Johnnie Walker

From Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia.
Jump to: navigation, search
A photo of Mr. Walker and his pride 'n joy. Photo circa 1972.

Famous beer and whiskey spokesman Johnathan Robert Walker (1955 - 1989) was born on January 5th, 1955 to Mrs. Jane Sue Walker in Mobile(Home), Alabama before the family's eventual relocation to Scotland when Walker was the age of three-years old. He is also a co-founder/maker of the alcoholic beverage that bears his name.

The First Sippin Of Drank[edit]

When Walker was tweleve years-old, his uncle/father Robert Daniel Walker Sr. give him a drink of Jack Daniels. The following is what Walker said of the whiskey: "This shit 'ud be purty good...if it didn't taste like Fido's asshole."

The comment upset Walker Sr., an employee doing something I don't give a shit about at Jack Daniels, and he savagely beat Johnnie with his whittlin stick. And just so a few heartless bastards know, Johnnie cried, which resulted in another beating, this time with a cane pole (also a whittlin stick).

The beatings outraged Mrs. Walker and so she, to use the words of witness Sammy Jackson, "popped a big ass cap in dat cracker's big old ass...motherfucker." Walker Sr. died of gunshot wounds to the face, chest, penis, and of course the ass. Walker Sr. was 25 and is missed by his momma, Fido.

Johnnie Makes a Change[edit]

After the beatings, Johnnie became depressed. Mr. Walker Sr. had told Johnnie the following between beatings that made him as such: "You needledicked whore, I fucked your momma! And when I'm done with you, you gonna lick Fido's asshole again! You gonna make Jack Daniels. You never make better!"

Some say it also made Johnnie Walker a Class 3 Emo (which, according to experts is midlevel). This has been proven true since autopsies of the corpse had shown skin damage on the wrists.

Soon, his momma was getting tired of washing his knives, so she gave him the mash-makin machine and tools she inherited from her brother, Walker Sr. She instructed Johnnie to try out out-wiskey-ing Daniels. For fifteen years he tried. For two years he quit. Then he tried for another three.

Three was the lucky number.

Johnnie's Mash and 'Mercials[edit]

Mr. Walker even made cameos in advertisements for his own whiskey, which he termed "The Spirit of the World," that cocky little fuck.
Your typical bottle of Johnnie Walker, circa 1978. The formula is probably Secret Brew No. 2.

During the twenty years (fifteen added to two added to three is twenty, Virginia, so don't argue with me) he tried making-mash wiskey, Walker found himself doing beer and wiskey commericals. Even a few television shows. (Thus, becoming a spokesman.) The following is an excerpt from the (now deleted) IMDB page that outlines Walker's work:

(Also from the same IMDB page, these listings are disputed since Walker died in 1989.)

Walker's commericals were a sucess.

Also, during this time, he created what some experts call the perfect drink. This was what Walker called "Secret Poo -- I mean, Secret Brew No. 2." It tasted just right and there was also a hint of buttery corn. This formula changed shortly before Walker's death, however, to a new brew he termed "The Sauce." The Sauce is now what you taste when you drink all bottles of Johnnie Walker Wiskey made after 1988.

Since the wiskey was so great, Tuscan Whole Milk co-creator and founder Doug Tuscan wanted a piece of the action like a nerd wanting pussy. Walker met him in a Wal-Mart at the hard stroke of midnight and they locked themselves in a room to hammer out agreements, much like the ones taken place between Gristedes Supermarkets of New York and Tuscan Farms for sole rights to sell Tuscan Whole Milk (which meant one huge circle jerk and human sacrafices).

When Johnnie Walker Whiskey hit store shelves it sold out, much in a similar fashion with Tuscan Whole Milk.

Walker Stops Walkin[edit]

The ride could only last so long. Johnnie Walker soon became addicted to his own wiskey. His momma begged him to go to rehab, but Walker refused. As a result, he would pay the price.

One Sunday afternoon in 1989, Walker was walking drunk in front of Wal-Mart shouting at the drivers and customers. He had his brown paper bag with his wiskey inside, possibly a Glock with some gangsta ass bullets in it, and his dick hanging out and slapping his white boy knees. He was also wearing some clothes which had come into style thanks to the Wino movement. He was ready for anything...well, until he had to go home.

Night came and he had to go home. So, happy as a fucking bird, he walked out into the road. As he stepped out, he was hit by a drunk driver. The end.

Walker was 37.

The Afterbreath[edit]

A book written about Johnnie's accident that resulted in his death. The book, written by Stephen King and Dean Koontz who decided to go without credit for writing it during early publication for the book, was published circa 1991.

When Walker died, people were sad. Some were even outraged and threatened to have the driver killed gangland-style. It almost happened. The driver almost had his penis stuck into his mouth and killed. Things were getting violent and the drinking rate had gone up (for more info, please see Wino Crossings).

Songs were written, too. George Thorogood or someone and Charlie Daniels wrote songs in which they mentioned Walker with mourning. (Johnnie from "Devil Went Down to Georgia" is in fact Johnnie Walker. Yes, that motherfucker could play the fiddle that damn good.)

People in the United States government had tolerated enough of the drinking problem. They got the message loud and clear.

The Afterbreath Pt. 2: An Overlook at The Johnnie Walker Act[edit]

Surgeon General Colin Whatchacollum before signing the Johnnie Walker Act. He said, "May God help the dumb assholes that this bill protects."

In 1990, one year after Walker died, leading cause of the alcohol problem, Hair Metal, was dying, mostly from drug overdoses, STDs, and obesity. Grunge had taken over and some people were easing off the bottle, glad that Hair Metal had banged its last Sunset Strip callgirl with it's old, half-flaccid penis. People were stopping the hard sucking of barrels of Remington shotguns. (Well, for a while, anyway.)

But something had to be done to prevent this from happening again.

Then President at the time Moe Smallwood had talks with Congress and Surgeon General Colin Whatchacollumn to pass an act preventing new Hair Metal bands from forming and to make sure Winos weren't hit by anymore Fords with something called Wino Crossings. Congress and Mr. Whatchacollumn supported the idea.

After a month of discussion, they decided to approve the law and name it in honor of drunk-driving victim Johnnie Walker. The people cried with joy and Moe Smallwood became a glorious footnote in American history.

The Johnnie Walker Act states the following:

The problem was solved.

See also[edit]