"The Dr. Pepper's On Us"

As mentioned earlier, a Guns 'N Roses album is on the horizon. 

Why should we care?

Oh yeah. The 2008 completion of it entitles us all to a free can (or bottle? canteen?) of Dr. Pepper. 

Here's some instructions on how to obtain your very own coupon (which will take a while to arrive). 

Supposedly it can be used anywhere. I'm trying to imagine the expression I'll get from the cashier ladies at Western.

Refrescos Country Club Frambuesa Raspberry Soda | See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Drink Me

More like Monthly Fizz.
I blame the delays on my wall clock, which is getting a little old (my middle daughter made it with construction paper and glitter, and I've never had the heart to tell her it has no method of actually keeping time.)

I've been seeing a lot of sad eyes lately, so I was thinking, what the hell, I guess we are due for another post about now, aren't we?

So gather 'round children, and put on those party hats. It's time for the evening news. That means you too, Phil.

Let's talk about things that've happened in the past 24 hours:

1) Some interesting developments have occurred regarding that OJ Simpson case we've all been following oh-so-closely.

2) Another debate's going on at the very moment I'm writing this. Politics is crazy. But then again, so is sodas.

3) The stock market crashed again (at least I heard; I was shampooing my cat around that hour).

4) Reginald came in yelling and screaming and hollering and whistling, "Chief," he said—he calls me that occasionally—"Listen up! I think I might've found something!"

"Really?"

"Well.. yeah."

"What is it?" I asked. His nose was twitching at this point. Also, he was still wearing his pajama pants, the ones with little sailboats. "Make it snappy," I said. "And speak up, I got a bad headache."

"The missus and I have found a terrific light caffeine-free Raspberry soda."
He wiped his sweaty face on his sweatshirt, leaving a large greasy stain over Daffy Duck. I asked him to say again what he just said, and then myself said, "You don't say!" I put down my Sudoku puzzle—I'd given up on it and instead had begun crafting an origami swan out of the page. I raised my monocle to see his tiny face grinning. He hardly ever does that anymore, due to insecurity, mainly for losing every tooth in his Razor scooter collision last spring.

He handed me the bottle, and accidentally cracked the glass of my monocle in the process. Several shards made their way into my cornea, but rather than getting angry, I wiped the blood with my kerchief and asked him to slowly read the label.

"It appears to say Refrescos Country Club Frambuesa Raspberry Soda, sir."

"What's that, Español or something?" I asked.

"Think so."

And then I had a sip. I had seventeen of them, actually, completely finishing off the bottle. I did this before getting him to order twelve additional cases for the West cellar. It was damn good. Damn good.

If you don't trust my senses, trust your own and order a 2 liter (also in Orange) from amigofoods. And then throw a party.

Citadelle Fruit Cola | Taste of the Islands

I know my prolonged absence has left a cold and miserable hole in so many of your lives. My secretary's been reading and rereading several letters addressed from concerned followers. A few have even brought me to tears, which is a feeling I can only compare with my time spent in the woods with these people. You see, it's not that we here at Weekly Fizz have been lazy. It's just that we've been taking the private jet out, and much like Bruce Brown we've traveled the world over in search of The Perfect Cola. Yeah, that's it.

Last week we landed in Jamaica to stock up on several sodas we've reviewed in the past, and came across a new one. The rather nonspecific Citadelle Fruit Cola, our interns found, takes a relatively new approach in giving drinkers a chance to decide for themselves what it is they're actually tasting. You see, the people at Citadelle don't bother claiming their drink is "The Real Thing" nor do they go with cocky simple one-word slogans like "Enjoy." No sir. This forward-thinking marketing team has used the skilled illustration seen below- a sunset behind a lovely pair of palm trees- to convey the joy and serenity one felt the first time they swam in the deep end without parental supervision.

My colleague mentioned it tasted like cotton candy. I suggest you drink this one the same way we did, and decide the emotional landscape behind what you're tasting. Make sure to put on some Saul Williams and preheat the oven to 450 and cook that Totino's Triple Meat in style.

Fernandes Cherry Bouquet | Dutch Treat

Amsterdam has a tolerance for many things unpermitted in other places. Prostitution, marijuana, children peeing in bushes, and none other than Fernandes Cherry Bouquet.

I can say with honesty that on last week's trip I searched the city over, and couldn't find much in the way of peculiar non-U.S. sodas, but only weird juices, smoothies and things. 

Here were a few soda-related observations:

1) Fanta is even more common, in every local shopkeeper's cooler and served in every restaurant. 

2) Diet Cokes look the same, yet they go by the name Coca-Cola light. 

3) Also one day I thought I was buying a carton of chocolate milk, but upon opening it I found out I had actually bought a carton of chocolate yogurt. How is one supposed to consume an entire gallon of chocolate yogurt? You'll have to ask a Dutchman.

I got this little can from a vendor next to an art nouveau/deco neo-gothic theater, and threw it in my backpack until arriving home. And buddy, was that a long walk. It came as a reward that particular day of taking wrong turns all over the city, trying not to fall into canals and get run over by bicyclists.

I couldn't find Fernandes drinks online. The company had a few other soda flavors all over Amsterdam (Green Punch, Super Pineapple, and YES- Red Grape!). The ones I tried were all good, but Cherry Bouquet was certainly the tastiest.