The Night Writer

My life of being near beer

The Night Writer — 2008-08-26T04:08+00:00

Kevin at Return to Manliness had a great contribution to last week's Manival about the simple pleasures of Cheap Yard Beer; that is, cheap beer you pound down in the back yard while putting up a garage or maybe grilling some brontosaurus ribs. While I'm not much of a beer-drinker these days, and when I do imbibe I favor the heavier ales, his list brought back a lot of warm memories of cold cans of beer, especially the brands my father liked.

When I was a little nipper (pre-elementary school) my dad was in the Air Force and it seems to me a lot of those base-housing backyards featured the familiar shield of Falstaff beer. These were the formative years when I learned what a "church key" was. While Falstaff was a relatively well-distributed beer, a lot of "yard beers" are regional brews favored by loyal locals and offered at bargain prices. When my dad got out of the service and we settled in Indianapolis, he was partial to Weidemann's. He usually bought this in dark brown, barrel-shaped bottles with a short neck, but for awhile he bought it in miniature keg small enough to lay on its side in a refrigerator with a thumb-tap in one end. Here's where I learned how to pour a fine glass of beer down the side of a glass, ending with just a half-inch of so of foamy head (don't worry, Mom, these were all for Dad. Mostly.)

When we later moved to Missouri one of my dad's friends was the local Stag beer distributor, and dark gold cans of Stag were the standard in the little beer refrigerator behind my father's basement bar. I was in high school then, so of course my friends and I derided the old men who drank that, though we'd take it if we could get it. I mean, it's not as if we had the luxury of being more discriminating; beggars can't be connoisseurs, you know. In fact, one of my (underage) cousins got busted one time for having a case of Olympia ("Oly's") in his car and had to pay a "real beer" fine for something that barely qualified as beer. I think he would have been less embarrassed if he had been caught shop-lifting a case of tampons (which were said to be great for cleaning the heads of your 8-track tape player).

When we graduated from high school a lot of my class chartered a bus to take us, immediately after the graduation ceremony, on our "Senior Trip" to Daytona Beach. Missouri was a "21" state so we told the bus driver to wake us up as soon as we got to an "18" state. That turned out to be somewhere in Georgia when the bus stopped to refuel. We had to fuel some foolishness, so a couple of my buddies and I collected beer money from our classmates and headed into the convenience store to stock up. There, in a big cooler case for our taking, were various nectars of the gods (no Stag). We were about to buy several six-packs of something or other when Darrell pointed out that that beer was in 12-ounce cans and cost about $3, while immediately next to it were 16 oz. cans of Old Milwaukee for $1.79 a six-pack. Well, we were high school graduates so we could do the math; we could get a lot more beer for our money by loading up on the Old Milwaukee.

It was swill, of course, which we soon discovered even with our unsophisticated palates. The thing was, we couldn't just be throwing away beer, or beer money, so our strategy changed so that when we'd pull into our hotel for the night we would go buy a couple of cases of better beer and ice that down in the bathtub of one of the rooms, along with the Old Milwaukee. We'd drink the better stuff until it was gone (and we were nearly gone) and then start in on the Old Milwaukee. Still, there would always be a lot of cans of OM left in the morning and someone had to be delegated to load it on the bus so it could be transported to the next place. I think it was somewhere on the homeward leg when the last can of Old Milwaukee was either consumed or thrown out the window of the bus. We could have cheered, but we probably just belched. The other memorable part of the trip (given the amount of brain cells that died it's a wonder we remembered anything) was that we started the trip with 4 eight-track tapes to be played on the bus sound system. Within the first three hours, three of the tapes broke. The sole survivor was the "Frampton Comes Alive" double-album, which then was played non-stop. Every. Single. Hour. Of. Every. Single. Day. (Do you...feeeeel like I do?) At one point I begged my friends to buy a new tape of anything — Johnny Cash, Montovani — anything! All funds were being reserved for beer and as we still had a few days left in the trip, there would be no money allocated for non-essentials. To this day, Old Milwaukee and Peter Frampton will both make me gag, though fortunately both are pretty rare these days.

One of my favorite beer memories, however, is of when I was in college when a couple of friends and I decided to drive up to St. Louis to see this new movie that was stirring up a lot of talk; something called "Star Wars." On the way we stopped at a store and bought a 12-pack of Stroh's and a foot-long length of summer sausage. We drank the beer and bit chunks out of the sausage as we drove along (don't try this at home, kids) and it was a great combination. Whenever I see a Stroh's sign today I always remember that trip. The movie was pretty good, too.

Between Kevin's post that I referred to at the beginning of this story and my own experiences, a lot of classic, regional brews have been recalled. As I was writing this I started to wonder what happened to some of these; for example, Pabst Blue Ribbon. I did a web search and discovered that PBR is still going strong. In fact, it has become the home and distributor of a lot of these old brands. Visiting the Pabst Brewing website I found many of these "vintage" beers huddled together. Beers like Schaefer, Blatz, Colt 45, Old Style, Schmidt, Stag, Schlitz, Lone Star, Falstaff, Pearl, Rainier and Stroh's — even Old Milwaukee and Olympia — have found a home there, and preferably it's a cool, dark and dry one!

Update:

Mr. Dilettante has a more, um, sober, take on a similar topic. (And yeah, Mark, I caught the Wang Chung reference...which may also be appropriate.)

Now it can be told

The Night Writer — 2008-08-08T03:08+00:00

Some have noted that I have yet to endorse a candidate for President. This is not due to an oversight on my part, or because I've been too busy. Actually, I have been busy behind the scenes. Very busy. While I wanted to keep things on the QT a little longer, events are no longer completely in my control and circumstances have forced my hand.

Go here to see who I think will be our next President. And remember, it's spelled with an "H".

Nobody expects...the Dad inquisition

The Night Writer — 2008-07-19T18:07+00:00

My chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...my two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency. My three weapons are fear, surprise and ruthless efficiency....and coming out of the sun with a squirt bottle full of cold water. Make that my four weapons...oh, never mind. The point is Ben and the Diva weren't expecting it, but they should have been!

You're so Favre, I bet you think this post is about you

The Night Writer — 2008-07-17T19:07+00:00

At first I didn't post on the Brett Favre saga becuase I didn't want to be late the party. Now it appears that this is going to drag on for months yet, and by writing now I can still squeeze a few paragraphs into the first 10% of all the words that will end up being written.

Frankly, the story is barely newsworthy in terms of being shocking; you'd have to be FEMA not to have seen this one coming. Aside from the annual off-season "maybe I'll retire, maybe I won't" strokefest, this latest move is vintage Favre for anyone who's followed #4's on-the-field exploits.

"Triple-coverage? What triple-coverage? I'm Brett Favre - I can put the ball in a Junebug's back pocket!" Whooosh. "Dang!" Similarly, while "miscalculation" might be hard for Brett to say, it isn't a foreign concept to him. "Retirement papers? I didn't file no retirement papers! I'm Brett Favre - they've got to take me back!"

The moves made by both the Packers and Favre have been just as predictable.

Farve: "I maybe, possibly, might want to come back, but you didn't hear it from me."

Packers GM Ted Thompson: "Naah, naah, naah, not listening! I'm on vacation! I'm rearranging my sock drawer! Brett who?"

Favre: "It's all just rumors taken out of context, I don't know how Chris Mortenson could have intercepted my text messages."

Thompson: "Of course we'd welcome Brett back, as long as he'll wear a helmet really made from cheese and confess that he was the one that killed Dan Devine's dog. There might be a problem, though, because we're all sold out of #4 jerseys and I told the staff not to order any more. He might have to wear #78, which also happens to be the number of times we've been down this road with Brett in the past."

Favre: "Help! Help! I'm being repressed! Come see the nonsense inherent in the system! Want to see me cry again?"

The posturing by both sides is just as transparent. The Packers will act as if they'd gladly take Favre back as their back-up quarterback, knowing there's no way in hell Brett will accept that, while Favre will say he'll come back knowing that there's no way in hell Thompson wants the nightmare of Favre in uniform on the bench while a young quarterback takes his lumps. The team could conceivably punish him by trading him to a non-contender, but that is nearly as empty a threat as bringing him back as a bench-warmer. What non-contending team would trade for Favre and his salary, especially knowing that Brett won't want to be there. Even potentially contending teams will be hesitant to give up much, especially if it means Favre having to learn a new offense. You should also keep in mind how much Favre has whined about having enough talent on the team in recent years; even if the Packers can find a trade partner (which they have the technical capability to do), Favre will pout his way out of that situation as well, probably forcing another trade that will make the Packers' moves blow up in their face. In the Packers' favor is that trades take time and that's something that Favre and most teams don't have if he's going to go somewhere new and be ready by the start of the season.

Ultimately the Packers and Favre know he has the leverage and can force his release just by continuing to be the pain-in-the-butt prima donna he already is. Thompson also knows that the Vikings would be a prime landing space for Favre given that the team is merely an established quarterback away from being a serious Super Bowl contender, and that Favre would relish the opportunity to play the Pack twice in the coming year. There's not much Thompson can do to prevent it, except muddy the waters by proactively accusing the Vikings of tampering, especially since Vikings offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell was Favre's former quarterback coach. I don't know what hard evidence Thompson could have to support his claim unless he's got the power to subpeona phone records. Perhaps it was this transcript from a tape that was mysteriously found in the pocket of Bill Belichek's hoodie:

DB: Hey, Brett, it's your ol' buddy, Darrell.

BF: Who?

DB: Darrell Bevell, your old quarterbacks coach.

BF: I had a quarterbacks coach? Who knew? I think I knew a guy named Darrell who caddied for me for awhile.

DB: Ha-ha, always the kidder. I'm just calling you up like good buddies do, to talk about huntin' and fishin' and such.

BF: Do tell.

DB: Of course! I wouldn't dream of having you tampered with, unless of course it was by Jared Allen; man, can that boy hunt! You know, we should get together. I think you'd like our West Coast off-, I mean, you ought to check out the west coast of Lake Minnetonka. Good fishing out there. Super, in fact.

BF: Hey, thanks, Darnell...

DB: It's Darrell.

BF: Oh, yeah, Darrell. The thing is, I don't know if I'm going to have any time. Michael Strahan has also retired, and him and me got a contract offer from FOX to go around the country re-enactin' the time I fell down so Michael could set the single-season sack record.

DB: I remember you like bowling. We've got a good group of, um, bowlers over here. You know Kevin and Pat, and we got that kid we call, "All Day." Next time we get together I'd be happy to give you a ring. Uh, hello?

BF: Sorry, Merrill, I accidentally dropped my phone. I had this itch I was trying to scratch.

Tune into ESPN tomorrow (and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that) for the latest developments.

Proof

The Night Writer — 2008-07-16T01:07+00:00

We now have more evidence of what Tiger Lilly has been saying all along: cows are terrorists! Here's a photo of a would-be bovine suicide bomber about to go on a mission:

Actually, going on an emission might be more accurate. The photo is from a story about a group of Argentinian scientists that are trying to measure the amount of methane emissions from cows and the impact that may have on global warming:

In a bid to understand the impact of the wind produced by cows on global warming, scientists collected gas from their stomachs in plastic tanks attached to their backs.

The Argentine researchers discovered methane from cows accounts for more than 30 per cent of the country's total greenhouse emissions.

As one of the world's biggest beef producers, Argentina has more than 55 million cows grazing in its famed Pampas grasslands.

Guillermo Berra, a researcher at the National Institute of Agricultural Technology, said every cow produces between 8000 to 1,000 litres of emissions every day.

Methane, which is also released from landfills, coal mines and leaking gas pipes, is 23 times more effective at trapping heat in the atmosphere than carbon dioxide.

Scientists are now carrying out trials of new diets designed to improve cows's digestion and hopefully reduce global warming. Silvia Valtorta, of the National Council of Scientific and Technical Investigations, said that by feeding cows clover and alfalfa instead of grain "you can reduce methane emissions by 25 percent".

So the cows are out to get us, using biological weapons no less. This plan has a fatal flaw, however.

When the weather gets warm, I like to grill.

HT: The Llama Butchers

"The Great Hair-coloring Massacree"

The Night Writer — 2008-07-12T18:07+00:00

Sometimes you'll do something that, even as you are doing it, you just know isn't a good idea. But you do it anyway.

Case in point: I came in the house unexpectedly today and my wife was in the downstairs bathroom, and there was this strong smell coming from in there. Now, right away, you're saying, "Uh, don't go there," but what you need to know is that she was wearing rubber gloves at the time. You also need to know that there are only two things she does in the bathroom that involve rubber gloves.

One is cleaning the bathroom, which usually involves strong and odorifous chemicals but this wasn't bathroom cleaning day.

The second thing is to, um, refresh her hair color.

I walked closer and said, "Mmmm, smells colorful." She looked a little disappointed that perhaps a tiny bit of The Mystery had departed. She did suggest, however, that if I could only learn to apply this elixir of youth it would be a big help in refreshing the tresses on the back of her head.

I recalled the long and expensive training and certification process the Mall Diva went through in order to be licensed to do that very thing, and said, "I don't think that's legal."

"Oh, it's no big deal," she said, "you can have Faith (the Diva) show you how."

"Sure," I said, "it's no big deal for you, but what about for me?" as I remembered an old story by Arlo Guthrie. "I mean, I really don't want to be sitting in jail and having some big guy say, 'What are you in for?' and me having to say ...

'Hairdressing.'"

Okay, that didn't get me into too much trouble. Blogging about it on the other hand....

Cownter-terrorism

The Night Writer — 2008-04-18T03:04+00:00

The picture below may look a little unusual, but it's really Tiger Lilly's latest weapon in her ongoing war against the terrorist cows "Cow-spiracy": Tactical Bovine Observation and Neutralization Equipment (T-BONE).

This specially designed vehicle lets Tiger Lilly infiltrate unobserved, eavesdrop on secret plans, unleash a devastating surprise attack and then make a speedy getaway quicker than the cattle can say "Mooove-on.org."

The factory rep brought this over for her to inspect. Channeling Christian Bale in "Batman Begins", and thinking of the ninja cows, Tiger Lilly's response was: "Does it come in black?"

Tom Lehrer Day

The Night Writer — 2008-04-09T11:04+00:00

Today is Tom Lehrer's 80th birthday, and yes, he's still alive. I posted a video from him several days ago, but thought I'd celebrate the occasion with another of his classics that has eerily remained relevant more than 40 years after it was written (the text inserted briefly in the middle of the video was not from Lehrer).

Edgy, cynical and more than a little liberal, Lehrer still had a gift for sticking his needle right in your funny bone. Despite his television exposure in the 1960s, he ultimately chose a lower profile in academia. In an interview he once said he would have gone crazy touring and doing the same songs every night. Besides, he said, "Political satire became obsolete when Henry Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize."

Happy birthday to one of the greats!

Buddy, you're nutty

The Night Writer — 2008-04-08T02:04+00:00

The NuttyBuddy — a next-generation upgrade on the athletic cup — is getting somewhat infamous in certain, um, parts of the blogosphere. My friend KingDavid, unpaid and unofficial spokesperson for NuttyBuddy, gave me one of the company's promotional tee-shirts for my birthday last week. While I'll proudly wear the tee-shirt, I don't know that I'd go to the lengths the guy in the video below goes to to demonstrate the efficacy of this new technology.

It's hard to tell what is more disturbing, this clown's (let's call him a "Crush Test Dummy") willingly and repeatedly standing in front of the Nuke LaLoosh of pitching machines, or the constant cackling of the off-screen woman who was feeding the (supposed) baseballs into the machine. Somehow she reminded me of the sound Hillary must have made while coming up with her health care proposals.

One positive thing about this video, however, is that at the end — after taking repeated shots to the gut and thigh and a couple direct hits on the NuttyBuddy — the guy says, "I don't think I'll ever be able to have kids."

On behalf of the gene pool and future generations, I thank him in the name of all humanity.

Wassup? True, true.

The Night Writer — 2008-02-10T20:02+00:00

Here are a couple of Super Bowl commercials that I missed last week but came across on YouTube. I'm not a big fan of Bud Light, but we do have birds, and these really make me laugh.