Whiskey of the Night - The Bible

Oh buddy, this one felt less like an episode and more like a late-night roadside bonfire where someone hands you a whiskey and says, “Okay, but hear me out.” Jack Dyer rolls in as a civil engineer and developer and immediately gets introduced as a “right-wing extremist,” which somehow becomes both a joke and a working hypothesis for the next two hours. From Southlake-before-it-was-cool origin stories to Aggie grad school flexes and Dairy Queen nostalgia, the vibe is clear early: we’re not here for takes, we’re here for positions, preferably held with confidence and zero apology.

Things escalate quickly when Jack opens the theological trapdoor and drops everyone straight into Dead Sea Scrolls, divine councils, fallen watchers, and why your church seating arrangement might secretly be pagan propaganda. One minute it’s friendly banter about headphones and whiskey glasses, the next minute you’re questioning whether “church” should even be in the Bible and why Jesus allegedly chose the sketchiest pagan hotspot imaginable to make a cosmic power move. The boys try, valiantly, to keep the conversation tethered to earth, but Jack is operating at cruising altitude somewhere between Mount Hermon and the gates of hell, casually explaining why this all makes perfect sense.

By the time Greenland, the Monroe Doctrine, global power blocs, and end-times adjacent speculation enter the chat, it’s clear we’ve crossed from podcast episode into fever-dream symposium. Nobody ordered this whiskey flight, but everyone’s committed now. There’s just enough self-awareness to laugh at how insane it all sounds, which somehow makes it even more compelling. Jack insists he’s not an apocalypse guy while calmly outlining why everything feels… weird. You don’t leave convinced, but you definitely leave alert.

In the end, this episode is best described as intellectual whiplash with moments of accidental coherence. It’s theology, geopolitics, history, and conspiracy theory thrown into a blender, set to “Texas,” and served neat. You may not agree with half of it, but you’ll laugh, rewind, and occasionally stare at the ceiling wondering if you’ve been sitting in a Baal-aligned rectangle your whole life. Classic Whiskey Bros chaos, no whiskey of the night, no guardrails, and absolutely no refunds.

Whiskey of the night: Pig Blood, Single Malt Small Batch Cherry Oak Pecan Barrel Reserve, 122.333333333333 proof

Last night’s episode wasn’t a podcast so much as a controlled detonation. The Whiskey Bros welcomed Trey Hawkins of TheHuntingGame.com with the stated intention of discussing the Wise County Hog Contest, but within minutes that plan was abandoned in favor of whiskey-fueled confessions, cultural whiplash, and the kind of verbal drive-bys that only happen when no one in the room has any interest in being employable later. Microphones were hot, standards were low, and Trey slid into the chaos like a man who’s been living among feral hogs, firearms, and bad ideas his entire adult life.

Somewhere between the first pour and the fifteenth tangent, we learned that what started in 2011 as a humble effort to thin the hog population has metastasized into the largest hog hunting contest on earth—complete with six-figure prize pools, polygraphs, barred-hog scandals, and teams hauling pigs for four hours just to be told their trophy has no nuts and therefore no future. Stories piled on stories: 500-pound mutant hogs bending barns, contestants who don’t care if they win as long as they had a good night, and side pots so specific they sound like inside jokes made legally binding.

The episode then veered hard into its natural habitat: exploding goats, buzzards eating livestock alive, thermal optics, kill-them-all contests involving dump trailers full of hogs, raccoon body counts, archery hypotheticals, and at least one serious discussion about spear-based combat that absolutely should not exist in recorded form. Along the way, we somehow covered cardiology, near-death experiences, involuntary pants-shitting, bidets, whiskey proofs, and why hogs are single-handedly rewriting the ecological rulebook of Texas. If you’re wondering whether any of this was edited for tone or taste, the answer is no… thank God for that.

By the end, the room was buzzing, the whiskey was flowing, and whatever fragile line separates “podcast episode” from “group therapy for men with guns and opinions” had been fully erased. This was loud, reckless, wildly informative, and deeply Texas. No apologies. No lessons learned. Just hogs, whiskey, and a reminder that civilization is thinner than we think, and probably smells like Blanton’s and feral pig blood.

The bros rolled into 2026 like a hungover marching band, totally unprepared, missing their notes, and immediately defaulting to the only tradition that matters: drinking whiskey on-air. The Whiskey of the Week was a Jack Daniel’s Distillery Release that somehow tastes like toasted pecans, maple breakfast, and poor life decisions — hand-delivered by a buddy who drove to Ohio to pick up a dog, because apparently humans will cross state lines for puppies and booze but not for personal growth. The conversation spiraled fast into first-responder appreciation, porn-episode rescheduling, and the philosophical question of our time: Can a man go to a Mexican restaurant and NOT eat the chips? (Answer: absolutely not, don’t be ridiculous.)

Somewhere between health talk, Ozempic jokes, communism, Venezuela, and chips-and-queso addiction therapy, the guys remembered this was a podcast and not a group counseling session. They wrapped by wondering whether podcasting would still be fun if someone paid them a quarter-million a year to do it five days a week — and the answer was yes, absolutely, they would sell out instantly, Clyde would still be underpaid, and the whiskey would taste even better.