Every Tea Party seems to have one…
Current Affairs
08 February 2010
28 December 2009
29 October 2009
19 July 2009
And That’s The Way It Is…
For anyone born in the 1980s, the news of Walter Cronkite’s passing probably carries little weight. But for the Baby Boomers and for many of the Gen Xers (or those of us lucky few who fall on the cusp between the two) virtually every significant event of the 60s and 70s, everything that I can recall from my childhood – the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK, the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon, the Viet Nam war, Woodstock, the ‘Summer of Love,’ the shootings at Kent State, the Watergate scandal, the disgrace of Richard Nixon – was all given voice by this great man.
It is no small thing to say that Walter Cronkite was the narrator of a generation…
10 July 2009
21 May 2009
03 May 2009
It Can't Really Be *IT* Without the S and H
One of the disadvantages of working in the liquor business is having people ask us over and over again for a product we don't have, and then having to listen to them go on and on about it as though somehow the very act of endlessly expounding its miraculous virtues will, by magick, call it in to being from the very aether; or just eventually make you break down and tell them that, yes, sorry, we were merely having you on; we've actually had it all along and were just deliberately hiding it from you so we could hear you drone on about it like a whiny little bitch so we'd have something to laugh about later.
And one such product is Fat Tire from the New Belgium brewery.
For weeks now we've been badgered about this beer, explaining to enquiring minds that, no, we haven't quite got it yet but, just as soon as the distribution schedule is worked out, we will have it in stock. And, yes, I'm absolutely sure it's not just in the cooler and that I forgot; and, no, I'm not going to toddle off for a look - because I'm not going to look for something that doesn't exist. But of course feel free to second-guess me, though, and pore over the cooler doors yourself until it occurs to you that I might, indeed, just happen to know what I'm talking about.
So when one of our beer deliveries arrived on Friday and we did, in fact, finally receive our long-awaited shipment of New Belgium products (they have three) I dutifully arranged them on a shelf upon which I had previously made space, put up a 'starburst' sign with the appropriate sales information and repeated this action, as per the distribution guidelines, in the cooler, at eye- or chest-level, arranged with like microbrews, 'on the handle' (meaning you open the door and they are right at your quivering fingertips without any straining or reaching.
Within two hours the news had spread like wildfire: people were running in, breathlessly, nearly weeping, to buy Fat Tire by the arm load.
I was reminded of the wave of absurd fascination with Corona - the cool beer, the must-have beer, the beer to be seen with, the it beer of the 80s - when every person who wanted to be the coolest person ever drank it, holding it in exactly the right position so that all eyes could clearly read the label without having to crane their necks:
'It says "Cerveza" on it, man. That's so totally cool. And see, you put a lime in it. That makes me, like, the most important and coolest person ever. I am, like, totally awesome. Does your pussy little beer have a lime in it? Uhm, not.'
'Yeah whatever, Mr Trump. 'Cerveza' means 'beer.' And has done since our ancestors spoke the Indo-European language over seventeen thousand years ago. You're drinking a fucking beer.'
But I digress...
By the end of the night I had very nearly had all I could stand of listening to people rave about Fat Tire as if it were the most spectacular invention since the wheel; having them doing happy-dances and squealing with the same sort of freakish adrenaline-fuelled delight usually exhibited by wild-eyed holiday shoppers after they have savagely beaten an opponent to the ground in effort to get the last Tickle Me Elmo.
So I bought one.
The Fat Tire, not the Tickle Me Elmo.
I felt compelled to determine if all the cloying collateral hype was warranted. And you know what? It absolutely isn't. Though I do not typically offer product assessments, allow me to burst a couple of bubbles: First, this is made in Colorado - not Belgium (as almost everyone appears to stupidly believe); second, because the FDA would not knowingly allow addictive chemical additives to be introduced into the brewing process - at least not without them being printed on the label - and short of being made of Soylent Green, which would also require the proper labelling, the only thing this beer could possibly have going for it is a new, revolutionary, earth-shattering taste unlike any other beer - or cerveza - before or since. Problem is, it tastes like Stroh's. And not real Stroh's - not the original old school Stroh's - but the Red Dog-like pale impression of Stroh's being passed off today as a premium beer.
Once Fat Tire is warmed to about 60 degrees, there are hints of fruit in the nose and some sweet caramel malts lying under some fairly astringent hops, but that's about it. The finish is short and dry and the body is thin. And it tastes like Stroh's. All in all, less than intriguing. And certainly not worth the $3.99 price tag for a 22-ounce bottle. Frankly, if you want a Belgian-style ale with some real meat to it, grab a Maudite Red Ale from Unibroue, because it seems to me that's what Fat Tire was aspiring to be.
Of course it's the cool beer, the must-have beer, the beer to be seen with, the it beer of the moment. But like Killians, Zima, or Corona, it will eventually have burnt itself out and the fickle attention of the public will soon turn to the newest useless craze. But kudos to the folks at New Belgium for tenaciously grasping what the French have known for years: That you can bottle tap water, give it a pretentious name (Evian, which, as you well know, is 'naive' spelt in reverse ) and Americans will kill each other to get it, because we will buy anything if we think it means we will look like the coolest people ever.
(Oh, and a note to Corona drinkers... I have nothing against Corona. It's a nice little mostly harmless Mexican beer. But will it lift a burning car off a trapped child? Will you be able to soar through the sky to a sweeping John Williams score? Will throngs of vapid followers fall slavishly at your feet to adore you as you press the lime-rimmed bottle-top to your pursed and anxious lips? No. It's a beer. Figure it out.)
14 April 2009
24 February 2009
12 February 2009
Errata
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