the new old hell-yeah

Dear Ann Arbor/Ypsi Beer Enthsiasts:

If you haven't been to Arbor Brewing Co. in the past month or so, you REALLY need to stop there and have a pint. I don't know what it is they did, but 3 months ago I was wondering whether the beers were just going to continue a downward spiral into boringness. But then KA-THWOCKO! Just the other day I was there, and boy howdy... they sure did do something about the beers. Put some new stuff on the menu too (hooray for the IPA Chicken with goat cheese sammich)

Three new ones I hadn't had before, but fully endorse: Downtown Brown (not a diva beer, but very drinkable pint after pint). HXL - a nameplay on the Huxell, but XL because it's a high-gravity double-strength version of the Huxell Best Bitter. Too heavy to have lots of, but tasty fer sure. And saving the best for last: the Duggie Style Rye. Fuckin' hell, y'all. Even it's smells have temporal complexity. The smell has a start and finish, and they work together so well. Taste? Well, that's even a better part you'll have to discover yourself.

And not only the new stuff, but it seems they've freshened up the Porter too. I used to think Grizzly Peak had a better porter and ABC had a better stout. I think ABC has re-taken the Porter crown on this one. Smoky and with a little bit of a snap on the tongue. Niiice.

I know the brewmaster is unlikely to be reading this, but on the off chance he is: An absofuckinglutely STELLAR job with these brews. Keep 'em coming. Glad to see new stuff. Glad to have ABC again be a destination for me and not just "when I'm in the neighborhood".

Grizzly Peak brewmaster? You'd best sharpen up your game if you don't want to get dropped.

LRB Personals

There's actually a book of the best personals placed in the London Review of Books (current ads can be read here)

Enjoyable excerpts from this week:

My psychotherapist suggested I place this ad. Woman, 43. Not mental, despite whatever a fear of open spaces, the colour red, the sound of rain, plastic containers, beards, percussionists, birdsong and cornflakes may suggest Box no. 01/03

Anybody seen in a bus over the age of 30 has been a failure in life." M, 43, failure, seeks F anywhere on the Arriva 333 route between Oare and Maidstone, for evenings cut short and diesel-choked embraces (the last bus leaves the Chequers Centre at 1817 and it's a long walk). Box no. 24/10

When eventually calming down after a heated argument involving smashed plates, thrown cutlery, insults directed at your circus side-show of a family, and emotionally destructive sex, you should know now that I’m very unlikely to participate in that ‘no, really, I’m sorry, it was my fault’ charade. You accept all of the blame all of the time or you grow gills to breathe in the stale, bitter soup of my angry and eternal silence. Cuddly F, 36, brown hair, green eyes, degree in geology Box no. 01/05

what to look forward to in asymmetrical warfare

Golly, what do you think is in store for us over the next 3-5 years in Iraq... let's look at some examples from history in which a global power tried to fight in an asymmetrical war against an opposing force that was distributed (not concentrated in one place), in their native environment, and filled with the enthusiasm of their own righteousness:

- Afghanistan. The USSR tried for 20 years to occupy/convert/take over Afghanistan. They moved in, but were constantly harried and the costly effort eventually failed. They pulled their soldiers out without succeeding in doing anything other than ruining the property values in Kabul.

- Vietnam. Didn't go well. Ended only when the invading forces gave up after thousands died and billions wasted. Never really did unseat the opposition. 30 years later, trade relations are "normalized", if that really means anything.

- Northern Ireland. Been flaring up, though it had been quiet just previously. 205 years of conflict with an imperial power doesn't just dry up.

... oh yeah, and there was this little clump of colonies across the Atlantic that declared their independence from England a few hundred years ago. They were fairly successful at defending themselves against an imperial army based thousands of miles away.

So what makes anyone think that this asymmetrical war is suddenly going to be radically different? Well, the price tag will be higher - more zeros after the dollar sign than ever before... that'll be different, I guess.

disturbing-funny, disturbing cute, and disturbing *disturbing*

Back from holiday visit to the fam in ChicagoLand, and though I have a bountiful list of comments to expound on ad nauseum from thoughts during walks, drives, sleeplessness... they require more focused thought than I can give them right now. In the meantime, we have:

Disturbing-funny

where can I get some of this? are there other savory flavors? how about lobster bisque?

Disturbing-cute:

It's not a causal thing, is it? That running with scissors makes children slow... or that you drive slowly because the children in this neighborhood have a tendency to run with scissors and could be doing it at any time?

And then, disturbing-disturbing: Michigan House Bill 5882 which, among other things... makes the sweeping statement about where life begins "'Unborn child' means a live human being in utero regardless of its gestational stage of development." (Section 2E)

Of course, it would also make it a crime for the "supposed" father (though paternity may not be known) of a child of a pregnant female younger than 18 to change cohabitation with her (Sections 3D and 4D). Meaning... a 18 boy lives with a 17 year old girlfriend. She finds out she's pregnant and it could his, but also could be someone else's... if he moves out, he could be imprisoned for up to a year, based on interpretations of "intent to compel". Intent to compel doesn't even seem to require an action... "Intent"?

Does this ever happen to you? (the generation gap)

My parents had me pretty late in life... while most breeding couples start really feeling the biological clock tick at about the age of 30, my folks were closer to 40 when they had me.

So basically, as a youngster, I've served as the Ambassador of Technology in some form or another to my parents. (there is still a rotary phone installed on the wall of the kitchen - at this point not a sign of lack of progress, now it's cool vintagey) In 1999, after years of Dad asking about "what the internet is like" and what it would take to "get on it" with the 486/Windows 3.1 he had, I finally just decided that the gift of a modern computer and a dialup account would set them on the path. Today, the same 7-year old Win98 box is chugging along on the dial-up. It's fair to say that access to technology/media hasn't made them any more adventurous/inquisitive about developments in said technology/media. In 2003, it was the humble cell phone. Bought them a pay-as-you-go phone since they might not want to have to deal with a contract... Only in the past year have they gotten comfortable with the notion that they don't need to call FROM a cell phone to reach some one else's cell phone.

I'm not saying all this just to rag on my parents for avoiding the cutting edge... I'm saying this all as background for this brief, yet far overdue observation:

Whenever I go to visit over the holidays and I sit down at the computer to check mail, browse about, etc. etc., eventually either Mom or Dad will wander over and stand over my shoulder, watching what I'm doing, not as surveillance, but "just to learn something new". And I don't know how to say it in a way that will be convincing on this, the 522nd time - there's nothing to learn by watching someone browse the web on a dial-up connection. Waiting for pages to load is not a learning experience. There's nothing to see. And ultimately, if I do do something on the local machine at my normal speed, they eventually shuffle away shaking their heads muttering something about never being able to follow what I'm doing, it's just too complicated. So then the frustrated teenager in me huffs and puffs "well why do you keep staring over my shoulder then?"

Ah, children and their parents. No matter what age, you'll always be your parent's kid, oppressed by their protective parenting, and always doing something that their parental wisdom considers foolish. So stop picking things up off the ground and putting them in your mouth. I mean it. Right now. I'm going to count to three, and don't make me come over there...

the Patron Saint of Venereal Disease and Hemorrhoids

not kidding... there really is one: Saint Fiacre. Along with a patron saint of locksmiths and bombardiers. (thanks Wikipedia!)

Happy post-solstice, Norteamericanos

In case you didn't notice, yesterday was the winter solstice and from here on out, the days get longer and the sun is out more and more. I, for one, am glad for this. It's about frickin' time. And that rain? In December? It kicks ass. Why? You don't have to shovel rain.

first three thoughts

Woke up this morning at an uncharacteristically early (for me) hour, with three simultaneous thoughts/sleep remnants:
- If Chicago can ban foie gras from being served/sold, and NYC can ban trans fats, and ____ cities can ban smoking in all public places (bars and restaurants included), I want there to be a ban on having to see obese people shovel french fries into their maws in public. If there's going to be a health/cruelty argument for smoke/trans/foie, then let's not stop there...
- If pro-lifers argue that life begins at conception/fertilization, then in-vitro lab technicians that drop test tubes with blastocysts in them should be prosecuted for negligent manslaughter and women who smoke during pregnancy should be charged with child abuse.
- The opening of PJ Harvey's song Oh My Lover which, though PJH "rejects the notion that her songs are autobiographical," is kind of funny seeing that it starts of with an affirmation of polyamory, and the artist's first name is... Polly.

It seems my sleep was one of of personal freedoms offended by the hypocrisy of zealots, with a soundtrack from 1992.

Neither child, nor adult.

Among the things I'm unfamiliar with, the boundaries of childhood and adulthood can be counted among them, but not for the usual reasons. Is it that I am more like one, the other, both, or neither? Today I went on my first guardianship investigation trip (a volunteer program through the Washtenaw County court system to periodically check in on the health and welfare of children/elderly/disabled that are wards of the court). While I know that my conversation skills with children isn't well developed, it seems that I'm also unacquainted with the conversation skills of adult non-academic professionals that are not engineers/businesspeople - in this example it's lawyers, social workers, etc. I kinda felt a little lost and uncomfortable for a bit, and it was weird. Maybe I just approach "serious life issues" with either complete aplomb or heightened tension (this would be my all-or-nothing approach to so many things), and the idea of calm pseudo-non-chalance in the face of health-and-welfare issues, (while maintaining vigilance I might add) is sort of an interesting trick that I don't quite know yet.

It's a lovely segue some of the other childhood/adulthood identification pet peeves of mine. Chip on my shoulder and opportunity to rant? You bet:

Why is it that somehow because I haven't married, bred children, or bought real estate that I'm somehow considered a non-adult? It's nothing overt, it's just that good ole "when you've lived as long/had the same experiences/had to go through what I've had to, you'll understand." holier-than-thou shit that bugs me.

Responsibility as a parent... what, you mean getting your girlfriend knocked up at 22? (a case where a history of safe sex is retroactively held against me) Or do you mean marrying someone out of familial pressure, or chronological pressure, or inability to live a life of your own? (a case where strong sense of self is held against me) Or that your incessant financial pressure is because you're in debt up to your eyeballs because you don't have a clue about the idea of saving for the future or spending less than your income, or other forms of consumer self-restraint? (a case where my sane financial choices is held against me.)

Don't worry, this isn't some sort of persecution complex shining through. This is just me having a moment. Bear with me, it'll pass...

I hate Packard

In the spirit of the holidays, I'm embracing not only my rage, but my hatred. Where I live in Ann Arbor, my most often traveled street is Packard Rd. Going downtown? Packard westward. Going to Ypsi? Packard eastward. Going grocery shopping? Packard. Going to the West Side? Packard. Driving to Detroit? Packard. I have come to hate the familiarity of it. For some, familiarity is comforting. But for me... in this... it has bred the cliched contempt. I've started to go out of my way and intentionally engaged more traffic, or crappier roads, or riding hills, or whatever to avoid it. Who thought one could start to hate a road and the monotonous landscape it represents?

Sung to the tune "I Hate Music" by the Replacements (circa 1981)...

"I hate Packard
Sometimes I don't
I hate Packard
It's got too many notes

I hate my high school
Sometimes I went
I hate Packard, man
Never heaven sent"

Radiolab/morality

Michigan Radio has been re-broadcasting old radio segments from WNYC's program RadioLab on Monday nights. I caught the one on morality (origins and development), and while I think the editing/production of RadioLab is a little too snarky for my tastes, there were some interesting points to be made. Specifically: that fMRI studies have shown that there's an area of the brain that mediates those instinctual vs. analytic thoughts (id vs. superego). That there's a cooperative evolutionary basis to "moral" sharing behavior (it improves the survival of the community and therefore the species). That even children as young as 2 can tell the difference between rules that are rules for rule's sake and those that are because of a deeper underlying meaning. Check out the audio archives here.

late for this year...

Picked up some holiday greeting cards recently that just totally hit the spot on my holiday sentiments, and as it turns out, the company makes all kinds of nifty other stuff: improve your vocabulary of slang, sex, therapy, and corporate america with flashcards. Dial-an-excuse, or choose-a-religion with wheels. Heck, can't beat that, with a stick or otherwise.

FINALLY... *ugh*

After many, many, MANY charitable contributions to the weekly 9-ball tournament, I finally actually got somewhere with it... As in, I won enough matches to win my entry fee back. Nothing special at 8th place, (particularly since 1st place pays out 10x the entry fee) but it's a landmark for me. I've been making $20 donations forever, and never getting into the money has been aggravating, especially for a tournament that is handicapped to equalize stronger players against weaker ones (instead of an open tounament where the winners are champions who are easy to spot even before the first match).

So yeah, I'm not *too* proud of it - I wasn't really playing that spectacularly. I broke a spot ball in, made the cheese 5-6 times, shit the 9 in twice, and was fortunate to have opponents rattle the spot or 9 ball 3-4 times. A lucky tournament, but it's about time - after all those tournaments where I was generally feeling and playing well, either got a string of bad rolls or had my head stuck up my ass and couldn't make a 9-ball when it counted.

hate to say it, but I told you so...

Shiny-happy people are doomed. To live a longer life, try being honest. With yourself and other people too.

"Every time a person is forced to repress his true feelings there are negative consequences for his health," said Professor Dieter Zapf, a researcher into human emotions.

Fake-smile practitioners take note: don't say I didn't try to warn you.

Spelt

What is it about spelt bread these days? I seem to be seeing it overflowing the bread shelves in quality food stores, and so I got some. Pretty crappy bread, if'n ya ask me, which you didn't, but whatever. Weak texture, no crust, non-existent flavor (puhleaze don't tell me "oh, it's *subtle* flavor you have to appreciate"), and not exactly very sturdy, either. The stuff I got falls apart easier than the Great Harvest crap-bread (that I don't like either). Makes crappy grilled cheese, that's for certain, too.

Must be another one of those "wonder plants" like hemp that is supposedly the cure for all our ills from acne to global warming, but really isn't that remarkable of a raw material unless you're making rope or smokin' up. Shee-it... even Zingerman's can get bread right... now if only their bread didn't harden up before I can finish what I bought.

"prompt and highly motivated escape behavior"

What the hell is this? I mean, other than a device for cooking people?

in touch with my inner rageaholic

Tonight, with nothing really going on, I strapped on a bike and went tooling around - with no real destination in mind, I guess I was literally out looking for trouble. Returned a movie and some library CDs, then out to Ypsi, thinking I would do some exploring of places to plop and read a book and drink a beer or a coffee... but then I realized I'd forgotten my book (In the Company of the Courtesan, which I'm really enjoying) at home. Ok, fine - I'll just poke around town then. Went into the new vintage toy store Rocket downtown Ypsi and got a Morton Salt salt shaker for nostalgia, but without my literary entertainment and places I would have like to go into closed, I headed back westward. Hungry as hell, I stopped at Whole Foods and picked up some Muesli bread that I grazed on while browsing the magazine rack at the Barnes and Noble nearby. From there, it's into town, with thoughts of a beer on my mind. And that's when I passed through campus....

North on State St., and from out of a car window, I hear something ending in "... should ride on the sidewalk..." as this car full of yougsters passes me. That shit pisses me off to no end - people in cars thing they are strong, anonymous, and invulnerable. Well, I'm not your grandma - say that to my face, asshole. Peaceful co-existence between cyclists and motorists? I try to most of the time, but not tonight. No, not me.

Hitch my britches, jump on it a little and check back - no traffic. Skippedy-bip, around the pedestrians, up to their bumper, but can't get around... ah, the lights turning 3 blocks up... biding time, and luckily the window is still open... it's a car full of youngsters. 5 of 'em, can't be more than 19. Rolling up, blocking in the door, back of the bike blocking the rear door, my 6'3", 200 lbs of my serious angry face in the window...
Rageaholic Me: "you got something to say to me?"
Pimple Farm: "uhh.. no. nuh-uh"
RM: "you seemed to have something you wanted to say to me a mile back."
PF: "who me? no, I didn't say anything..."
RM: "oh, that was maybe some other red buick with 5 kids in it? try again. you seem to have a lot to say when you're feeling tough driving along, but when I'm right in front of you somehow you've got nothing to say. you got something to say to me, say it." (I somehow managed to avoid the "go ahead and say something, you pussy" cliche)
[a couple breaths of glaring staring here, it's clear that he's brave in the car when he thinks he won't have to account for his behavior and weak in the knees when pushed back against. the light turns green, we go our seperate ways]

I feel a little bad about instigating on what are basically kids out for a ride, but if they promise to think twice next time, I'll promise to try to forget that I have a heavy lock and they have a glass windshield. It didn't have to go this way, it really didn't. But I'll be a cliched rage-filled asshole cyclist some day if this keeps up.

livin' large? .... livin' huuuuge

A Confession: I swear, I don't know shit about wine. It's easy to know I like something when I taste it. Alternately: "I can't tell you what art (or pornography) is, but I know it when I see it." When I'm it comes to picking out a bottle based on information on the outside of it, I'm completely hopeless. But not as much today as I was on Monday.

Yesterday, G came over with some wine and we had a little mini tasting party. 4 wines, 4 cheeses, good conversation, music loud enough that the neighbor knocked at the door (but I swear officer, it wasn't very loud). It is quite a fine experience to have multiple wines side by side to compare back and forth, to figure out what you like and don't like. Bop back and forth across the mini-spectrum, try them with food or not... Yes, I realize this is not a new thing. "Wine People" have tasting parties all the time, I guess. New for me then. What I *did* find out though is that it seems I really like big, young, woody Zinfandels from Cline Cellars. Damn that was some goodness. Looking at their other offerings, I'm definitely going to have to try the Big Break Zinfandel too. Bring on the power. Bring on the 800lb. gorilla of wine, that shoulders its way through and says "oh yeah, wanna make somethin' of it? well, do ya?"

Oh, and cheese? Well, get me some o' that 18 month gouda, or the salty stinky cheese, and I'll be putty in your hands. Goat cheese? Yup, some o' that too - even if it happens to resemble a twinkie in the photo.

Flav/Bettini. fo' sho'.

Flavor Flav interview of 2006 World Champion roadie Paolo Bettini

dude.

I... uh... well, let's just say that I'm frickin' impressed. This guy can ride a bike, fo' shizzle.

how scary...

This video of an interviewer on the street asking "who should America invade next?" - and the inability of interviewees to identify countries on a map (he mislabels Australia as Iran, Korea, etc. and they go ahead pointing to the island continent as Iran/Korean without correcting him) Of course, it could be that these are actors... but the notion that I can believe people can be that clueless is what scares me more. Heck, there's even a game show that focuses on the ignorance of everyday American passers-by for comedic effect.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (winter edition)

I have no idea where this is from, but it gives me ideas for when we start to get some real snow falling...

apparently, my seduction style is....

Go ahead... take the quiz for yourself (go to the page below, and then the "extras" button on that page)

maps-n-stuff

I confess - I dig maps. I dig visualization tools. I really dig cool maps. And GIS? Well that just gives me a full-on-chubby. Representing data spatially is just flat out cool (that's really what a map is anyway, no? the abstract representation of relevant space and information, while hiding irrelevant spaces and information.)

So though I haven't done much work on my map of "additions to stop signs" lately, I'm re-inspired by a art/engineering project called Blue Puddle that just happens to be based here in Ann Arbor. Check out the outdoor electricity map and "making-of" video. Something that Zack makes a good point about: "part of the fun of this is just going out there and seeing your city in a way that you don't usually get to see it." How true.

oh.... fuck. not this again...

I've been feeling a little sickish the past week - nothing terrible, just coughing, chest congestion, a little bit of sinus congestion. It seemed to be clearing up today, even so much that I was thinking about making social plans for the weekend. And then, just 15 minutes ago, I felt an itch. On my wrist.

And now I'm worried.

You see, this has happened a few times before... where in November/December (right around Thanksgiving-ish) it starts with itchy arms - I'd get hives on the inside of my forearms. Every day they would go away for half the day, and every day they would come back. One year they would build up during the day and clear up over night, the other year they would come in the evening and start to clear out when I woke up. Either way, it starts on the arms... then legs... then back, neck, face, etc. That puffy eyelid, wide-looking nose, and red blotches you see ain't because of waking up from a nap...



Two years ago, it kept getting worse, and after 4-5 days, they were appearing on my face and lips. When I looked up articles online it said that if they appear on the lips or tongue, that's a danger sign to warn of airway constriction and anaphylaxis. The next night as it got worse and my throat was bothering me, I drove myself to the emergency room. Ever thought you were ignored in the ER and told to wait? Next time try telling them you have hives on your lips and your throat is bothering you - that gets you rushed inside, 2 IVs, and LOTS of attention to make sure you don't die on them. Oh yeah, and having a camera shoved up your nose and down your throat is no fun either.

------ not-so-minor side-trip here -------
So here's the freakout moment of the day... as I'm writing this, I'm thinking intensely about my bodily status. How do I feel? Itching? More? Less? How's my throat feel? And maybe because I've been trying ignore the discomfort of coughing, I suddenly am aware of how raw my throat feels. Is it tight or just sore from coughing for the past three days? Is it getting tighter? Holy Shit... is this real or am I just freaking out? Suddenly, I'm wondering where my Epi-Pen is. Upstairs to the bathroom, rummaging around in the drawers, getting a little more worried, hyper every second... "I'm not like this, really," I say to myself, "I don't freak out. I'm not the panic-ey type. No, not me." But the idea of dying of anaphylaxis alone in my apartment with no one to discover my body for days would be really pathetic, and if I'm motivated by anything, I'm motivated by the desire to avoid being pathetic. At least I can take some Benadryl... slow acting, but better than nothing while I look for the Epi-Pen. A little worried, hands shaking as I try to pry the little capsules out of the blister pack. (No matter what the packaging is, the more in a hurry you are, the more impenetrable they are, and the frustration and a little sweating now doesn't help.) Sip water, and down with the Benadryl. Fuck, where is the epi injector? I know I had it with me in Utah... oh, is it in my backpacking first aid kit? No. Shit. Travel toiletries? No. Shit. wherewherewhere... backup travel shaving kit? No. But I found the old expired Epi-Pen, so at least that's something. Downstairs to the storage area, rummage through my backpacking gear to find the fresh Epi-Pen, and I suddenly don't mind the fact that my health insurance didn't cover jack shit and it cost me $120 out of pocket.
------ not-so-minor side-trip ends -------

I don't know if the Benadryl is kicking in, or if just knowing that I have the epi injector calmed me down, but I'm feeling much better right now. It did get me thinking though... do I know any of my neighbors and if they know CPR? If I found myself unable to breathe, what would I do? call 911, sure, but they would never get here in time. Suffice it to say that I'll be carrying the Epi-Pen with me for the next few weeks.

Back to the non-threatening, non-ER side of this - after the emergency room trip three years ago, I haven't had any problems. I went for an allergy screening afterwards, and everything was negative (indoor/outdoor/food/whatever). My environment hasn't changed, and besides... I've had these flare-ups even when I lived other places, over the past 10 years. Seems to always be in Nov. though. After the UMich hospital found out that they has screwed up the allergy screening (old allergens/lab mistake, something like that) they invited me back for a free comprehensive re-screening (40 different allergens tested this time), and STILL they didn't find anything that I'm allergic to.

So it's still a mystery. I just hope this damn thing doesn't come back again this year, because going through all the stupid gyrations to eventually find out nothing sure was aggravating. And cost money, too. I should have at least gotten something out of it better than "Well, we don't know what it is, but be sure to keep an eye out for things that might be causing it. Keep your Epi-Pen handy, and good luck." Fucking quacks.

because it needed killin'

As I found myself flipping channels, I finally decided "enough is enough". If I can't control my own behavior on this, I'll just have to work around my own weakness. Take myself out of the loop, as it were.

BEFORE:

... and AFTER:

Shadow Art Fair

Went to Shadow Art Fair today at Corner Brewery in Ypsi... saw some nifty stuff, and bought a little too. It was pretty chock full of people at the fair, but I heard that Friday was ridiculous busy - as in how-many-people-can-fit-in-this-building full.

Stuff I liked...

Miranda Tarrow's "Circus Peanuts" (which now hangs on my wall)

...and there's just something about "A Half-Sucked Egg" (Miranda Tarrow & Howard Forbes) that I really like. Didn't buy the work, but got the postcard...


Chris Sandon, a part of Dirty Bros. had some alluring/disturbing work available, and lastly, I think I'm going to get all my greeting cards from SappyCards from now on.