The first booze I purchased was a short time after that. Tia Maria. Yeah I know, go figure.

Anyway, during my early adult years I used to go and see a lot of live music. Mostly The Lonely Boys. And because I was poor, beer was the cheapest choice available, but I’m super classy, so I would usually drink Heineken.

My mate Tom used to drink Jim Beam, and when I would go visit him he’d usually offer me some, but I thought it tasted like crushed ants (don’t ask me how I cam to this conclusion). I genuinely hated the stuff. But one night after a LOT of drinking I ran out of booze, and so it was either bourbon or nothing, so bourbon it was.

I cured myself of my bourbon dislike, and it has been my choice ever since. Jim Beam was the go-to, but I recall doing some experimenting when I lived with Tom. Beams Choice, Beam Black etc.

Later on I moved to Jack Daniels, and for the last two decades or so that has been my goto drink. That is until March 7, 2025 when I stumbled across a piece of news: Jack Daniels parent company (Brown Forman) has pulled out of the Human Rights Campaign annual Corporate Equality Index.

“Hastily abandoning efforts that ensure fair, safe, and inclusive work environments for LGBTQ+ people based on manufactured outrage from MAGA bullies is bad business and leaves their employees and millions of LGBTQ+ allied customers behind,” Eric Bloem, VP of programs and corporate advocacy at the Human Rights Campaign Foundation, said in the statement.

I consider myself someone who is one of those millions of LGBTQ+ allied customers, and so now I choose to no longer purchase Jack Daniels.

So that’s it. After twenty-odd years of loyalty, I’ve tipped my last Jack. It feels a bit strange, like breaking up with someone who’s been in your life for decades. We had some good times together — well, some hazy times, anyway — but I can’t in good conscience keep supporting a company that caves to pressure from the worst people on the internet.

Will they notice the absence of one middle-aged bloke in Melbourne not buying their booze anymore? Probably not. But it matters to me. If you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything, right?

And besides, bourbon isn’t a one-brand affair. There are plenty of other bottles out there ready to step up. So from here on, I’ll be looking for a new favourite. Maybe I’ll reconnect with old mate Jim Beam. Maybe I’ll explore something fancier. Maybe I’ll even go back to Tia Maria for old time’s sake (nah, who am I kidding).

The point is, Jack and I are done. It was fun while it lasted, but values beat brand loyalty every time.

And if you see me at the bar, don’t bother sending a Jack and Coke. I’ll be the bloke trying to figure out what the hell to drink next.

The post Jack Daniels  appeared first on Dave Hooper.

Steve, the owner, was new to the game. He and a bunch of his accountant mates had bought the place off a chain called Macs San Remo. I’d worked there under the old mob and stuck around as assistant manager.

The Smash-and-Grab

A few weeks before Christmas, some blokes decided they wanted in on our premium stock, the five-finger discount way. They drove a car straight through the front doors, hooked up a trailer, and loaded it with tens of thousands of dollars worth of grog.

The alarm went off, but they were quick. Still, a passing cop car heard the ruckus and gave chase. As the thieves tore across the train lines on Prospect Hill Road, all the booze went flying out of the trailer and smashed onto the bitumen. When I came in later, there was broken glass glittering across the road like some kind of drunk Christmas miracle. They never caught the blokes. Insurance paid out, but the shop was a mess.

The Lighting Saga

We decided better lighting out the front might stop the next smash-and-grab. Easy, right? Wrong. Council said, “Not our issue.” The electricity company said, “Not our issue either.” Council reckoned we could apply for a permit, might take months. The power mob said if it was approved, it’d cost thousands. Basically, two giant shrugs. Insurance was Steve’s headache. My job was dealing with council and the electricity company, which turned out to be like arguing with a brick wall.

Enter the Hero with a Truck

Most afternoons, a young bloke in his early twenties came in for a six-pack. Friendly chap, always up for a laugh. This day he rolled in driving a massive truck with an extension boom on it. I suddenly realised, he worked for the electricity company.

I told him our sob story: thieves, smashed doors, council run-around, ridiculous costs. He grinned and said, “Mate, I can sort it now… for a slab.”

Best bargain I’ve ever made. Fifteen minutes later, he’s up in the air fitting a floodlight that lit up the whole bloody street. No permits, no invoices, no bureaucratic nonsense. Just a slab of beer and a bloke with a truck.

The Punchline

The light cost me a slab, took fifteen minutes, and lit up the whole street like the MCG. We never had another break-in while I was there, all thanks to a cheeky sparkie and the true currency of Australia: beer.

The post Dave and the Christmas Light appeared first on Dave Hooper.

With their surf-tinged rock sound, Crawl hit a nerve with a generation. They followed up with Sirocco (1981), Sons of Beaches (1982), and the Semantics EP (1983), which gave us their biggest anthem, “Reckless (Don’t Be So).” By 1985, they weren’t just a band anymore — they were a staple of Australian music.

So when they announced a gig at the Sports & Entertainment Centre (what’s now Collingwood’s training base), my cousin Andrew and I knew we had to be there. To sweeten the deal, the support acts that night were none other than Paul Kelly — still on his way to becoming a national treasure — and The Motels, who were riding their own wave of popularity. It promised to be a night of serious music.

For me, it also turned into a rite of passage. Somewhere between Surrey Hills and the city, I made the life-changing decision to crack my “alcohol virgin” bubble. The weapon of choice? UDL Vodka and Orange cans. Classy, I know. I sank them all the way in on the train, and by the time we rocked up to the gig, I was well and truly smashed.

The details of the night are a little blurry for obvious reasons, but what I do remember is a cracking lineup and the electric feeling of seeing Aussie Crawl at their peak. For a kid just breaking into adulthood, it was the perfect storm — music, mates, and a night I’ll never forget (even if I can’t remember all of it).

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