Plutarch wrote...
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I'm anxious to find out whose face is on the Prize One bottle, themilum, so I'm providing a deserving verse to capture the honor:

And when like her, O Sáki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your blissful errand reach the spot
Where I made One—turn down an empty Glass.
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Even you, Plutarch, I did not think would stoop to abject plagiarism to win a prize. [sigh]

Ok, Plutarch I got your prize...you win the Maverick, a spoof of refined English sensibilities and your prize is a booby prize.
No no not that kind of booby, but a booby prize resurrected from a more honest past, back when is was considered ok to point out that people on occasion could act poorly and be deserving of public ridicule.

As winner of the Maverick Award your prize is a six pack of Colt 45 Malt Liquor. A totally American beer that even the roughest of men consider undrinkable.

So here's to you, Plutarch, congratulations and drink up!

And I must confess that it will be hard for me to drink a whole six-pack of Colt 45 this morning before breakfast, Colt 45 is not a beer that one would say is user-friendly, but believe me, Plutarch, you deserve it.

Cheers.