Disenchanted to find that a “very high government official” (*coughNixoncough*) was behind the Secret Empire in the 1970s, Steve Rogers gave up his star-spangled attire to become the Nomad, Man Without A Country.  It was a short-lived phase for him, as his successor was killed by the Red Skull, convincing him that the indestructible shield and mask was his true calling.  Nomad whisky is aged in sherry casks, which give it an unusual flavor, presumable as unusual as the sight of Rogers in a blue-and-gold cape.

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Once upon a time, there was a young nerd from the Midwest, who loved Matter-Eater Lad and the McKenzie Brothers... If pop culture were a maze, Matthew would be the Minotaur at its center. Were it a mall, he'd be the Food Court. Were it a parking lot, he’d be the distant Cart Corral where the weird kids gather to smoke, but that’s not important right now... Matthew enjoys body surfing (so long as the bodies are fresh), writing in the third person, and dark-eyed women. Amongst his weaponry are such diverse elements as: Fear! Surprise! Ruthless efficiency! An almost fanatical devotion to pop culture! And a nice red uniform.


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