of DMs. We got thousands every week, mostly puppy pics, outdoors stuff and fans showing off shop gear (appreciate ya).
But, Facebook is a different animal. This is one of our hottest new items and quickly becoming one of our best-sellers in the shop…
People are loving it. Our goal with this shirt was to create the ultimate spring and summer drinking/concert tee, and the response have been overwhelming.
However, there have been a couple confused folks dropping by those Facebook DMs – Barbara and Deb.
Each had a similar question:
“What does ’90s country fcks mean?”
Barb, Deb…here you go.
One of the great scenes in show history (Silicon Valley) lives on to this day – you just add “fucks” to the end of many phrases or sentences and it makes everything better. In my situation, I was throwing back a couple 12 Coors Banquets, watching the sunset over the mountains in Colorado with my dog. Then I put on Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, Jo Dee, and more. Then I was drunk with my dog, listening to ’90s country with the sun fully set. Then I took an edible. Then I had the perfect buzz in more ways than one, heard every leaf talking and breathing, looked at my dog as that opening RIFF of “Chattahoochee” hit like the sledgehammer it is…
I turned to my dog and either in my head or out loud (not sure), said “90s COUNTRY FUCKS.”