Stars: 2 of 5.
Home Country: United States.
Ah, remember sidling up to the soda fountain counter, handing Jimmy the Soda Jerk a nickel, recapping last night's episode of HAVE GUN WILL TRAVEL, and receiving in a return a tall, bubbling, ambrosial vat of BIG DADDY SIZED BRIGHT BLUE SUGAR WATER? Unless this memory was steeped in the Blue Raspberry craze of the late 80's and early 90's, I'd say we're seeing some rather egregious use of the term 'old-fashioned.' But who knows- Dad has been around since 1937, and blue cream soda is sorta ubiquitous today, so maybe Dad himself has been using food coloring for ages to turn his sodas that delightful shade of cerulean blue which- wait a minute, Dad, how did you know that was always my favorite crayon? Regardless, this thing is Big Daddy Size. This is not for pikers. It's not quite the kiddie 40 oz., but it's still not for the weak of mind or the faint of heart. Dad's odor is sweet, but his taste is rich and sugary beyond belief. I could only cough down a few laborious sips before I'd reached my limit. Speaking of coughing, cough syrup is delicious also. If only it were available in a vivid blue hue and in a container fit for Big Daddies. I mean, anyone who can suffer an entire liter of this stuff is a better man than I. And not to be a dick, but I actually would have been more impressed had it been flavored blue raspberry. I can only award you two stars, Dad, but I know they will have ample room to shine in that Big Daddy sized container you've got there.
But wait- a little research puts some faces to the names. Suddenly, I feel very bad- I'm not badmouthing some faceless, corporate entity named 'Dad.' I'm badmouthing this guy:
Meet Dad and the fam. They like bow ties almost as much as they like soda.
Look at 'im. He's stylish, dapper, and an all-around good guy. He's like the Mr. Belvedere of soda hucksterage. But he's no butler- he's Dad! He's stuck with Mama for all these years, even after she started looking like Lillian Gish in NIGHT OF THE HUNTER. He and even puts up with the constant, puerile outbursts of Junior there, who kinda looks like the demon-child of Buddy Holly and James Remar. I guarantee you that Dad right there has taken a few tacks up the ass courtesy of Junior, yet he keeps on smiling. Keeps on trimming that mustache till it's perfect. Keeps on pumpin' out old-fashioned blue cream soda. Nothing can keep Dad down. I've even got a picture of Dad's house- the house where he makes the soda:
Awww, no, Dad! That's just sad. A crumbling, dilapidated rust belt behemoth not even fit for the gang from STREET TRASH, much less a vivacious nuclear family. It's an American tragedy that makes Theodore Dreiser's look like a whacky picaresque. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I gave your big daddy-sized old-fashioned blue cream soda only two stars. I hope you can forgive me.