Day of the Dead Distilleries 2026 – Atlanta
October 24 @ 7:00 pm

Sadness, misery, and woe!
<sniffle sniffle>
Black suits/dark funeral attire: Andy Smith, president – Scotch Clubs of America, is coming to town and bringing 7 deceased friends. Our lineup is the equivalent of that of the 1927 Yankees: Littlemill, Dallas Dhu, Rosebank, Convalmore, Imperial, St Magdalene (I prefer Linlithgow), and Coleburn. These distilleries were permanently closed in the late 20th century due to the whisky lochs crisis, an era when the industry was experiencing sharply declining sales and all of the producers had far too much inventory. In order to survive the downturn, the various groups closed their marginal performing distilleries, those that weren’t environmental regulation compliant, and/or needed new equipment to replace worn out equipment. It was a tough period that saw about 3 dozen distilleries being mothballed.
A note from Andy Smith:
Please join me in Atlanta as I join you and Jack to mourn these deliciously rare single malts in somber unsober communion on the same night that our friends in Los Angeles and San Diego do the same. We will eulogize each whisky as well as the late benefactor/collector, John Pollack, the previous guardian of these delicious mortal remains.
As these bottles are being split between multiple clubs, it is imperative that you reserve online (soon), so that we can manage an accurate distribution of these “spirits”. Please contact us if you have issues reserving online, we will make it work out.
ATTENDANCE IS LIMITED. We are sorry for your loss.
The Deceased
St. Magdalene (Linlithgow) 1967 15yr
Coleburn 1971 OMC 28yr
Rosebank 1989 10yr Signatory
Imperial 1982 14yr Cooper’s Choice
Dallas Dhu 1973 15yr Conn Choice
Convalmore 1981 17yr Cooper’s Choice
Littlemill 8yr
Additional scotch zombies to be shared after the funeral.
Darkness falls upon the land
One by one the stills go dead
Each murdered by a corporate hand
So vodka could be poured instead
They slew the ancient and the young
And let their corpses rot in mud
Yet now you wait with thirsty tongue
To taste their final golden blood
You start to feel a numbing chill
The thrill of what you shall consume
The spawn of seven hallowed stills
Await in seven glassy tombs
Yet as the spirit meets its end
Your Glencairn starts to quiver
For few mere mortals dare to send
The Undead to their liver