Even though I rarely use recipes, I love them. They provide me with inspiration and ideas for combinations I may never have thought of on my own. I also love cookbooks, especially those that focus on techniques or a cooking philosophy. It’s not unusual to find me spending a Sunday afternoon curled up on the couch with the dog and a cookbook. Today, I’d like to recommend a few cookbooks that I turn to over and over.
First is “An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace” by Tamar Adler. This isn’t your typical cookbook. She has modeled it after M.F.K. Fisher’s “How to Cook a Wolf” and it is thus more like a series of essays about how to eat. Each chapter is organized around a method or ingredient and her guiding philosophy shines through. I think her philosophy could be summed up as ‘Start and keep going.’ I just love her writing. It is beautiful and she really captures cooking – not just eating – as a sensual act. Take care with your cooking and plating and you will be satisfied with less because you have satisfied all your senses, not just taste.
Sprinkled through the chapters are recipes that illustrate the methods or use the ingredients she has just discussed. Reading her descriptions, you can almost taste the dishes. Her writing is reassuring as well. Yes, you’ll make mistakes. It will be okay, there are sections devoted to explaining how to save your mistakes. If your pork chop came out dry, it can be turned into hash. I wish I’d had this book years ago, but I’m not sure I would have truly appreciated it then.
Growing up, vegetables were usually boiled until soggy and served as is. I hated them. Boiled vegetables can be wonderful (see Tamar Adler’s book) if treated correctly, but it took me years to get over my hatred of boiled vegetables. If you grew up like I did, then Susie Middleton’s “Fast, Fresh, & Green” may change your life. This book is all about how to cook vegetables so you want to eat them Each chapter is organized around a specific technique like roasting or sautéing. She gives you a base method/recipe and then several specific recipes as examples. Her Sautéed Sugar Snaps with Salami Crisps is wonderful. I sometimes make it with snow peas.
The principle behind “Ratio” by Michael Ruhlman is that you don’t need a recipe as long as you understand the appropriate ratio behind the dish. He delves into the science of cooking more than Susie Middleton or Tamar Adler. The book is organized like a typical cookbook – Doughs and Batters, Sauces, Sausages, etc and carefully explains the science behind the ratio. This is the book that inspired me to start experimenting when baking and resulted in my Holy Mole brownies.
Another book that investigates the science of cooking is “Cooking for Geeks: Real Science, Great Hacks, and Good Food” by Jeff Potter. I love this book because it, more than any other cookbook I’ve read, encourages you to experiment. Want to test the calibration of your oven, it explains how to use sugar to do so. Why are copper bowls good for making meringues? Potter explains. There are directions to make your own seitan, a DIY sous vide and resources for finding molecular gastronomy supplies like meat glue. I enjoyed the recipe to make brownies using orange peels as a little cup. Fun!
The newest addition to my library is “Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat: Mastering the Elements of Good Cooking” by Samin Nosrat. Like Adler, she is an alumnae of Chez Panisse. I find Alice Waters insufferable in interviews, but she raises good cookbook authors. This book is all about how to cook – how to use salt and fat and acid and heat to make good food. The first half of the book explains techniques, interspersed with her memories of learning to cook at home and in a restaurant. It almost feels like part memoir. The recipes start after she has explained how to cook. The book is illustrated and the illustrations remind me of Mollie Katzen’s work (excellent vegetarian cookbooks). Every recipe has variations at the end. I used her best pan fried chicken to make pork schnitzel.
If you watched Alton Brown’s “Good Eats”, then Shirley O. Corriher is likely familiar to you. She used to show up and lecture Alton about food science. Unfortunately, her cookbooks read like textbooks and she is giving a lecture. They delve deeply into the science of cooking. If you want to understand how to make a tender pie crust instead of a flaky one, she makes it clear. Each recipe explicitly lists what it is intended to illustrates. They are truly useful references, but not something you want to curl up with on the couch on a rainy day.
“The Joy of Cooking” is an all purpose cookbook. Each chapter and section starts by telling you ‘about’ the method or ingredient. For example ‘About Pancakes’ gives tips for success and is followed by a lot (I mean a lot) of recipes. If you need to know how long and what temperature to use for that four pound roast, “The Joy of Cooking” has got you covered. It is also useful for learning the tips of success (how do I make a good dumpling) and finding a basic recipe that can serve as a base for experimentation, but I rarely make any of the actual recipes here. I just learn what goes into a typical pancake or dumpling or beef stew and go from there.
The final BIF submission is by MikeS, and I said, its a doozy:
First; apologies for my tardiness both in shipping and in getting everything drank drunk drinked quaffed. Life got in the way.
ron73440 sent me some really good beer as well as some nice swag; including a pint coozie that has already seen a fair share of use. I don’t have the palate of a professional reviewer, so bear with me.
Here we go…Glibs beer tasting; “Life on the Farm Edition”:
No, this is not George Jones’ lawn tractor.
O’Connor Green Can Golden Ale
Crisp and clean. Refreshing. Mild citrus aftertaste. Good lawn mower beer. If you have a friend who refuses to drink anything other than BMC, and you live by O’Connor, have them try this. 3.7/5
O’Connor Norfolk Canyon Pale Ale
Very similar to Green Can, just more hops. Decent. Passable PA. I’m sure PA fans would like it. 3.1/5
Three Notch’d Hydraulion Red
Nice reddish-gold color. Can’t explain taste very well. A tish sweet…caramel notes? Damn good. 4.1/5
Midnight Brewery Rockville Red Irish Red Ale
Slightly different than the Hydraulion. Not as much sweet (not that the Hydra’ was overly sweet). A little more carbonation. A little less flavor than the Hydra’. Honestly, a little bland. 3.2/5
Belhaven Scottish Ale
Good beer. A little sweet. Smooth. What is that I’m tasting…malt I think? Like the malt in a malted milk. Not a lot, just a touch. And the faintest bit of dryness on the backend. This is going down pretty quick. I like this beer. 4.3/5
Midnight Brewery Not My Job English Brown Ale
Not bad. Almost “light” considering it’s a brown ale. This is one of those beers that would shock your friends who think all dark beers can be cut with a knife. But there is something there I don’t quite like…a dryness at the end. It’s not a deal breaker, just not what I expected. 3.5/5
O’Conner Odis Black as Sin Stout
First off; I tried shining a very bright light through the glass. No go. This is black as an IRA bomb maker’s soul. First taste was like toast dipped in coffee…without the soggy grossness. So far I’m digging it. Not a heavy beer like some stouts can be. It’s an approachable beer for people who like craft beer, but think they don’t like dark beer. 3.6/5
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In honor of MikeS, I wanted to make sure the one I featured today, was something he could find in his neck of the woods. After all, most of his comments on my articles contain some variant of the words “I,” “can’t,” “find,” and “that.” In that order. Let’s just say I was feeling a bit ironic while completely ignoring the definition of ironic.
So Pabst went and made a Pale Ale? I must confess, I went into it assuming it was going to smell like urine. I don’t know about anyone else around here, but I for one am familiar with the scent of urine, and this my friends does not smell like urine. This is a bit overhopped in the style preferred by the hipsters this product is aimed at. Now whatever hops they picked for this doesn’t seem to suit the style of beer, but that’s okay. This isn’t going to win any blue ribbons, unless the participant ribbons nowadays are blue.
The question is….Can MikeS find this at his local merchant of mind altering beverages? Pabst American Pale Ale: 2/5.
Let’s talk about gunbelts and holsters for outdoor work. No concealed-carry stuff here – let’s discuss rigs for carrying a heavy, powerful belt gun for serious outdoor business.
But before we do that, let’s talk about guns and loads.
Western drop holster with N-Frame Smith
Woods-Bumming Guns
While I favor my Glock 36 for everyday concealed carry, for outdoor work I like a big-bore wheelgun. When woods-bumming, I usually have either my S&W 25-5 or my Ruger Vaquero, both in .45 Colt. If I take it in my head to carry a semi-auto, it’s either the 1911 or the Glock 21, both (obviously) .45 ACPs. In the revolvers I like 8 grains of Unique behind a Lasercast 250-grain hard-cast flat point. That load will blow through a railroad tie and knock a big handful of splinters out the far side and will easily lengthwise a big mulie or a cow elk.
For the .45 ACP I like the 200 grain Lasercast semi-wadcutter. Like most Glocks, my 21 will feed almost anything; the 1911 is a little fussier but will feed SWCs fine with a good magazine. I use Kimber magazines, and the 1911 will feed empty cases with those.
Now, your mileage may vary; almost all my woods-bumming these days is done in the Rockies in Colorado and Wyoming, where there are several species of big, thick-skinned, toothy critters in residence, so I recommend a major-caliber handgun for hereabouts. But if you’re outdoors in areas where the most likely targets for your sidearm are coyote-sized, anything from a .32 Long to a .38 Special will work as well, along with being a little easier to shoot. The Ruger Single-Six is available in .32 H&R Mag, a fine revolver in a good round for medium-sized varmints and, with a mild load topped with a hard-cast lead pill, nice for whatever edible small game presents itself.
Advantage of a drop belt rig: Fast into action.
But, let’s move on to what I really wanted to talk about, and that’s how to tote your belt iron.
Gun Belt Rigs
The gun belt and holster should be comfortable and solid. Choice of material is up to the shooter; some like nylon web belts and holsters, and there is certainly nothing wrong with such a rig; I’ve used many myself. But it’s hard to beat good leather. Heavy harness leather should be used in the belt, and good stout bull hide in the holster. A heavy leather rig will start out very stiff, but wear and the application of a softening oil, like neat’s-foot oil, will soon make the rig softer and more wearable.
A simple cartridge belt with the Vaquero in a Mexican loop holster.
(Disclosure: I am in no way connected to nor do I have any financial interest in the companies mentioned, I just like their products.)
For my belt guns, I like (in fact, it’s my favorite rig) the America’s Gun Store #110 Wyoming Drop belt with the #114 Cheyenne holster, which rig hangs the butt of the gun at about wrist height when your arms are hanging naturally. I find this near perfect for being able to get the gun into action quickly; if you use the leg tie down to hold the holster in place, you can wipe off the holster’s hammer loop with the shooting hand’s thumb just as your fingers wrap around the grip.
Train yourself to keep your finger off the trigger while drawing; cock the single-action or start the double-action pull after you have cleared leather and are already pushing the muzzle of the piece towards the target. I try to get in some reflex shooting practice every year, but draw and dry-fire won’t always work; most folks tend to shoot high when shooting instinctively. Practice!
The Wyoming Drop Belt also comes in a two-gun version if dual six-guns are your thing, and a cross draw holster is available for the one-gun version as well. Personally, I don’t much see the point in carrying two revolvers; if you’re that concerned about running into some kind of trouble, best to pack along a rifle.
Lots of folks like the Threepersons holster as well, and the same statements apply. For that matter, there is nothing wrong with a simple leather cartridge belt like the Hunter Company Straight Cartridge Belt outfitted with the classic Mexican loop holster, like the one I tend to tote my Vaquero around in.
Trouser Belt Holsters
Full-size 1911 in Bianchi leatherA flap holster is good for keeping the elements off your belt iron.
There are options for folks who aren’t into dedicated gunbelts as well. When talking belt holsters, I’m tempted to just mention Bianchi and let it go at that, but there are plenty of good holsters our there, ranging from Uncle Mike’s vinyl to high-end leather, prices from $25 or so to, well, as high as you care to go.
Find a holster that holds the piece canted at the right angle for your natural grip and your gun hand and carry it in a position that’s comfortable for your build; I tend to favor a right-hand hip carry. I’ve used a cross draw belt holster a time or two but don’t much care for them, as I find it awkward to reach across with my shooting hand. Your mileage may vary; as noted above, continue your draw-dry fire practice until you find the holster position that allows you to bring your piece into action quickly with a minimum of extraneous movement.
Bad Weather
If your stomping grounds tend to be wet and snowy/rainy, like the Pacific Northwest or Alaska, Great America’s also makes their very nice K #17 flap holster, which keeps weather off the gun but makes it take longer to bring the piece to bear. Bianchi makes a mil-spec flap holster for various automatics if more modern hardware is your thing.
Whichever rig you choose, keep it clean and softened (saddle soap and water for leather rigs, good cleaning with clear water and a little clear soap for synthetics) and it will give many, many years of solid service. A well-made firearm can last for a couple of generations if it’s well cared for; there’s no reason the carry rig shouldn’t last as long.
Food history shows generally fall into two categories: those that focus on cooking with a side of history, and those that focus on history as told through food. I’d like to recommend three series that focus on history with a side of food.
First, is The Supersizers (hat tip to Lafe Long), available on YouTube. It seems to be two series, The Supersizers Go and The Supersizers Eat. The hosts are Giles Coren and Sue Perkins. The show is focused on food culture throughout British history. There are a few partial cooking demonstrations (watch a chef sew a bird’s head onto pig’s body), and they do discuss changes throughout time. For example, shifts in food due to the introduction of spices like nutmeg or the increased availability of sugar.
The hosts eat the diet of a particular era, such as Roman or Edwardian, for a week. Like Morgan Spurlock’s Supersize Me, the two get checked out by a doctor before and after embarking on their new diet. (What should they expect from drinking all that booze during the Elizabethan era?) They dress in period costumes – Sue Perkins continues to wear her nerdy, black, hipster glasses even when wearing a toga – and sit down to eat a table set in period style. They eat off trenchers (a piece of bread) in a number of episodes because plates weren’t in use yet. The series is silly and fun and full of bite sized pieces of culinary history.
Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner with Clarissa Dickson Wright is more substantial fare. This three part series is also available on YouTube. Each episode focuses on a different meal and she explores how trade and technology have influenced and changed what and how we ate each meal. As in The Supersizers, the show has little in the way of cooking demonstrations, but we do see what a meal would look like and she gives a more erudite discussion of the culture surrounding food. It defintely kept my interest.
Food: A Cultural Culinary History is a banquet of information. It is available through the Great Courses channel on Amazon Prime (you can get a trial membership to binge this series). I had never watched a Great Courses series before and I’m not sure what I expected. Perhaps a Ken Burns style documentary with pictures and voice-over, or maybe something more like the History Channel with its badly acted re-enactments. Nope.
It is just a chubby guy in a suit, standing there talking. And I was riveted. This a survey of the history of the world told through food and culture. It covers the impact of trade and technology on what and how we eat from pre-history to modern times. Ken Ablala is master lecturer. He does throw in the rare, amateur food demonstration; charoset, penitent’s salad, and sushi. If you watch no other series, watch this one.
So, what did I learn? Well, two things I’d like to share. First, no matter what time period you consider, or what diet people followed, someone will passionately insist it’s wrong. And, not only is that diet physically unhealthy, it is morally unhealthy and anyone who eats that way is a bad person. (Shakes finger.) This, of course, creates an opportunity for the governing institutions of church and state to intervene. For example, during the middle ages, the Catholic Church designated nearly half the year as ‘fast days’ which meant eating fish. Even after England’s break with the church, the government (particularly the Elizabethan government) continued to require fast days – mostly to support the English naval fleet. By fishing, they retained their seaman skills and supported themselves, without the crown having to pay for a navy – thrifty. So, when someone tells you that people used to eat a lot more fish, just remember that it wasn’t necessarily by choice. The weird categorization of things as fish (beaver tails) demonstrates that people were not necessarily excited about eating fish, fish, and more fish.
Second, I have long considered cooking to be a basic life skill. I confess to being a bit condescending to those who complain about having to cook. To me, its not that hard, and how else are you going to feed yourself? Do you expect someone else to cook for you? Well, actually, for much of history, yes. Most people didn’t cook. Cooking for one’s self or one’s own family is a relatively modern practice. And, as an economist, once the reasoning for why this was dawned on me as I was watching these shows, I felt pretty stupid.
Abigail Adams by Gilbert Stuart Cooking utensils (especially metal utensils) and a hearth designed for cooking (or later a stove) were expensive. The Roman populace couldn’t afford to have their own ovens. They took their grain to the baker, who would mill the grain and bake the bread for them. During medieval times, if you worked for the king, or even a local lord, you didn’t cook. You ate in the hall and someone else cooked for you. Peasants working in the field would bring their grain and vegetables to the field with them and it would be cooked in a communal pot.
In colonial America, Abigail Adams and her husband were wealthy people. She didn’t have her own bread oven. It was too expensive, and not just because of the capital investment, but because of the cost of fuel. Instead, she took her dough to the baker and rented time in his oven.
During industrialization, dormitories with eating halls were common for workers. Well into the 1950s, unmarried working people who moved to the city for work lived in boarding houses that provided meals. Even today, we largely expect college students to live in a dormitory and eat in a cafeteria. Mostly due to the cost of renting and furnishing an apartment.
Education should always change us and my foray into culinary history has made me even more willing to ignore the ever changing diet advice. It has also tempered my attitude toward those who don’t cook. In the big picture of history, not cooking isn’t that odd.
Do not let my colleagues fool you with their nay-saying about James Swain’s The King Tides (Lancaster & Daniels Book 1). It is an entirely adequate beach read with a chipper pacing and zombie-like kiddie predators. To my mind, the main drawback to this book is the sponsored content, or the weird brand name dropping plus generic non-affiliated copy material–depending on if the author was paid for this or just lazy and trying to meet a word-count. It was jarring to be reading about the author’s disappointment that a kiddie diddler had smashed his phone only to be rescued by Verizon!
“His phone was new, courtesy of his ex-girlfriend tossing the old one out of a moving car. Replacing it had been a snap. A quick trip to the Verizon store and forty-five minutes later he’d walked out with a new Droid, his contacts and apps restored. Kenny’s phone was also a Droid, and he wondered if Kenny had bought it from Verizon, which had more locations than a hamburger chain. If he had, then all his data was stored in the cloud and could be easily restored.”
Spoilers: he also upgrades his phone from a Droid to a Moto Z2 Force during this exchange for only $40! I’m not sure that I’d recommend this book on its merits, but there are now enough people who have frog-marched themselves through it that it’s part of the current Glibertarian cultural canon. Don’t be left out!
JW
Have you ever read all the information that comes with penicillin prescriptions when the pharmacist fills them? Vomiting. Check! Mild skin rash. I wonder what “mild” means? Upset stomach. Check! Diarrhea. Uh-oh! I’ll be right ba….
Brett L
As part of an experiment in group self-abuse, I read James Swain’s The King Tides (Lancaster & Daniels Book 1). This book is terrible. Random shit not at all relevant to the plot, rogue FBI agents distributing kiddie porn (actually the most realistic part of the story), super-fit former Navy SEALs with beer guts congenital conditions that somehow didn’t disqualify them from that competitive system, kidnapping attempts of hot teen-aged white girls that the police don’t care about. I regretted reading this, even though it was free. Don’t buy it. Please do not encourage Mr. Swain to write any more books.
In my literature entry for the month, I read Without a Country, a Turkish work translated into English. It’s an interesting family history starting with German Jews fleeing Hitler to populate Ataturk’s new university system, where hope and religious tolerance flourish, and tracks the changes in Turkish culture from the Muslim secular hope of Ataturk to the more fundamental Muslim sympathies. It was a good book. I enjoyed the writing.
I also readCurious Tales from Chemistry: The Last Alchemist in Paris and Other Episodes by Lars Öhrström. As a chemistry geek, these are fun little tales about substances, some basic chemistry like orbitals, and history. Places, people, and things interesting to their history (like the guy tasked to steal British steel-making secrets for the Swedes).
Old Man With Candy
In Jewish tradition, the Torah is divided up into sedras, roughly analogous to chapters. Each Sabbath, a sedra is read, sequentially, until at the end of a year cycle, the last sedra is finished. We have a nice holiday to celebrate it, Simchas Torah, then the process is begun again. For years, I had a similar ritual, reading a chapter at a time out of The Feynman Lectures on Physics each week until I was done the three volume set, then I’d begin again. This kept my basic physics sharp and it was, for a geek, remarkably enjoyable. The Lectures were a series of notes from a one year freshman physics sequence taught by Richard Feynman (arguably the greatest physicist of the 20th century), and transcribed and edited by two other physicists, Robert Leighton and Matthew Sands. The collaborators did a wonderful job capturing Feynman’s voice and unique style, and this set of books might be among the greatest works in the English language. Anyway, for reasons of life, I stopped doing my ritual some years back, and recently, it occurred to me that my brain suffered from the absence of Feynman’s ghost. So I started again. And it’s every bit as delightful and wonderful as I imagined, the exact opposite of dry technical books. Even if you’re not mathematically inclined, there’s so much clear and common-sense explication of how the universe works that you’ll come out of the experience much smarter than when you went in.
I linked Volume 1 of the set because that’s the one that is likely to have the most appeal to non-physicists. It covers a sweeping range of topics; though focused on classical mechanics, Feynman talks about probability, thermodynamics, cosmology, biology, psychology, wine, and as a bonus, he offers his rather tart observations about philosophy. More so than anyone else writing about science, he is rigidly clear about what things are “this is the way it is, we can describe it, but we can’t say why it is this way” and what things are “here’s something about which we know why.”
Strange as it may seem, we understand the distribution of matter in the interior of the sun far better than we understand the interior of the earth. What goes on inside a star is better understood than one might guess from the difficulty of having to look at a little dot of light through a telescope, because we can calculate what the atoms in the stars should do in most circumstances.
One of the most impressive discoveries was the origin of the energy of the stars, that makes them continue to burn. One of the men who discovered this was out with his girlfriend the night after he realized that nuclear reactions must be going on in the stars in order to make them shine. She said “Look at how pretty the stars shine!” He said “Yes, and right now I am the only man in the world who knows why they shine.” She merely laughed at him. She was not impressed with being out with the only man who, at that moment, knew why stars shine. Well, it is sad to be alone, but that is the way it is in this world.
I also selected The King Tides (Lancaster & Daniels Book 1) for my free Kindle book this month since there was nothing else even remotely interesting. (How much do the authors pony up for this? I can think of no other reason for the choices.) However, being smarter than my dear Glib friends, I waited until they had all reported in, then quietly deleted it from my Kindle unopened.
In enjoyable reading, I am swiping through How to Speak Midwestern by Edward McClelland. Things I’ve learned so far include: where Little Egypt is; what a frunchroom might be; where a gangway is located and for what it might be used; who Trixie is and what she’s up to with Chad.
SugarFree
I read the Joe Pitt series by Charlie Huston. Hard-boiled vampire private detective in a Manhatten ruled by vampire clans as bitchy and mean and petty as any 8th-grade clique of half-pretty girls. They are competently written. but mostly crib from various other, better detective novels for plot: the spoiled heiress with the monstrous father from The Big Sleep, the cynical operator playing all sides against each other of Red Harvest, Mike Hammer’s blase cruelty of those he has decided are guilty. The best book is the third, Half the Blood in Brooklyn, with Joe fighting off a thoroughly crazed sect of Hassidic vampires and their odd workaround for obtaining “kosher” blood. Overall, the series isn’t bad, it just also isn’t very good.
I read/watched Ira Levin’s The Boys From Brazil. Gregory Peck as Dr. Mengele is one of the more inspired casting decisions in movie history, constantly walking the line between terrifying and absurd. The biggest knock on the movie from a production standpoint is the blue contact lens they had to put on young Adolf–they are distracting in our 1080p world.
I also read/watched that old stand-by, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. Chock full of juicy Catholic guilt and atheist hate, the movie satisfies like no other. The Zodiac Killer said of the film “I saw and think ‘The Exorcist’ was the best saterical [sic] comidy [sic] that I have ever seen.”
I made it through two chapters of The King Tides. It was terrible.
Web Dominatrix
I picked up a couple books this past week.
Originals by Adam Grant and Talk like TED by Carmine Gallo. Originals is about how non-conformists influence and change the world, while Talk Like TED is about public speaking a la TED Talks.
I have no interest in public speaking (or really doing anything that requires me showing up somewhere on someone else’s schedule), but I am into livestreaming and video marketing.
So far Originals is really interesting. Adam Grant is a great writer and he pulls in some compelling studies and references. I haven’t cracked open Talk Like TED yet.
ZARDOZ
ZARDOZ SPEAKS TO YOU, HIS CHOSEN READING ONES. BOOKS CAUSE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE! OH AND IXNAY ONYAY ETHAY IZARDWAY OFYAY OZYAY!
ZARDOZ HAS SPOKEN.
Swiss Servator
Upon recommendation (and loan) of a regular at my local, I read “The Last Days of Night” Edison vs Westinghouse (as in Thomas Alva vs George) and Nikola Tesla wanders into the picture. The story is from the point of view of Westinghouse’s young lawyer in the fight against Edison over the patent of the light bulb. Mostly based on actual events, it is a fairly interesting look into inventing, what drives/drove the inventor/inventors of the time. A little electricity learnin’ and some fancy laweryin’ too. Reads quickly, and has some very, very short little chapters…almost like the author was not sure where he was going at first. Probably would make a decent movie if cast right. Give it whirl if you have some time.
STEVE SMITH
STEVE SMITH BUSY WITH CASCADIA INDEPENDENCE. HIM NOT HAVE MUCH TIME READ. JUST TREATIES AND FOREST LAW (HIM PROMINENT FOREST LAWYER!). READ MONTHLY QA REPORTS ON HIKER ENCOUNTERS TOO. BY ENCOUNTERS, MEAN RAPE.
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.
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“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.
The story starts here – pages 5-7 in particular. And yes, you need to read that article to appreciate the rest below.
I was asked to provide comments, this was my response:
The scenario reads like a rejected plot treatise from the TV show 24.
Is this now proposed to be a doctrinal infantry battalion operation? Or is the “battalion sized raid” really an over-grown Special Ops activity? The scenario posits that stealthiness and surprise are essential – which argues that some 800 soldiers in uniform aren’t the right force, no matter how they infil/exfil. The scenario then assumes that this large of a physical operation is critically dependent on cyber (in a country with a dysfunctional government but a “sprawling mega-city”); and that a greater threat to the operation is presented by social media than either Attican military or Sogali police force or the armed criminal gang with a bio-toxin. There are two distinct air assaults (initial and follow-on), and these proceed undetected and undisturbed by Attican civil and military personnel (presumably deterred but not killed by “ground protection robots”).
As a proof of the concept, let alone of the operational capability (test or field exercise), in what CONUS location will cyber teams deploy and clandestinely establish access to cellular (e.g. Verizon), landline/internet (e.g. AT&T and TimeWarner) as described? This will all be accomplished while evading detection and counter-measures of course.
Does the author of the scenario actually have a notion of what a “quantum gravity sensor” is – or is that just a collection of cool sounding words? Is a microbot really the size (and appearance) of a rodent, or is it smaller – say the size of a cockroach?
The rehearsal of the raid is conducted while the raid is already underway, i.e. the force is in country potentially drawing hostile attention? And it is all virtual (simulation)? While rehearsal of [small] special operation missions is a key component of McRaven’s case studies in SpecOps, they are not done as part of the mission itself. They are done well in advance to drill and debug the mission plan. One can imagine a game designer philosophy in the virtual rehearsal – nope, we need to reset, again.
Direct neural interface? Is the author of this scenario going to be involved (as a subject) in the testing of those?
XT “combatants” are neutralized non-lethally, but the armed UAVs are eliminating threats on rooftops via more conventional means? And that draws no attention/reaction from any Sogali or Attican officials?
The crowds gathering in the streets receive the PSA ‘burst’ transmitted to them, which they ignore and develop into a threat to the mission. Now what? Social media detects anxiety and hostility (I suspect the soldiers on the ground are sensing that too), but no ameliorative action is suggested let alone taken.
Friendly casualties (hey, there’s a touch of reality after all) are treated while wounded hostiles and neutrals are left to fend for themselves. No repercussions there. All withdraw, including captured hostiles (and the biotoxin – presumably all to be destroyed at our convenience) without so much as a scolding from any actor of the government who’s sovereignty we just stomped all over.
Heck, if we’ve got direct neural interfaces – why don’t we just slip a few operatives into the XT compound and de-neuralize the bad guys (to borrow from another Hollywood plot)? That way they won’t even remember that they could produce a lethal substance.
The scenario is so broken as to make any contemplation of possible technology capabilities within the forecast timeframe too immature and fantastical to warrant the amount of time spent in producing and reviewing this document.
Now, remind yourself – this is a document on a U.S. Army website that all of the officials in charge of public affairs deemed suitable.
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.
Read a book, read a book, read a motherfuckin’ book.
Old Man With Candy
I always have a geek book at hand, and this past month, my constant companion has been Electrochemical Methods: Fundamentals and Applications mostly because I have suddenly been given a new role at work which requires some of this expertise, and there’s not much opportunity to fake it. I was immediately and uncomfortably made aware of how much physical chemistry I have forgotten in the mmmmph years since I was in college. Well, at least I remembered the Nernst equation.
A discussion with SugarFree got me to pick up my copy of The Eyre Affair, the first of the Thursday Next series. I bought this the last time I was in England visiting my favorite author- he and I went book shopping and he urged me to give Jasper Fforde a try. He was right. Delightful mix of surrealism, science fiction, alternate history, and literary geekiness, sort of a Douglas Adams with better writing.
SugarFree
I’ve been on a horror kick. I re-read The Tommyknockers for the first time since it first came out. It remains one of the more interesting failures of Stephen King’s long career. The basic premise is sound and portions of the book are fantastic but–like much King’s work–it needed an editor, a very heavy-handed editor. It could lose a hundred or so pages and be a masterpiece for it. The TV miniseries is a rather dreary affair, hampered by poor casting and bad special effects.
I read a dozen or so King short stories afterward as a palate cleanser–most of Night Shift and parts of Skeleton Crew–and watched all the TV and movie adaptations where they have been made. The only thing I really have to say is that Linda Hamilton might be wearing the least erotic pair of shorts ever produced for the female body in 1984’s The Children of the Corn.
I read Nick Cutter’s first two books,The Troop and The Deep. The Troop is an effective and nasty little piece of splattercore, so efficient and complete that I cannot understand how it isn’t a movie yet (it even acknowledges a structural debt to Carrie that a movie adaptation could ignore.) The Deep is more ambitious, but I found it a little too derivative to be truly enjoyable, mashing up Solaris, Event Horizon, Sphere, The Abyss and any number of demonic possession stories to surface to an ambiguous ending.
Finally, I read The Soldier, the first book in a new trilogy by Neal Asher, set once again in his sprawling Polity Universe. It is his usual sort of meth-freak out science fiction overdrive that you either adore or hate. The new trilogy is picking up my favorite narrative thread of his work and my least favorite narrative thread and tying them together into an interstitial tale that doesn’t quite break his continuity but does manage to whack it in the knee with a length of pipe a few times. I’m along for the ride, though, Neal.
Riven
I have really been slacking. The only books I’ve read this month were the childhood books I incidentally read while unpacking the last three boxes my parents were very graciously still storing for me in their garage. I kid you not when I say that my sister and I read this edition of Mother Goose to pieces. It was already well-loved by the time I “inherited” it from my sister, who is only five years my senior. If you are looking for a good book for a very young child, look no further. The illustrations are beautiful and are more than enough to capture the imagination of a child who can’t read yet. And it’s a great book for a kid to grow in to because the rhymes are simple and easy to read.
Yesterday, I read the Very Hungry Caterpillar to my son. Its a classic coming of age tale of a caterpillar coming to terms with a body shaming public that refuses to accept his outward appearance. They simply do not understand the caterpillar and drives him to seek refuge in food as a coping mechanism. The joke however is on society, as the caterpillar shelters himself away from the world, and shows them all what he becomes.
SP
Lots of mindless reading this month while on the road to and from Montana, most of which doesn’t deserve mentioning, so I won’t.
Sorta enjoyed the latest Agent Pendergast book, City of Endless Night, but it seemed much weaker than previous works in the series. As usual, I knew the identity of the villain as soon as xe was introduced.
I’ve started Robert Dugoni’s David Sloane series. I’m only a bit into book 1, The Jury Master, so haven’t quite formed an opinion yet. I am not generally a huge fan of lawyer novels (or lawyers, with a couple notable exceptions), but this seems less wrapped up in the legal story lines than most in the genre.
In audio, I’m currently listening to The Final Cut by Catherine Coulter and J.T. Ellison. It has two narrators, Renee Raudman and MacLeod Andrews, neither of whom I’ve heard before. I like it so far, but I’m not that far into it since I only allow myself to listen to books when on solo roadtrips or as a reward while cleaning (of which I’ve not been doing much!).
Brett L
I toted along the first book in the Kvothe Series (I think its officially called the Kingkiller Chronicles, but since the author has spent seven years NOT RELEASING THE BOOK WHERE A KING GETS KILLED, I’m just going with the the name of the main character) to the beach to re-read. And then I read the 2nd volume and then I read the final oh wait, no. Rothfuss and GRRM are still having that contest about who gives less of a fuck about finishing his series. I read the Racing Weight book on the advice of Deadhead in the Glibfit series. I started the plan but then bombed out. Will attempt a restart on Sunday.
Finally, I have been listening to Jordon Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos on and off. I won’t say it changed my life, although I appreciate his perspective on some things. It’s like listening to the reverse version of a preacher who uses science and psychology. Or maybe it like taking an ethics class from a Jesuit? I don’t know how else to describe Dr. Peterson’s somewhat unique insistence on the Bible as a central allegory to our current civilization, while fully acknowledging an embracing FW Nietzsche’s critique of religion. What comes through clearly on the audiobook of Dr. Peterson reading his own book is that he believes what he wrote. I am glad to have listened to it, even if I’m not going to choose to clean my room, today.
jesse.in.mb
Recently had some flights and managed to put away quite a bit this month. The Dark Monk (A Hangman’s Daughter Tale Book 2) by Oliver Pötzsch: I enjoyed this one (I wrote about the first book in March) although there’s some minor element of the passing that I find off-putting, but not so off-putting I won’t read the next book. Finding Camlann: A Novel by Sean Pidgeon: frumpy archaeologist and a pretty Welsh linguist with turbulent personal relationships with other people investigate rumors of Arthurian legend and find each other. Monsoon Mansion: A Memoir by Cinelle Barnes makes me appreciate my…uh…problematic parents much more. While some part of me wonders if it suffers from some of the issues associated with I, Rigoberta Menchu, the story she tells is riveting.
Web Dominatrix
I haven’t been reading much this month since I’ve been so busy, but I just ordered (yet again) a copy of The Enneagram Made Easy. This book is my go to for all things Enneagram and really helps me understand myself better and those around me.
I’ve had to order it again because I keep giving it away to people when I realise they’ve never read it because it really is that useful and interesting.
Not Adahn
I primarily read RPG manuals for entertainment these days. I like them. They have worldbuilding, a peek at how things work backstage (which is something I like) and they can be read in whatever chunks of time I have without interrupting a narrative flow. This month:
Star Wars: The Role Playing Game, by West End Games. This came out in 1987, so if you want to know how Star Wars geeks thought about how the SW universe worked back in the day (with input from the studios that still had Jedi fresh in their mind), here’s your answer. TL;DR: George Lucas retcons every goddamned thing. Also interesting is looking back and seeing how sacred canon used to be. Unlike today, where every game designer puts his personal self-insert fanfic headcanon into the games they work on (Did you know that all elves in D&D are trans now?) this book treats the movies as inviolable fact. There are only two Jedi masters left, and no, you character can’t meet them. Which really sucks if you want to play a Jedi as the game allows that there might be a few minor Jedi that escaped the purges, but without real training, your character is going to be crippled. But having Obi-Wan or Yoda meet another potential student would completely fuck the storyline so it’s disallowed.
Ars Magica 3rd Edition, by Wizards of the Coast. Is there any company that has done more to destroy the gaming industry than WOTC? They make one massively successful game, buy up everyone else, then it turns out that they’re not very good designers, they just got lucky once. This piece of crap follows in that tradition. I have a copy of the first edition of Ars Magica (by Lion Rampant games) and like everyone else loved the setting, the concepts behind the game, the alien medievalism, and found the mechanics a bit baffling when they weren’t clear but clunky. This book is literally five times the thickness of the first one, but completely fails at being any more clarifying. It guts the medieval mindset for a modern one and slathers on all sorts of 1990’s-era White Wolf emo crap and d10 rolling. In fact, this is so much a WW game, I had to double check to make sure it was WOTC. Unless WOTC bought WW which could very well have happened. And it became an even less-playable game. In fact, with the mutli-character concept, most of the playing is done solo filling out spreadsheets (which would be an excellent use of downtime between gaming sessions) except that it requires everyone in the group to be there watching you fill out your spreadsheet and approving your choices. Who would actually want to play this? Nobody. Which is why they made advancing your character so freakishly impossible — nobody is going to play this twice so those rules don’t matter. If you want to play an actual “I’m a wizard, I can do everything” game, you’ll need to get a copy of Mage: The Ascension.
First is “An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace” by Tamar Adler. This isn’t your typical cookbook. She has modeled it after M.F.K. Fisher’s “How to Cook a Wolf” and it is thus more like a series of essays about how to eat. Each chapter is organized around a method or ingredient and her guiding philosophy shines through. I think her philosophy could be summed up as ‘Start and keep going.’ I just love her writing. It is beautiful and she really captures cooking – not just eating – as a sensual act. Take care with your cooking and plating and you will be satisfied with less because you have satisfied all your senses, not just taste.
First, is 
Do not let my colleagues fool you with their nay-saying about James Swain’s 
I read the 
I read/watched Ira Levin’s 
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.
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
I read a dozen or so King short stories afterward as a palate cleanser–most of Night Shift and parts of Skeleton Crew–and watched all the TV and movie adaptations where they have been made. The only thing I really have to say is that Linda Hamilton might be wearing the least erotic pair of shorts ever produced for the female body in 1984’s The Children of the Corn.
Riven