Buenos Dias Gliberinos! I’m probably asleep right now, but thanks to the time travel technology designed by the Mayans, I have been able to bring you Mexican links from yesterday!
Deportes:
Did your team win? I don’t know, and its too early for me to try and cater to everyone’s sportsball needs. Find out here.
Women protest Mike Pence at a fundraising event, by dressing as characters from Handmaiden’s Tale. Apparently one of the reasons cited is US immigration policy, which strikes me as a bit of a stretch.
Another day, another high ranking member of a Mexican Drug cartel breaks out of prison.
Absurd Editorials:
Evidently, something was published in a journal called Nature Climate Change that found a correlation between climate change and suicides. What is the causal link you ask? During a month with “abnormally” high temperatures they found a slight uptick in suicides during the course of that month. Which means if the world is getting warmer on average we can expect more months to be “abnormally” hot, which means more suicides. Yes, it did occur to me this is very clearly, not listed in the editorial section.
I mentioned to everyone I went to Mexico right? No big surprise.
From where I am, it’s only a 3-4 hour drive depending on whether or not you follow Mexican traffic laws. To be honest the route I take goes through something called a “hassle free zone”, but I have seen Federales there so I’m not about to chance it. I keep it around three times the speed limit.
This is my review of New Belgium The Hemperor.
On my way there I received a voicemail in a town I never have signal.
“Hi this is Kelly from Swiss Corpse International Industries.” I guess Anna didn’t last a week.
“Swiss wants me to relay a message to you. He says, ‘the Old Man and the Sea will find you in Mexico. I can’t read this….it isn’t very nice.”
“It’s not meant to be nice!” I thought I heard in the background.
“He also wanted me to relay the message, ‘thanks for nothing, asshole, now I’m going to Neverland to find…Steve Smith?’”
“Neverland?” I asked myself out loud.
“Netherlands! Its crystal clear, read the damn memo!” I heard in the background. Oh no, this call was recorded for training purposes. “Netherlands, its where the Dutch people live!”
“I thought Dutch was what Germans called themselves?” She asked.
That’s one way to get a Narrowed Gaze on your first day at work.
The voicemail continued. “…um…Swiss…wants….wants” Her voice was trembling. “…he wants you to know that you signed a contract, next time read the fine print, ha ha ha ha….ha. He really wanted that last one. Five ha’s. Just go along with what they say. I know how much you hate…Argentines? Do I really have to say that last one?”
“Just fucking do it.” I definitely heard Swiss yell faintly in the background.
“…so this really benefits you. They have too much on you. It’s not worth fighting it, don’t be stupid…” The voicemail ended.
They can’t find me in Mexico. It’s a fishing turned resort town populated by Sammy Hagar types and a few Jesse Ventura type retirees. Both constantly complaining about the government but completely ignore the ridiculous overreach the Mexican government takes on a daily basis. Apparently, police presence in the form of machine gunners in the back of a pickup truck is okay, because you get a discount on your taxes if you pay them three months early…..
“They can’t find me, there’s too many Mexicans. I blend in.” I reassured myself. I put the phone in the glove box and finished gassing my car.
_____
“Room no ready yet.” The woman at the concierge desk informed me. “Come back one hour, need clean.”
“Thank you.” I assumed I can probably find something to do for an hour.
_____
“Necesitamos limpian su cuarto. Damos una otra hora, por favor.” The man at the concierge desk informed me an hour later.
“Muchas gracias.” I guess I can probably find something else to do for an hour.
_____
“Esta aqui. Trescientos quince.” Finally, they handed me a key to room 315. The concierge looked hauntingly at the back corner, and handed me an envelope. I turned and saw a shadowy figure wearing a hoodie in the corner, under the AC duct of course.
He pointed at the figure and the envelope and shuffled off to the back room waving his hands in the air. Clearly not wanting anything to do with either the hooded figure or the envelope. I opened it.
“Pollos.”
You have to be kidding me. I turned it over and looked back for the hooded figure. He was gone.
“Just kidding, LOL. We’re at Playa Bonita, it’s easy to find. The only white house on the point near the tide pools.”
I knew the house. It has that ‘drug lord’ vibe to it, with its high walls, iron gates and the enormous dog walking around the property. It seemed a little too out of place but left intentionally in plain sight.
“Come by at 4:20. Bring a dessert.”
I decide to take Swiss’ advice and not fight it…yet. As I drove down the dirt road I noticed a number of ultralight aircraft landing in the dry basin, exchanging small items and taking off towards the sunset.
I pulled up to the house and dismounted. I pushed the blue button on the intercom.
Bzzzzzz
“Good afternoon. You’re right on time.”
“I try to be.” I answered back, not having anything better to say.
“What’s in the box? It’s a dessert right?”
I held up the pink box I got from the panaderia in town from the baker with one arm. “It’s a tres leches cake.” I replied. “Con fresas. Last one he had.”
The cast iron gates to the compound slowly opened and stopped just wide enough for me to squeeze through. Ever wary of the enormous dog attacking me in the courtyard, I approached the pristine, white house.
_____
The house itself had clean, white walls. The floors were wall to wall saltillo tile as was typical in this part of the world, arranged in a visually stimulating hexagonal mosaic. Imposing columns with a tasteful, off-white texturing held up the vaulted ceiling. This was designed intentionally to be intimidating.
“Good afternoon…mexican sharpshooter.” A voice echoed from within the hallway. I turned and saw a comparatively smaller man than I. Not a dwarf, but certainly nobody that would be confused with Warty. He had a black, but graying beard that appeared to have never been trimmed, but was well kempt and combed to tuck neatly under the chin. He was wearing a white, loose fitting garment with sleeves that covered both his hands while they were in a gently closed position. His arms were not crossed. The garment appeared to be painstakingly obvious it was made from a single source of crisp, linen fiber.
This man was very familiar with the Laws of Leviticus.
“It’s rather dusty outside. Please, remove your shoes.” He said. I noticed he too was barefoot, and obliged. “Can I interest you in a glass of Romanian wine?” He motioned to a room with a glass door; hundreds of bottles of wine were neatly placed on wooden racks. With a child, aged 12, inside dutifully turning one a half turn.
“I’d like that, however I am not a wine drinker. Please don’t waste anything ‘good’ on my account.” I replied, removing my shoes.
“Left shoe first.” He said.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
“I SAID—take off your LEFT SHOE first.” He said sternly. “Goddamn Catholics.” His demeanor changed back. “Yes, you are certainly more of a beer guy. That’s why we called you here today. I still have to pay you back for that bottle of spiked pig urine you sent me.”
“So you’re the Old Man?” I asked.
He nodded and motioned to a crystal bowl filled with lemon drops set on a table. “Candy?”
“I’m —“
“Good? Yes. Please join us in the parlor.” The Old Man said.
_____
The parlor was equally impressive. Its walls were mostly bookshelves alternating with displays of small artifacts. I immediately centered in on a massive cuneiform tablet.
“Please don’t touch.” A woman’s voice said behind me. “It’s very old, I would hate to have to do as it instructs, and remove your hand with a rusty tin can lid.”
“I can imagine that.” I said.
“It’s the Code of Hammurabi.” She said. “One of the world’s first examples of the imposition of freedom.” I could see her hand was trembling in her attempt to suppress rage. “I had to have it.”
She wasn’t dressed nearly as unnervingly as the Old Man, even though she was also dressed in white. Her hair was tied back neatly and she wore thick rimmed glasses. Under her arm was a small laptop she carried around. She had a glass of wine with a volume similar to my head carried gently in her other hand.
“Yeah, that was a fun day. The British Museum can suck it.” Another man walked into the room. He was wearing a hoodie, he pulled it back to reveal a blue mohawk.
“Don’t mind the Mad Scientist.” She looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
The Mad Scientist nodded and scurried out of the room.
“He’s completely out of his mind, but he’s the best grease man in the business. I wanted this tablet. He set off a small explosion in the London Underground last year. The diversion was enough to occupy the London Metro police long enough for Warty to walk in and steal it. He picked up the 1500kg stone tablet and placed it here in my vacation home.”
She was interrupted by the sound of an angle grinder in the garage. “Ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it!” Mad Scientist shouted.
“I was at the British Museum six months ago, the Code was—“
“They have a forgery. You didn’t see it there, because it is here in my parlor. I suppose you want to know why we called you here today. I need a favor, but first, can I interest you in some falafel?”
_____
The Old Man clapped his hands twice and six Mexican children dutifully marched into the room carrying trays of food into the dining room. They looked like Oompa Loopas, just slightly less creepy.
“So I am supposed to be on vacation. Why did you call me here?” I asked.
The Old Man began. “We have been plotting to legalize drugs for the past thirty years. We set up several operations here in Mexico, Columbia, Cambodia, The Gambia, and Arkansas that will all be poised to corner the market upon legalization. The only problem is—“
“Arkansas?” I had to interject.
“It’s a holdover from Whitewater. Hillary lost her nerve so we cut our losses in the 90s, but the operation remained. They looked the other way when we showed them our satellite photos of Hillary riding Web Hubbel like Seabiscuit in the early 80s. Even in the low resolution photos that were typical of the time, they had to admit it was her. Nobody else is stupid enough to get a tramp stamp of Che Guevara.” The Old Man explained.
I choked for a moment on my falafel.
“At any rate. She got too dangerous during the last election. I duplicated her email server twice, sending one to our friend Julian Assange, and putting the other in a bathroom in Colorado.” She explained. “To keep Trump in line, we have a small explosive charge in his MAGA hat. He’ll sign the bill if and when it comes to his desk, unless he wants to level Trump Tower.”
“That’s small?” I asked.
“Small enough.”
“So S—
“No.” The Old Man stopped me.
“No, what?”
“Do not say her name out loud. She has many aliases. The avatar you know her as, ‘The Hacker,’ ‘The Hand of God,’ ‘Guccifer,’ ‘Guccifer 2.0,’ ‘Pablo Escobar,’ and ‘La Lívida Reina.’ You may not say her name out loud.” I looked over and saw that she smiled at me sweetly.
“All hail the livid queen!” Mad Scientist shouted as he got the skillsaw going. “Ha ha ha ha ha, Suck it!”
“…Señor Escobar, how does any of this legalize drugs?” I asked.
“We needed a mechanism to get enough people addicted to the compounds the Old Man has been working on since he poisoned our rival, William Randolph Hearst.” She explained.
“You poisoned him?” I asked.
“With falafel. Here, have some more.” The Old Man added another three to my plate.
“Enough people demand the drugs, they will have no choice but to legalize. Especially with enough congresscritters addicted themselves. We just needed the right carrier.” She explained.
“A solvent, if you will.” The Old Man added.
“Then in 1973, while on holiday in New Delhi, the Old Man drank something called an India Pale Ale.”
“It was dreadful.” The Old Man said.
“But it was perfect.” They held hands. “Because you can’t smell or taste anything else while drinking it.”
“So this compound. What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a hallucinogen.” The Old Man explained. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Have you tested it, to make sure you don’t kill anyone?” I asked.
“Of course we did!” She answered. I might have offended her, based on her tone. “We tested it on Riven. She was absolutely adorable and they call her ‘Giggles’ now.”
“Look, there’s going to be a few…hundred million…broken eggs, but it’s okay.” The Old Man added. “It’s just culling the herd if they don’t want to be safe about it, and quite frankly it was their decision to like IPA.”
A small explosion shook the walls, with a small amount of plaster dust falling down. “IPA! Ha ha ha ha ha! Suck it!” Mad Scientist was up to something in the courtyard.
“Besides.” She added. “WE did not create IPA. We just created the hop arms race. Then we began licensing beer infused with CBD and our compound. The first out to market was called Breaking Bud.” She looked disappointed. “Sadly, that one got us in a lawsuit with SONY pictures.”
“Copyright infringement.” The Old Man said. “They sued our Swiss holding corporation.
“A Swiss holding corporation?” I asked. This was getting weird.
“You’re familiar with it.” She explained. “Swiss Corps International Industries.”
“You’re a pawn, just like Mad Scientist. Swiss Servator doesn’t know who he really works for, but is more of a bishop. Deal with it.” The Old Man said. “Here, have some more Romanian wine.”
The lights flickered, followed by the unmistakable sound of arc flash and the Mad Scientist’s sadistic laughter. “Ha ha ha ha ha. You’re a pawn! Suck it!”
“Its okay though. I got back at them by hacking them, leaving North Korea’s greasy fingerprints all over it, and distributing a movie on the internet before its release. It was a terrible movie.” She said.
“Don’t read Business Insider, dear. They’re idiots.” She replied.
“Duly noted. What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“What you always do. Drink beer. Talk about something silly and tell the Glibs it’s amazing.” The Old Man said.
“I’m pretty honest about my opinions. They already know I don’t like IPA, and they’re going to call me on that.” I argued.
The Old Man clapped his hands twice. A Mexican child walked in with a six pack and a clean chalice. “You’re going to try it right now. You’re going to fall back on your previous history of being honest and tell them you like it. The Glibs will buy it. They get addicted to our compound, and tell their friends about it. You’re going to make us very wealthy.”
“You really expect me to tell them I like an IPA?” I asked.
“No Mr. sharpshooter–I expect you to die.” She said. “Oh my. I’m so sorry, that came out wrong.” She was a bit flustered. She took another sip of Romanian wine before composing herself. “If you don’t, Lionel Messi is going to kill you and your family. He has pretty good cardio.”
“The soccer player?” I was confused.
“Part of our fortune was made on sports betting. We have the entire Argentine National team in our pocket.” The Old Man explained. “He owes us millions of Pounds from fucking up the round robin stage of the world cup. Iceland was only supposed to beat the spread, not tie them. Fucking Argentines, you can’t trust them”
“If you can’t trust an Argentine Striker…” I said.
“Just wait until you see what happens to Sergio Aguerro. We put an explosive charge in his knee last year. Remember how he had an injury late in the year, and they lost to Liverpool? You didn’t think Liverpool could beat them on their own, did you?” She said. “Oh and by the way, it was no mistake that STEVE SMITH broke into your house and kidnapped the tiny ass dog.”
“A ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it Liverpool!” Mad Scientist shouted in the foyer.
The Old Man nodded to the Mexican child. She opened and poured the New Belgium Hemperor into the chalice.
“If I say no right now?” I asked.
The Old Man pointed to the corner, where their enormous, apparently half dog, half polar bear was gnawing happily on an uncooked brisket.
“It’s in the contract you signed to publish on my site. You can’t tell us no.”
_____
It poured amber, had little head, and it smelled like bong water. I took down half the hemp infused IPA in a long swig. Yup, it tasted like overhopped bong water. A second swig finished it off.
Then. It. Happened.
I found myself walking through a field of grain. I was in Iowa or something, because I could see a sign that said, “Des Moines 20 miles,” with black smoke billowing from a small city in the distance.
“Who would burn down Des Moines? I mean I can totally see somebody burning down Atlanta, but what’s in Des Moines that’s worth burning?” I asked out loud.
ZARDOZ SPEAKS TO YOU HIS CHOSEN ARSON QUESTIONING ONE.
“What?”
ZARDOZ IN SQUABBLE WITH NEIGHBORING FARM. BRUTAL FARMER TAKES MY PRIVATE ROAD ACROSS MY PROPERTY TO ACCESS HIS. NO BIG DEAL REALLY, UNTIL I ASKED BRUTAL TO HELP COVER THE COST OF REPAIR AFTER HEAVY SNOW LAST WINTER, AND HE REFUSED. I MADE THE REPAIRS ON MY OWN AND FILED A REQUEST WITH THE STATE HE CEASE AND DESIST USING MY ROAD.
“Understandable.”
THEN THE STATE INFORM ZARDOZ, BRUTAL NEIGHBOR FILED FOR AN EASEMENT ON ZARDOZ’S PRIVATE ROAD.
“Judas Priest, what an asshole.”
BRUTALS IN THE STATE APPROVED THE EASEMENT 2 YEARS AGO.
“That’s terrible, do you have any legal recourse?”
ZARDOZ HAVE LEGAL RECOURSE, BUT ONLY REASONABLE ACTION WAS TO GO TO THE STATE HOUSE IN DES MOINES AND CLEANSE THE BRUTALS THAT GAVE AWAY ZARDOZ’S PROPERTY.
“Sounds reasonable. Is that why the entire city is on fire?”
ZARDOZ GOT IN A GROOVE. ONCE ZARDOZ START CLEANSING HE JUST KEEPS ON GOING UNTIL THE JOB OF CLEANSING IS DONE.
“I can relate. What about your neighbor?”
ZARDOZ HAVE BIG PLANS FOR NEIGHBOR.
“It involve cleansing?”
NO. MORE LIKE CLEANSE MY PATHETIC NEIGHBOR.
“My bad. You have any idea why I am here?
ZARDOZ BELIEVES YOU DRANK THE OLD MAN’S SERUM. THIS ENTIRE EPISODE IS OCCURRING WITHIN THE CONFINES OF NOW YOUR EXPANDING MIND.
Yeah, I recall drinking something. Can you do me a favor and not call it that again?
ZARDOZ PROMISE NOTHING. BUT HE CAN PREDICT PAIN IF YOU DO NOT FULFILL THEIR MORE THAN REASONABLE REQUEST.
“Really?”
YES. ARGENTINE SOCCER PLAYERS WILL ATTACK AND OVERWHELM YOUR DEFENSE WITH SYSTEMIC PRECISION. SHOULD THAT FAIL THEY WILL ATTEMPT AN APPEAL TO THE AUTHORITIES AND FRAME YOU FOR ATTROCITIES YOU DID NOT COMMIT. IT HAPPENS TO THE BEST OF US, HONESTLY. THEY DID IT TO ZARDOZ IN THE EARLY 70S.
“Really?”
YES. SP GATHERED DIRT ON ZARDOZ AND USED IT AS LEVERAGE IN A PLOT TO BRING GMO CHICKPEAS FOR SALE IN MIDDLE EASTERN AND MEDITERRANEAN MARKETS. ZARDOZ FAILED TO CLEANSE BRUTAL GREEK COURTS BLOCKING THE MOVE. AS A RESULT OF MY FAILURE, SP EXPOSED ZARDOZ’S AFFAIR WITH THE SIRENS OF TITAN.
“Those statues were real? I thought Vonnegut was just being a total crackpot.”
BRUTAL VONNEGUT ISA TOTAL CRACKPOT. HE MAKE THE SIRENS SLENDER WHEN THEY ARE CLEARLY THICC AF. THAT IS NO MATTER, YOU NOW HAVE THE CHANCE TO PREVENT THE SCOURGE OF BRUTALITY FROM FURTHER PLUNGING US ALL INTO THE ABYSS. DO NOT LET THE CHANCE SLIP.
“I hear you. I thought you were against the whole…breeding…thing?”
ZARDOZ LEARN LESSONS OF THE PAST. MESSAGE ON THE EVILS OF THE PENIS IS LESSON ZARDOZ LEARN THE HARD WAY. HE PASSES THIS LESSON ON TO YOU, HIS CHOSEN ONES. ZARDOZ HAS SPOKEN.
“You know, you’re not so one sided. You’re a much deeper character than people give you credit for.”
Then ZARDOZ unexpectedly coughed.
A Lee Enfield SMLE spun through the air, and butt-stroked me in the face.
_____
I fell back in the chair and struck my head against the tile floor.
“Ow! Fuck me!” I shouted.
“Hey genius. You’re not supposed to drink all of it at once.” The Old Man said.
“Noob! Ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it!
What if he were coming…for you?
I want everyone to go out right now and buy New Belgium The Hemperor. Right now, before you leave a comment. You will not get props for cheating and being first. It is available where ever New Belgium is sold.
This beer is delicious. It does not smell like bong water. Do not let the phrase IPA on the label fool you; it is amazingly balanced. I cannot describe to you how absolutely amazing this beer is. It is totally worth the $14.99 for a six pack; I will even go so far to say it is a bargain.
Please buy it, because I have absolutely no qualms with shooting Lionel Messi in self defense or any Argentine, really. New Belgium The Hemperor scores a very respectable 10/5.
Now for part two of the Spring Beer if Forward reviews.
Lackadaisical, who Yusef shipped to:
I received a bonanza of a BIF Box from Yusef drives a Kia, with a nice Stone Brewing Pint glass, and several coasters along with an assortment of high-end west coast beers, including 2-22s, one of a tripel ale and one of a double bock. As much as I enjoy Belgian style ales, I think the Belgians do it best, so I will focus on the Double Bock. Special Black Lobotomy Bock poured with surprisingly little head, even from vigorous pours. I would put this attribute in the positive column, as carbonation was still sufficient to keep things enjoyable and I rather dislike drinking suds. The beer is alluringly dark, as can be seen in the accompanying photograph, invoking mystery and exotic flavors. The taste is malty but not bitter, and lacks the chocolate or coffee hints that a stout might have. The finish is smooth and doesn’t leave any errant aftertaste.
Before drinking this beer I didn’t know I liked double bocks this much. At 12% ABV one might expect some kind of alcohol flavor to come through, but I found drinking the beer easy and without any hint of how strong it really was. Given the high ABV and easy drinking, this beer definitely lives up to it’s name, I was left wishing I had more so I could keep on drinking it, damn the consequences.
This was the best of a great batch of beers and I will have to up my BIF game for the next one. 3.5/4 stars
ron7344, who Mexican Sharpshooter shipped to:
Here is my BIF review, in order of drinking:
San Tan Mr. Pineapple: Didn’t think I was going to like this, but was pleasantly surprised. Has a good wheat beer flavor with an excellent pineapple aftertaste. 4/5
San Tan MoonJuice IPA: Obviously a high quality beer, but way too much of a grapefruit flavor compared to the IPA’s that I prefer (Hop Devil being my favorite) This was my second grapefruit IPA and I guess I found a beer style that I don’t like. 1/5
Four Peaks Brewing Co. Kilt Lifter: I was really looking forward to this one because I love Scottish Ales and this did not disappoint, very tasty and easy to drink, definitely my favorite of the bunch so far. 4.5/5
Sonoran White Chocolate Ale: Really was skeptical about this one. Initial smell was chocolate with very little beer, and the first taste was sweet. Second taste was not bad and by the third drink I started to like it. Overall, an enjoyable beer. 4/5
I really enjoyed the BIF, it gave me a chance to try beers that I would never see and types that I would never buy. Shipping my beers out was tedious and expensive, but it was well worth it and I will sign up if we do it again.
Riven, who shipped to the Hyperbole:
Oh, man. Look at all these beautiful babies:
Uh, so I haven’t actually tried all of these yet. I would love to say that’s out of some kind of sense of “reviewer’s integrity,” but really, it’s just been stupidly busy ’round these parts for the last few weeks. Yes, too busy to drink beer. I know, I know–it’s so sad. Or something. Links included with the reviews below for those of you who can’t quite make out the labels.
Black Aggie (Phoenix Brewing Co.) This is some damn good beer, right here. Can we get a round of applause for the Hyperbole on this pick? It’s sincerely top notch, and I definitely was not expecting such a glorious stout from BIF. This beer pours black. Not dark brown, not the deepest brown, but black. Pitch black. And the flavors are so complex: dark stone fruit, licorice, and strong coffee make for some puzzled drinking. “These things don’t go together!” And yet… somehow, they do. There’s also a kind of smokiness wafting around in the background that balances out the bitterness I normally associate with Russian Imperial stouts. It’s heavy and full-bodied the way a fine stout should be, and I would be pleased to have this again. … But in moderation because I was definitely feeling it after only 12 ounces or so.
Look, I even shared with Mr. Riven!
Mary Jane (Phoenix Brewing Co.) This is the first one I tried. As the most basic of the bitches, there was no way I would be able to resist a Chai Baltic Porter. I could definitely taste and smell the spices; cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and cardamom all fight for dominance while dark chocolate and black coffee give them a nice field to play on. Very warm flavors, overall. It was thick enough to linger in your mouth like a porter ought to, but it didn’t cross the line into “so thick you have to chew it” as some porters will do when they’re really trying to be a stout. I would absolutely drink this again–nine times.
Toe Tag Belgian Tripel (Phoenix Brewing Co.) I have yet to try this one, but I will say that I appreciate the aesthetic that Phoenix Brewing Company has going on. This particular beer is part of their “Mortuary Series.” I don’t know what that means, but I like it. Similarly, both Black Aggie and Mary Jane above are part of the “Cemetery Series.” As a fan of all things dark, macabre, and generally odd, these things brings me plenty-much joy.
Sohio Stout (Columbus Brewing Co.) Also haven’t tried this one yet. I’m quite looking forward to trying this one, but we’re officially in Road Construction season (aka “summer”) here in the last best place. I’m going to have to wait for the next unseasonably cold day we have to really appreciate this one.
Stroh’s American Lager (Pabst Brewing Co.) Y’all can laugh, but I’m super jazzed to drink this beer tonight (7/11). We’ve had a slew of hot, humid days here, and this beer keeps looking better and better. I don’t have to lift tonight, so I will be cracking this one open after walking Briz while Mr. Riven warms up the grill.
Honestly, even if the last three beers I’ve yet to try fall flat on their faces, I would consider this BIF a huge success for me. I’m always looking for new and interesting porters and stouts, and the Hyperbole really delivered on those first two. I can’t wait to sign up again next year! (Do we really have to wait?)
The Hyperbole, who shipped to Riven:
We’re still looking for that lube
The Hyperbole gives his boss some BS about running out of material and leaves work at noon. Riven had given him the heads up and the UPS tracking number told him that the delivery was today. Sure enough, as he turns onto his street he sees a big brown van pulling away from the curb. Perfect timing. Pulling up the drive he espies a package on the stoop, a large package. ‘Maybe I got drunk and ordered that 55 gallon drum of lube’ he thinks. Nope, the return address is Riven’s – this is the stuff. The Hyperbole carefully lugs the package inside and opens it, lining the endless supply of bottles and cans on the counter. ‘You’re going to need a bigger fridge,’ he says, referencing one of the greatest movies of all time. He opens the fridge and makes room, tossing some questionably smelling leftovers and putting his emergency 30 pack of Strohs in the pantry.
To kill time while the beer chills he logs onto Glibertarian.com and finds the morning links. He reads each linked article in full, taking notes and checking sources before heading to the comments to add his commentary both serious and snarky. But before he can he notices something.
“Hmm seems everyone is making comments and picking favorites from some sort of list that a gentleman named ‘Q something or other’ posted. I wonder what that’s all about?”…..Four Hours later the beer is chilled and The Hyperbole dives in.
Montana Common – A steam beer but since Anchor TM’d the word Steam everyone else has to call them ‘common’ like a mild IPA, hoppy but not too hoppy STR½
Wild Huckleberry Lager – If you like beer with a fruity flavor this is a beer with a fruity flavor. Personally not my bag but would be nice after a hot day. ST½
Cold Smoke Scotch Ale – MMM that’s the stuff! Malty Caramel-ly Roasty goodness STRO½
Highlander Strawberry Wheat – you know what I said about fruit flavored beers not being my bag? This could be the exception. STRO
Jacks 90 Scottish Ale – Another good one, of course, one might want to take into account that I’m fairly ripped now STRO
Thanks, Riven and Thanks to Neph for setting this up, BIF is now my second or third favorite part of this website/online community/cult/whatever the fuck this thing (place) is. Cheers, The Hyperbole.
Buenos nachos Glibs! Here’s a quick take on what the Spanish speaking world now thinks of YOU…Okay, maybe not you personally.
Since I last posted links Mexico elected a new president. Some here have called him a populist, some here (I’m not pointing fingers) called him a communist. Others boldly compared him to….well.
AMLO emerge debido a una crisis de legitimidad de la clase política. Esta no ha logrado solucionar el problema de la corrupción, la decadencia económica o la violencia, que cada vez cobra más vidas. La proliferación de los carteles de la droga, asesinatos de candidatos políticos, el crimen generalizado, la rampante corrupción política y la sensación de caos no han sido resueltos bajo los gobiernos del Partido de Acción Nacional (PAN) y del Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI).
La victoria de AMLO evoca recuerdos de la victoria de Barack Obama casi 10 años atrás. Las guerras de Iraq y Afganistán más la crisis económica que estalló a menos de dos meses de las elecciones nacionales, no solo le dio a Obama un triunfo electoral aplastante, sino que también generó una euforia popular donde las expectativas del nuevo presidente eran muy altas.
AMLO, al igual que Obama, mantuvo un discurso populista, de izquierda y a la vez se mantuvo lo suficientemente ambiguo como para asegurar una amplia mayoría. También, al igual que Obama, ha prometido grandes cambios. Ha prometido combatir la corrupción y la violencia, pero no es claro como lo haría. Ha dicho que consideraría una amnistía a los carteles de la droga con el objetivo de que “logremos la paz en el país”. ¿Cómo se le puede dar amnistía a una organización criminal que no tiene interés en abandonar sus lucrativos negocios? ¿Qué poder tiene el estado mexicano para lograr concesiones de los criminales de la droga? Tal amnistía corre el riesgo de convertirse en una luz verde para el narcotráfico.
AMLO emerges due to a crisis of legitimacy of the political class. This has not managed to solve the problem of corruption, economic decadence or violence, which increasingly takes more lives. The proliferation of drug cartels, assassinations of political candidates, widespread crime, rampant political corruption and the sense of chaos have not been resolved under the governments of the National Action Party (PAN) and the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). .
AMLO’s victory evokes memories of Barack Obama’s victory almost 10 years ago. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan plus the economic crisis that erupted less than two months before the national elections, not only gave Obama an overwhelming electoral victory, but also generated a popular euphoria where the expectations of the new president were very high.
AMLO, like Obama, maintained a populist, leftist discourse and at the same time remained ambiguous enough to ensure a broad majority. Also, like Obama, he has promised big changes. He has promised to fight corruption and violence, but it is not clear how he would do it. He has said he would consider amnesty for the drug cartels with the aim of “achieving peace in the country.” How can amnesty be given to a criminal organization that has no interest in abandoning its lucrative business? What power does the Mexican state have to obtain concessions from drug criminals? Such an amnesty runs the risk of becoming a green light for drug trafficking.
Before you say anything else! There is a brief moment of sanity….
Si López Obrador no cumple por lo menos parte de sus promesas en un período razonable, su popularidad se verá disminuida. Aquí no habrá ni mesianismo ni carta blanca ilimitada.
If López Obrador does not fulfill at least part of his promises in a reasonable period, his popularity will be diminished. Here there will be neither messianism nor unlimited carte blanche.
Más de 12 horas después de entrar en la iglesia y después de pasar por un auténtico viacrucis, a Vivas le confirmaron sus peores temores: su hijo, el agente de policía Faber López Vivas, era uno de los 38 muertos de la que, según los datos del Centro Nicaragüense de Derechos Humanos (Cenidh), fue la jornada más violenta en Nicaragua desde que comenzaron las protestas contra el gobierno de Daniel Ortega y Rosario Murillo que han sido fuertemente reprimidas por antimotines y paramilitares.
Pero ella no cree en la versión oficial que dice que López Vivas fue agredido por “terroristas con armas de fuego” cuando intentaba levantar uno de los tranques de caminos que la población había puesto a modo de protesta en el departamento de Carazo. Su madre asegura que el joven fue torturado y asesinado por sus propios compañeros después de pedir la baja de las filas de la policía porque se negaba a reprimir a los manifestantes.
“Nada llena mi vacío. Nadie puede regresarme del dolor de la incertidumbre de saber que a mi hijo me lo torturaron sencillamente por pedir la baja. Me lo mataron a pellizcos, me le quitaron las uñas…”, relata la mujer en conversación telefónica con Univision Noticias.
Conozco personas que pueden ayudar …
More than 12 hours after entering the church and after going through an authentic Via Crucis, Vivas confirmed his worst fears: his son, police officer Faber López Vivas, was one of the 38 dead, according to the data from the Nicaraguan Center for Human Rights (Cenidh), was the most violent day in Nicaragua since the protests against the government of Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo began that have been strongly repressed by riot and paramilitary forces.
But she does not believe in the official version that says López Vivas was assaulted by “terrorists with firearms” when he was trying to set up one of the roadblocks that the population had put up as a protest in the department of Carazo. His mother assures that the young man was tortured and killed by his own comrades after asking to leave the ranks of the police because he refused to repress the demonstrators.
“Nothing fills my emptiness, no one can return me from the pain of the uncertainty of knowing that my son was tortured simply for asking me to leave, they pinched me, they took my nails …”, says the woman in conversation telephone with Univision News.
Según la misiva, un oficial uniformado de la Patrulla Fronteriza se percató del grupo en la llanura al sur de Tornillo, en Texas, que estaba tomando fotos de la instalación. El agente preguntó si con ellos iba alguien de la Patrulla Fronteriza o del departamento de relaciones públicas que pudiera autorizar su presencia. Un inspector de la policía neoyorquina dijo que no, y cuando el agente preguntó cómo habían llegado hasta allí, el grupo señaló hacia México, según la misiva.
El agente les dijo que habían cruzado la frontera ilegalmente y les pidió quedarse allí mientras él buscaba a un supervisor. Les pidió ir a un puesto oficial de cruce, como lo exigen las normas, dice la carta. Pero, añade, el grupo desoyó la orden, caminó hacia sus vehículos y manejaron de vuelta hacia México. Reingresaron a territorio estadounidense por otro cruce fronterizo unas tres horas más tarde, dice la carta.
Eric Phillips, portavoz de De Blasio, dijo que el grupo no hizo nada ilegal y que tenía autorización para estar allí.
“El alcalde cruzó la frontera con la aprobación directa y bajo la supervisión del supervisor local de la patrulla fronteriza en ese puerto de entrada”, dijo Phillips en un email a la AP. “Decir lo contrario es una mentira directa y un intento obvio de alguien de atacar al alcalde por su actividad a favor de las familias que están siendo separadas en la frontera por la Administración Trump”.
According to the letter, a uniformed Border Patrol official noticed the group on the plain south of Tornillo, in Texas, who was taking pictures of the facility. The agent asked if there was someone from the Border Patrol or the public relations department who could authorize his presence. A NYPD inspector said no, and when the agent asked how they got there, the group pointed to Mexico, according to the letter.
The agent told them that they had crossed the border illegally and asked them to stay there while he was looking for a supervisor. He asked them to go to an official crossing point, as required by the rules, says the letter. But, he adds, the group ignored the order, walked to their vehicles and drove back to Mexico. They reentered US territory by another border crossing about three hours later, the letter says.
Eric Phillips, spokesman for De Blasio, said the group did nothing illegal and that it was authorized to be there.
“The mayor crossed the border with direct approval and under the supervision of the local border patrol supervisor at that port of entry,” Phillips said in an email to the AP. “To say otherwise is a direct lie and an obvious attempt by someone to attack the mayor for his activity in favor of the families that are being separated at the border by the Trump Administration.”
Hey, maybe Trump will troll him by pardoning him.
Translation services available from the Alpha Beta Corporation, who remind you that technically they aren’t the government therefore they CAN sensor your news.
mexican sharpshooter has left the country temporarily, therefore he will cede the floor to Glibs participating in the BIF until he returns.
By Nephilium
Some of you may have seen my frequent posts about something called a BIF, and wondered what I was talking about. So, the participants in this most recent BIF have written up some blurbs so you can see what it’s all about (blame Yusef for the idea… Slainte Yusef!). First off, a BIF stands for Beer It Forward. The concept is you have a bunch of people who are interested in trying new beers sign up. Then you can either do a shotgun BIF (all participants ship to someone else at around the same time), or a chain BIF (a package wends its way through a list of participants, with people choosing someone off the list to ship to). The chain BIF can add a bit of excitement, as you never know when you’re getting a package, but it has the problem of long delays, and the possibility of the chain getting broken (life happens). So, for the two BIF’s I’ve ran here, they’ve been shotgun BIF’s.
Each participant was asked to put together a package that contained between 72 – 90 ounces of local beers. Why 72 – 90 ounces? It allows for a six pack of 12 oz cans/bottles, or four 22 oz bombers. Swag was permitted, but not expected. Each person was asked for their address, and beer preferences, which were passed along to the person shipping to them. I then split the participants up (roughly) by region, and randomly assigned people to ship to a different region then the one they were in. So… without further ado, we’ll start with…
Yusef, who Nephilium shipped to:
I moved to Canon City Colorado in 1995, left my Wife behind to pack while I made Money and found a Home.It got boring so I went to the Library( they didn’t have Internet back then in Colorado) and found some books about Beer, not making it, but what types and styles, and why, etc. My First real craft Beer was a New Belgium Fat Tire Brown Ale, and I was Hooked.
Not my photo, or Yusef’s
Trappist Monk Ales, Scotch Ales, anything new and different. Came back to Shit Hole Land in 1998 and found `tons of great microbreweries and have enjoyed Good beer ever since.
First off is a Sour Ale called Smiley faces from Platform Brewery, This Beer Stinks, Really, it smells of something God Awful yet tastes Delicious, Super Cloudy and Dense, 4/5
Next is FatHeads Sunshine Daydream, a Session Ipa, Some Fruity notes, and a Nutty finish, 3.5/5, it keeps hanging on through my Drunkenness, + Rammstein
Next up, Hopping Frog Infusion A, Coffee Porter, 6.2% Ambrosia in a glass, the Peanut Butter comes through before the Coffee, making for a Wonderful taste, and Thicc too, like I like my Women. 5/5 it’s that good.
Habutuale was Disappointing, it’s a good Kolsch, and finishes with a bitterness that I like, so I guess it’s good, for a Kolsch, 3/5
Bed Head Red, Sounds like me waking up, but instead is a solid, good drinker, nothing weird, and it doesn’t stink, a solid 4/5
Sibling Revelry Blood Brood, Well, Cloud City is calling, they want there Beer back, It stinks, yet tastes very good, the Haze makes me wonder how I’ll Poop tomorrow, 3.7/5
Thanks to Nephilium for putting this all together,
It finally came to pass. Upon receipt of a Glib’s name and address, I boxed up the promised Grand Canyon Shaggy Bock along with a few others I thought would be of interest. Unfortunately, Stouts tend to fall out of favor earlier in the year in Arizona than other parts of the country so I did the best I could.
On the flip side, a little under a week later I received a message from UPS and the Glib who drew my name both confirming there was a package at my door.
This is my review of Big Ditch Excavator Rye Brown Ale. Hat Tip: Lackadaisical
I don’t know about you, but when I think of Buffalo, ditches are not what come to mind. Normally, it’s hot wings, the Goo Goo Dolls, Jim Kelly and lemon scent heavy starch.
Not this guy
According to the handwritten note (nice touch, BTW) I also received, the big ditch refers to the Erie Canal. For those of us that were fans of the NFL and/or Chris Berman in the 90’s, this is not a reference to the former starting quarterback of NY (football) Giants: Danny (Erie) Kanell.
The Erie Canal was one of the first infrastructure projects in the United States. Its purpose was to connect the northeast with the rest of the country by digging a waterway starting from Troy, NY to Rome, Syracuse, Rochester and finally ending in Buffalo at Lake Erie. From there, ships could travel via the Great Lakes to ports in the midwest. Congress easily passed an appropriation for the project but interestingly enough it was vetoed by president James Monroe because, get this—he thought the idea was unconstitutional.
Jefferson didnt much care for it either (emphasis mine).
1817 June 16. (Jefferson to Albert Gallatin). “You will have learned that an act for internal improvement, after passing both Houses, was negatived by the President. The act was founded, avowedly, on the principle that the phrase in the Constitution which authorizes Congress ‘to lay taxes to pay the debts and provide for the general welfare,’ was an extension of the powers specifically enumerated to whatever would promote the general welfare…it was never meant they should provide for that welfare but by the exercise of the enumerated powers, so it could not have been meant they should raise money for purposes which the enumeration did not place under their action…I think the passage and rejection of this bill a fortunate incident…[it] will settle forever the meaning of this phrase, which, by a mere grammatical quibble, has countenanced the General Government in a claim of universal power.”
How quaint. I’m getting another beer.
Nevertheless, the project was eventually funded by the state of New York and construction began on July 4, 1817. Given the time, construction was done the hard way—with picks and shovels. Yes, the work was done mostly by immigrants.
The canal is viewed by many historians as a success. Within 15 years of construction New York City became the largest port in the country by tonnage processed, exceeding Boston, Baltimore and New Orleans—combined. Nearly 80% of the population of Upstate New York lives within 25 miles of the canal because many cities grew around the canal, much like people later settled around railways and major highways.
Is this beer any good? If you have been following my weekly beer review you might know that I happen to fancy brown ale as well as rye beer. Naturally the combination of the two I found most enjoyable. Big Ditch Excavator Rye Brown Ale: 4.2/5
Also included was the Hayburner IPA.
This isn’t as overpowering as most IPA, so if you happen to be the type that is in search of the most horrifying, tear inducing IPA possible—keep looking. If you happen to be more of a traditionalist as far as IPA is concerned, you may like this. If you happen to find the idea of IPA to be in poor taste, stick to what you like. Big Ditch Hayburner IPA: 3.5/5
More to come on the Spring Beer it Forward…stay tuned.
Es esperable que la salida de Kennedy, de 81 años, abra una fuerte partidario entre liberales y conservadores sobre el futuro del máximo tribunal.
Kennedy ha sido durante mucho tiempo y en muchas ocasiones el voto decisivo en casos estrechamente divididos. El récord de votos de Kennedy es de moderado a conservador
It is expected that the departure of Kennedy, 81, open a strong supporter between liberals and conservatives on the future of the highest court.
Kennedy has been for a long time and on many occasions the decisive vote in narrowly divided cases. Kennedy’s record of votes is moderate to conservative
Sorry, wrong Kennedy.
By now you probably heard about the executive order. This is pretty much what is all over the Spanish media, so I will start you out with this editorial:
En un psicodrama desplegado a escala gigante en la frontera de Estados Unidos con México, el gobierno del presidente Donald Trump está separando a los niños inmigrantes de sus padres y los mantiene bajo custodia. Los funcionarios lo explican como una política de “cero tolerancia” contra quienes llegan al país ilegalmente. Para mí, como biógrafo de Trump, se trata de una recreación del propio trauma infantil del mandatario y una prueba anecdótica de que una actitud abusiva hacia los niños puede pasar de una generación a otra. […]
En lugar de recibir el cuidado que merecen los extraños necesitados, las familias de inmigrantes están soportando el tipo de trato que reduce la capacidad de Estados Unidos por abogar a favor de los derechos humanos en todo el mundo. ¿Cómo un país que maltrata así a niños va a oponerse con credibilidad a los abusos de derechos humanos perpetrados por otros regímenes en el exterior? Evidentemente, debilita la credibilidad de EE.UU. en cualquier protesta contra las acciones autoritarias en Corea del Norte o Filipinas o Venezuela, por nombrar solo tres lugares donde Estados Unidos debe alzar la voz en defensa de los derechos humanos.
Dentro del país, la medida de Trump ignora tontamente el hecho de que la crueldad puede enfurecer y radicalizar a las víctimas y los espectadores e inspirarlos a defenderse (Los terroristas y criminales nacen de este tipo de trato). También genera un trauma moral a los ciudadanos estadounidenses que quieren creer que su nación representa algo mejor. ¿Cómo se supone que debemos mantener en nuestros corazones tanto la Estatua de la Libertad como las fotos de los niños encarcelados?
In a psychodrama deployed on a giant scale on the US-Mexico border, the government of President Donald Trump is separating immigrant children from their parents and keeping them in custody. The officials explain it as a policy of “zero tolerance” against those who arrive in the country illegally. For me, as Trump’s biographer, it is a recreation of the president’s own childhood trauma and anecdotal evidence that an abusive attitude towards children can pass from one generation to another. […]
Instead of receiving the care that needy strangers deserve, immigrant families are enduring the kind of treatment that reduces the ability of the United States to advocate for human rights around the world. How can a country that mistreats children like this go to oppose with credibility the human rights abuses perpetrated by other regimes abroad? Evidently, it weakens the credibility of the United States. in any protest against authoritarian actions in North Korea or the Philippines or Venezuela, to name just three places where the United States should raise its voice in defense of human rights.
Within the country, Trump’s move ignores foolishly the fact that cruelty can infuriate and radicalize victims and viewers and inspire them to defend themselves (Terrorists and criminals are born of this type of treatment). It also generates a moral trauma to American citizens who want to believe that their nation represents something better. How are we supposed to keep in our hearts both the Statue of Liberty and the photos of imprisoned children?
This pretty much goes on for a while….
17 States mount a legal challenge to Bush’sObama’sTrump’s The policy of separating children from the parents and taking their parents out back to shoot them.
El fiscal general de Washington, Bob Ferguson, dijo que liderará una coalición de estados en la demanda.
La medida, que según reportes se espera que sea presentada el jueves en el estado de Washington, alega que la administración de Trump violó los derechos del debido proceso de los padres y niños que fueron separados.
Ferguson calificó la política de “arbitraria y caprichosa” e “irracionalmente discriminatoria” porque se dirige a individuos cercanos a la frontera sur de Estados Unidos.
“Esta es una política deshonesta, cruel e inconstitucional”, dijo Ferguson en un comunicado. “Vamos a detenerlo”.
Washington Attorney General Bob Ferguson said he will lead a coalition of states in the lawsuit.
The measure, which according to reports is expected to be presented Thursday in Washington State, alleges that the Trump administration violated the due process rights of parents and children who were separated.
Ferguson called the policy “arbitrary and capricious” and “irrationally discriminatory” because it targets individuals close to the southern border of the United States.
“This is a dishonest, cruel and unconstitutional policy,” Ferguson said in a statement. “We are going to stop him.
Whatever, dude. Maybe you’ll have better luck than the last time a bunch of states filed a lawsuit over immigration policy.
Polls close for the Mexican election on 1 July. Fun fact: Mexico bans the sale of alcohol on election day.
A menos de una semana de las elecciones más grandes en la historia de México, donde alrededor de 89 millones de personas están convocados a elegir al nuevo presidente del país y a los representantes de 3,400 cargos públicos, las autoridades electorales detallaron cómo será el proceso de conteo de votos una vez que las urnas cierren el próximo domingo 1 de julio.
Less than a week away from the largest elections in the history of Mexico, where around 89 million people are called to elect the new president of the country and representatives of 3,400 public officials, the electoral authorities detailed how It will be the process of counting votes once the polls close next Sunday, July 1.
El caso de Meade es, de algún modo, el revés del candidato puntero, el izquierdista Andrés Manuel López Obrador (Morena-PT-PES), a quien sus críticos más duros lo desprecian por no hablar inglés y haberse tardado más de 10 años en acabar la universidad pública.
A pesar de esas ‘desventajas’, López Obrador hoy lidera las encuestas en casi 50% de intención de voto, llena plazas, sus discursos emocionan y la gente lo aclama.
A lo largo de los casi tres meses de campaña, Pepe Meade —como coloquialmente se le llama— se ha estancado en el tercer lugar de las preferencias electorales, con un 20% de intención de voto en promedio.
¿Sabes quién más hizo este gesto?
The case of Meade is, in some way, the setback of the leading candidate, the leftist Andrés Manuel López Obrador (Morena-PT-PES), whom his harshest critics despise him for not speaking English and having taken more than 10 years in finish the public university.
Despite these ‘disadvantages’, López Obrador today leads the polls in almost 50% of voting intentions, he fills seats, his speeches move and people cheer him.
Throughout the almost three months of the campaign, Pepe Meade – as he is colloquially called – has stagnated in the third place of the electoral preferences, with a 20% intention to vote on average.
Translation services available from the Alpha Beta Corporation. Who are still watching….all of you.
Swiss decided to challenge me again. This time instead of the worst possible beer I could get my hands on I was to locate the absolute snootiest of snooty beer. Unfortunately, I might have painted myself into a corner with the deadline in this one. I told him I would have it finished before the Beer it Forward piece.
This might have been my fault.
Up first was the second most interesting thing I could find at AJ’s, a local high-end grocer. By high end grocer I mean in the same neighborhood as a Catholic high school with yoga pants wearing Catholic schoolgirl types. Why the second most interesting? The most
interesting thing was barrel aged Old Rasputin and quite frankly I already did an article on that one. The best part was I actually wrote that one at work (Rufus).
This one to put it bluntly is quite good. It reminds me a lot of a Belgian quadrupel ale with a lot of spices we typically associate with fall. I would probably enjoy it more if it wasn’t 115 degrees. Still, I give The Brurey Autumn Maple a solid 4 pinky’s out of 5
I woke up with a splitting headache. Slightly nauseated. Loss of appetite.
“You’re not hungover.” Sugarfree said. He had settled himself in a lotus position on top of a rock conveniently placed in the sun. A small mirror was in the dirt with grayish black powder strewn about its surface. He appeared to be meditating but when most people do that they normally aren’t twisting their nipples. I hesitated to ask why he felt the need to do this naked.
Quite frankly I didn’t want to know.
I noticed a small pile of spent 5.56 NATO ammunition near our campground. Next to Sugarfree’s meditating rock I found more empty cartridges along with their corresponding projectiles. They looked like they had been pulled out using teeth as a vice.
“What happened last night?” I asked.
“STEVE SMITH HAPPENED.” Sugarfree replied.
“I gathered that.” I said. Sheepishly examining my ass. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
“You shot him six times. It left a convenient trail for us to follow.” Sugarfree explained. He opened his eyes. You did the worst thing you could possibly do to STEVE SMITH.”
“…shoot him?”
“You frustrated him.”
“Oh…goody.”
“That’s why I took the pews from your assault pew pew thingy and snorted the pew powder inside.”
“Of course you did…did you do that with all 210 rounds I had?”
Sugarfree stood atop his rock, turned around and bent over. He let out a hearty cough while coming to a squat. The procedure allowed me to infer he ate at few bullets.
“37.” He answered. It then occurred to me I could’ve just checked my bag to see if he stole all my ammunition. “I got full.”
*Honk* *Honk* *Honk*
“What the hell?” I asked. Looking down the trail I noticed a plume of dirt approaching us quickly.
“This just got better.” Sugarfree explained. “He found us!”
“Who found us?”
A Subaru Forester came to a abrupt stop in front of our campground. A skinny hipster wearing a dirty, vintage t-shirt and skinny jeans stepped out. He turned and looked in Sugarfree’s direction but stopped abruptly.
“Did any of you guys call an Uber?” He asked.
“In the middle of the woods?” I was confused.
“Oh okay. He told me you’d ask me that.” The hipster said.
I noticed he was still behind the door.
“Who told you that?” I asked, still confused.
“The man who gave me this.” The hipster reached into the Subaru and pulled out a box. In his haste, he
revealed he had a bloody stump, wrapped with a linen dressing.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“He told me you would need a hand.” The Uber driver curled up into a fetal position and began to cry uncontrollably. I opened the box to find a soft, white hand still holding an iPhone inside a red, silicone case with a white cross.
“Judas Titty Fucking Priest.” I said out loud, to myself.
“He told me…you’d…say that too.” The Uber driver managed to get out between sobs.
Sugarfree drummed a catchy tune across his stomach then twiddled his fingers in the air. “Narrowed gaze…”
The phone then began ringing in the classic bluegrass ringtone.
_____
“Hi, this is Anna with Swiss Corpse International Industries, how are you today?” Swiss got a new receptionist. This one was particularly bubbly.
“It’s pronounced core…”. I said flatly.
“Please hold, I’m going to try to patch you through…I’m still learning this so in case we get disconnected call 312–“
“No! Don’t you fucking do it, do not give out his number! HE WILL MURDER YOU!”
“Connecting you now.” Swiss always has the sweetest receptionists. It’s terrible he could never find one that meets the Swiss standard of perfection.
“…Damnit mex. You have any idea the pickle you have me in?” Swiss was yelling, I pulled the phone away from my ear, slightly.
“I’m in the woods with Sugarfree, and he lost his pants. Do tell me how your date with the Uber driver went…did he give a reach around?” I turned to check on Sugarfree, and found that he had gathered a number of small rocks arranged into a circle.
“No. Why do you think I told him to give you a handy?” The fucker had me cornered.
“Fine. Go.” I said. Sugarfree had gathered a surprising amount of kindling.
“You have any idea how long you two have been out there?”
“No, but I bet your watch has a date complication that confirms how long I’ve been gone.”
“You’re damn right it does. Without a date complication a Rolex Datejust is just a ‘just’ now isn’t it?” For a guy that hates puns and the people that make them, he was on a roll. Even if that one was terrible. “I didn’t think this ‘ass-dog’ thing would be such an issue for you. So you need to get something straight….”
Swiss was gonna straighten me out.
“Okay…”
“I just found the most awesome watering hole.”
“Okay…” I said as I noticed Sugarfree got a small fire going.
“You should see the chick that works there.”
“Okay…”
“Okay? She has an unbelievable ass.”
“Okay…”
“Don’t ruin this for me!”
“Okay…sorry…?” I gave Sugarfree an inquisitive look. He began to examine the Uber driver’s hand.
“You should be sorry, now I’m down three posters this week. I’m sending Warty your way.”
“Warty!” Sugarfree started jumping up and down, clapping with the Uber driver’s severed hand. I turned away since I rather not see his junk bouncing along with him.
“What? Why? I have this Tiny-ass Dog thing down.” I tried my best to be confident.
“Bullshit. You have any idea what the commenters said last week? We had them bitching about random shit from jezebel and jihadwatch. Then they started to Gilmore threads on corrupted titty-links. You have any idea what happens if you don’t channel the Saturday day drinking rage towards something that’s tangentially related to beer?”
“…..no.” If said yes, I feared he’d send me another hipster that would be paid to cut his own heart out and eat it in front of me. At this point Sugarfree had the Uber driver’s hand on a spit over the fire.
“Warty is of approximate size to STEVE SMITH. You have the best tracker, and the best possible deterrent. Make.This.Happen.” The call was over as quickly as it started.
“What are you doing?” I asked Sugarfree.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Sugarfree replied.
“I have a granola bar in my bag….” I lied. I ran out of food several days ago, and if I had any I wasn’t about to give any to Sugarfree.
“I can’t eat that. I’ve totally gone Keto.” He turned the hand over. “Sugarfree isn’t just some moniker, it’s a lifestyle.”
_____
We followed the blood trail. Sugarfree was right, and since I did get a few hits it was much easier to track STEVE SMITH. The only problem was the drops became fewer and fewer, as if he had some kind of magical healing ability.
“He has a magical healing ability.” Sugarfree said. He really needs to get out of my head. “It makes him hard to track.”
“Seriously, you need to stop doing that. I don’t know how I think of something and then you immediately answer me back with a relevant response.” I said.
“I hear voices. Sometimes they sound like you. Other times they are just voices.” Sugarfree replied back ominously.
“Are you hearing any others?”
“Just yours.”
A soft rustling in the bushes ahead got the attention of the two of us. I couldn’t make out what was behind it.
“STEVE.” I asked. “Look we need to talk…man. I’m not trying to hunt you or your kin.” I flipped the safety off. “I just want the tiny ass dog back.”
More rustling came from behind us. I pivoted around in a low ready stance while Sugarfree kept spinning with his arms in the air.
“Lets be reasonable STEVE.” I knew there was nothing reasonable about that request.
“Look. If you shoot me. I’m going to have to break you, and I’d rather not do that, but I will if I have to. You already made me miss my short workout for today, and I need to make up for it.” The voice in the bushes responded.
“WARTY!!” Sugarfree started jumping up and down clapping. Thankfully he found his pants a mile back.
“Wait, you’re Warty?” I asked. That can’t be Warty. This was a guy dressed like a Victorian-era explorer, monacle and everything. “I was expecting somebody–”
“Bigger?” He asked.
“Yes. Bigger, balder, looks like he’s seen the inside of a gym.”
“Its just my disguise.” Warty explained. “Sugarfree and I go a long ways back in tracking STEVE SMITH; going back years. He’s not the type that will approach unless he thinks he has the upper hand. He’s been lethal as early as eight months, and I do mean lethal. I’ve hunted most things that can hunt you, but the way he moves…”
“He’s fast.” Sugarfree interjected. He began doing a dance reminiscent of the TechnoViking.
“Cheetah speed. Fifty, sixty miles an hour if he ever gets out into the open, and he’s an astonishing jumper…” Warty continued.
“I’ve heard this somewhere before.” I said.
“He shows extreme intelligence, even problem-solving intelligence. That one… when he looks at you, you can see he’s working things out. That’s why we had to feed him like that. He was attacking the fences when the feeders came…”
“Like an electric fence?” I asked.
“That’s right, but he never attacks the same place twice. He was testing the fences for weaknesses, systematically. He remembers…” Warty didn’t come up with this line. He got that from somewhere.
“He totally got that from Jurassic Park.” Sugarfree did it again.
“I told you to stop doing that.”
“Stop what?” Warty asked.
“He does this thing where I think of something, and he responds to what I am thinking with an eerily appropriate response.” I replied. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD.”
“Yeah, he does that. You get used to it.”
“The mind reading bit? I’m supposed to get used to that?”
“Don’t think of it as Sugarfree listening to your thoughts. Its more like breaking the fourth wall, except the wall is your head, and you’re his audience.” Warty explained. “And his purpose is to use your thoughts to terrify you.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Warty said, working the massive bolt on his Holland and Holland “Bolt Action Magazine” rifle chambered in .375H&H. “We have a sasquatch to find.” He began waking quietly down the trail.
“Dog. We’re finding my little ass dog.” I said.
“Sasquatch.”
_____
“Sugarfree. Quiet down.” Warty said quietly.
Darkness had fallen. We were peeking over the edge of a berm. I could just barely make out the form of the little dog under a bush.
“If I make a break for it, I bet I can grab it and go.” I whispered.
“We can’t.” Warty whispered back.
“Why not?”
“We’re being hunted….” Warty whispered ominously. Sweat began to bead across his brow as he flexed the massive muscles that worked his jaw. His disguise was fading. He turned quickly to me. “GO!”
Sugarfree made a break for it. “AYE YA YIE!”
“Not you! Damnit.” Warty said.
We both turned and saw it….
“Clever girl…..” Warty whispered. The cat slowly began to walk towards us, contemplating which one of us was easier to eat.
STEVE SMITH LIKE NICE KITTY. STEVE SMITH TAKE NICE KITTY HOME. BY TAKE NICE KITTY HOME….
The mountain lion struggled against STEVE SMITH’S massive, hairy arms and his massive hug. It screeched like a housecat that got caught under a wheel well in the winter when it gets cold out and it wants to get warm from proximity to the engine.
OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH
“This is messed up. Let’s just get the dog and go.” Warty said.
_____
We celebrated later at a hotel and discovered they had Alesmith Speedway Stout on hand. It was a fantastic imperial stout that rounded out our evenings with intense notes of chocolate and coffee. I gave it a solid 4.5 pinkies out of 5. I then considered something doesn’t add up, as a hotel probably wouldn’t have this sort of thing on hand.
“It’s only a plot hole if you don’t acknowledge the existence of the plot hole.” Sugarfree said.
Back in the day it was determined that certain things brought people together. When enough people in a small group unite for common cause, one might just call them a team. Under most circumstances, teams are a good thing, but what is it they are uniting under?
A pin-up girl.
This is my review of Auburn Alehouse Pu240 Imperial IPA.
In 1944 the US Army Air Corps aircrew under Regulation 35-22, were allowed to decorate their aircraft with nose art, so long as they were done so with a “sense of decency.” This was done in contrast with the US Navy/Marines, who did not allow nose art at the time. The Air Corps allowed it because such images raised morale.
Nose art does not necessarily mean only pin-up girls. This is really a continuation of a tradition some believe date to the Greeks painting eyes on their Triemes. The German Luftwaffe was believed to be the first to paint the iconic shark mouth on Bf. 110. This lead to the Royal Air Force copying them, and finally the First American Volunteer Group—better known as the Flying Tigers. The US. Air Force to this day pays homage to these aviators with the A-10. Another example is aircrews using cartoon characters such as Donald Duck, to decorate their planes.
That said, we just remember the pin-up girls. Aircrews in the Pacific Theater took advantage of their lower public profile and often had art that pushed the bounds of the decency rule, such as Butterfly Baby but the most famous planes in that part of the world had no girls at all. This in contrast with planes such as Memphis Belle from the Mighty 8th AF in England were a bit more understated. So…here you go.
[Insert Tail Gunner Joke Here]
Thankfully, Auburn makes an IPA that lives up to their artwork. If you are a fan of this style, or you are the type that like to drink exactly one beer over the course of hours, this one is a good call. Good body, pungent hop aroma and a healthy abv. Auburn Alehouse Pu240 Imperial IPA: 3.8/5.
Canadá, México y Estados Unidos organizarán el Mundial de fútbol de 2026.
La candidatura conjunta recibió 134 votos, mientras que Marruecos, el otro postulante, recibió 65.
Esta será la tercera vez que México organiza un Mundial, después de 1970 y 1986. Para Estados Unidos será el segundo, ya que fue sede en 1994, y la primera vez para Canadá.
Canada, Mexico and the United States will organize the 2026 World Cup.
The joint bid received 134 votes, while Morocco, the other candidate, received 65.
This will be the third time that Mexico has organized a World Cup, after 1970 and 1986. For the United States, it will be the second, since it hosted in 1994, and the first time for Canada.
They actually have a history of unethical behavior with regards to adoption. Feel free to look that up at your leisure. I wonder if they asked to Pope to chime in on this one?
Este miércoles la Cámara de Diputados de Argentina vota la ley de despenalización del aborto.
Hay mucha incertidumbre sobre la decisión final porque en la antesala la votación es muy pareja. La Ley de Interrupción Voluntaria del Embarazo ha sido rechazada seis veces en once años.
El debate comenzará a las 11 a.m. hora local este miércoles y se espera que se extienda hasta la madrugada del jueves.
This Wednesday the Chamber of Deputies of Argentina votes the law of decriminalization of abortion.
There is a lot of uncertainty about the final decision because in the anteroom the vote is very even. The Law of Voluntary Interruption of Pregnancy has been rejected six times in eleven years.
The debate will begin at 11 a.m. local time this Wednesday and is expected to extend until early Thursday.
Corrupt Mexican politicians engage in a spirited, televised debate over who is the most corrupt…or least. I don’t for sure.
A las 20:45 horas, quince minutos antes de que comenzara el debate, en la página de Youtube Caso Anaya se hicieron públicos un audio de casi cuatro horas y un video de 52 minutos sobre los presuntos actos de corrupción que habría cometido Ricardo Anaya en colaboración con el empresario Manuel Barreiro, un caso que ha marcado las campañas en la última semana.
Sin embargo, el tema de estos nuevos videos pasó inadvertido por los aspirantes y los tres moderadores del debate, los periodistas Gabriela Warkentin, Carlos Puig y Leonardo Curzio. Como ha venido repitiendo desde hace días, Anaya aseguró que las acusaciones son una campaña sucia en su contra por parte del gobierno federal.
“Yo he sido blanco de una campaña brutal de ataques, de infamias, porque cuando dije que cuando sea presidente habrá una Fiscalía independiente para investigar a Peña Nieto, para investigar Ayotzinapa, la casa blanca. Por decir esto, me atacan. No les tengo miedo”, dijo el panista.
Anaya insistió en que López Obrador ha pactado con el gobierno de Enrique Peña Nieto para que éste último no sea perseguido.
At 20:45 hours, fifteen minutes before the debate began, on the Youtube Anaya Case page, an audio of almost four hours and a 52 minute video about the alleged acts of corruption committed by Ricardo Anaya in collaboration with businessman Manuel Barreiro, a case that has marked the campaigns in the last week.
However, the subject of these new videos went unnoticed by the aspirants and the three moderators of the debate, journalists Gabriela Warkentin, Carlos Puig and Leonardo Curzio. As he has been repeating for days, Anaya said that the accusations are a dirty campaign against him by the federal government.
“I have been the target of a brutal campaign of attacks, of infamies, because when I said that when I became president there would be an independent prosecutor’s office to investigate Peña Nieto, to investigate Ayotzinapa, the white house. For saying this, they attack me. I’m not afraid of them, “said the PAN.
Anaya insisted that López Obrador has agreed with the government of Enrique Peña Nieto so that the latter will not be persecuted.
“I have not agreed with him. I have not seen him in six years, “Lopez Obrador repeated again and again.
In response to the attacks he received from Anaya and Meade, Morena’s candidate said: “They are desperate. What fault do I have that you are tied? They believe that here in the debate they will go back 30 points. Serénense. ”
At times, the central themes of the debate – economic growth, poverty and inequality, education, science, technology, health, sustainable development and climate change – were left aside by the aspirants
Las gasolineras y supermercados de Managua se desbordaron de ciudadanos este martes. Compraban e intentaban llegar antes de las seis de la noche a sus hogares, temerosos de los posibles ataques paramilitares en calles. Los empresarios acababan de dar un paso que no se habían atrevido a hacer hasta ahora.
149 muertos después y ante el recrudecimiento de la violencia a manos de grupos paramilitares, los empresarios de Nicaragua decidieron jugar este martes su carta “más extrema” contra el gobierno de Daniel Ortega: la convocatoria a un ‘paro nacional’ para exigir la democratización del país y el cese inmediato de la represión.
La patronal lo anunció la noche de este martes junto a los otros sectores que conforman la Alianza Cívica por la Justicia y la Democracia –que agrega a universitarios, sociedad civil y campesinos–, quienes han sido la contraparte en el diálogo mediado por los obispos, proceso que desde mediados de mayo está paralizado.
“Nosotros, como miembros de la Alianza Cívica por la Justicia y la Democracia, ante las condiciones extremas que vive Nicaragua, en solidaridad con las víctimas y reconociendo el derecho a las legítimas formas de defensa hemos decidido: llamar a un paro nacional de 24 horas a partir de las cero horas del día jueves 14 de junio de este año y terminando a las 11:59 de la noche del mismo día”, informó José Adán Aguerri, presidente del Consejo Superior de la Empresa Privada (Cosep), organización que antes del inicio de la crisis sociopolítica el 18 de abril mantenía una relación “de diálogo y consenso” con la administración sandinista.
The gas stations and supermarkets in Managua overflowed with citizens on Tuesday. They bought and tried to reach their homes before six o’clock at night, afraid of possible paramilitary attacks on the streets. The entrepreneurs had just taken a step that they had not dared to do until now.
149 killed later and before the upsurge of violence at the hands of paramilitary groups, the Nicaraguan businessmen decided to play their “most extreme” letter against the Daniel Ortega government on Tuesday: the call for a “national strike” to demand the democratization of the country and the immediate cessation of repression.
The employers announced it on Tuesday night along with the other sectors that make up the Civic Alliance for Justice and Democracy – which adds to university students, civil society and farmers – who have been the counterpart in the dialogue mediated by the bishops, process that since mid-May is paralyzed.
“We, as members of the Civic Alliance for Justice and Democracy, faced with the extreme conditions that Nicaragua is experiencing, in solidarity with the victims and recognizing the right to legitimate forms of defense, have decided: to call a 24-hour national strike From zero hours on Thursday, June 14 of this year and ending at 11:59 in the evening of the same day, “said José Adán Aguerri, president of the Superior Council of Private Enterprise (Cosep), an organization At the beginning of the socio-political crisis on April 18, it maintained a relationship “of dialogue and consensus” with the Sandinista administration.
Buenos Dias Gliberinos! I’m probably asleep right now, but thanks to the time travel technology designed by the Mayans, I have been able to bring you Mexican links from yesterday!
I pulled up to the house and dismounted. I pushed the blue button on the intercom.
“It’s rather dusty outside. Please, remove your shoes.” He said. I noticed he too was barefoot, and obliged. “Can I interest you in a glass of Romanian wine?” He motioned to a room with a glass door; hundreds of bottles of wine were neatly placed on wooden racks. With a child, aged 12, inside dutifully turning one a half turn.
“With falafel. Here, have some more.” The Old Man added another three to my plate.
I found myself walking through a field of grain. I was in Iowa or something, because I could see a sign that said, “Des Moines 20 miles,” with black smoke billowing from a small city in the distance.
I received a bonanza of a BIF Box from Yusef drives a Kia, with a nice Stone Brewing Pint glass, and several coasters along with an assortment of high-end west coast beers, including 2-22s, one of a tripel ale and one of a double bock. As much as I enjoy Belgian style ales, I think the Belgians do it best, so I will focus on the Double Bock. Special Black Lobotomy Bock poured with surprisingly little head, even from vigorous pours. I would put this attribute in the positive column, as carbonation was still sufficient to keep things enjoyable and I rather dislike drinking suds. The beer is alluringly dark, as can be seen in the accompanying photograph, invoking mystery and exotic flavors. The taste is malty but not bitter, and lacks the chocolate or coffee hints that a stout might have. The finish is smooth and doesn’t leave any errant aftertaste.
Uh, so I haven’t actually tried all of these yet. I would love to say that’s out of some kind of sense of “reviewer’s integrity,” but really, it’s just been stupidly busy ’round these parts for the last few weeks. Yes, too busy to drink beer. I know, I know–it’s so sad. Or something. Links included with the reviews below for those of you who can’t quite make out the labels.
AMLO emerge debido a una crisis de legitimidad de la clase política. Esta no ha logrado solucionar el problema de la corrupción, la decadencia económica o la violencia, que cada vez cobra más vidas. La proliferación de los carteles de la droga, asesinatos de candidatos políticos, el crimen generalizado, la rampante corrupción política y la sensación de caos no han sido resueltos bajo los gobiernos del Partido de Acción Nacional (PAN) y del Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI).
Habutuale was Disappointing, it’s a good Kolsch, and finishes with a bitterness that I like, so I guess it’s good, for a Kolsch, 3/5
In a psychodrama deployed on a giant scale on the US-Mexico border, the government of President Donald Trump is separating immigrant children from their parents and keeping them in custody. The officials explain it as a policy of “zero tolerance” against those who arrive in the country illegally. For me, as Trump’s biographer, it is a recreation of the president’s own childhood trauma and anecdotal evidence that an abusive attitude towards children can pass from one generation to another. […]
Up first was the second most interesting thing I could find at AJ’s, a local high-end grocer. By high end grocer I mean in the same neighborhood as a Catholic high school with yoga pants wearing Catholic schoolgirl types. Why the second most interesting? The most
I woke up with a splitting headache. Slightly nauseated. Loss of appetite.
A Subaru Forester came to a abrupt stop in front of our campground. A skinny hipster wearing a dirty, vintage t-shirt and skinny jeans stepped out. He turned and looked in Sugarfree’s direction but stopped abruptly.
“You’re damn right it does. Without a date complication a Rolex Datejust is just a ‘just’ now isn’t it?” For a guy that hates puns and the people that make them, he was on a roll. Even if that one was terrible. “I didn’t think this ‘ass-dog’ thing would be such an issue for you. So you need to get something straight….”
“Its just my disguise.” Warty explained. “Sugarfree and I go a long ways back in tracking STEVE SMITH; going back years. He’s not the type that will approach unless he thinks he has the upper hand. He’s been lethal as early as eight months, and I do mean lethal. I’ve hunted most things that can hunt you, but the way he moves…”
We celebrated later at a hotel and discovered they had Alesmith Speedway Stout on hand. It was a fantastic imperial stout that rounded out our evenings with intense notes of chocolate and coffee. I gave it a solid 4.5 pinkies out of 5. I then considered something doesn’t add up, as a hotel probably wouldn’t have this sort of thing on hand.
Nose art does not necessarily mean only pin-up girls. This is really a continuation of a tradition some believe date to the Greeks painting eyes on their Triemes. The German Luftwaffe was believed to be the first to paint the iconic shark mouth on Bf. 110. This lead to the Royal Air Force copying them, and finally the First American Volunteer Group—better known as the Flying Tigers. The US. Air Force to this day pays homage to these aviators with the A-10. Another example is aircrews using cartoon characters such as Donald Duck, to decorate their planes.
Sé que estaba en los enlaces de la mañana, pero….