Say Cheese

So the other nite I was playing television hopscotch and landed on CNBC or MSNBC, or MSNBCHDTV, some alphabet station. Regardless, they were talking about this new drug epidemic in Texas called "cheese". This caught my attention because while living in L.A. we referred to heroin as cheese. The reason being my friend Dale. He suffered from Archie Bunker syndrome. He would often mispronounce a word, misuse a word, or just substitute one for something unrelated, but you still knew what he meant. Anyway, we would call this guy Chavez to score some tar. To Dale this name wound up being cheese. So heroin became cheese and cocaine chicken because we would park at a Pioneer chicken across the street from the coke dealer.

The alphabet channels story was about a mixture of crushed up Tylenol mixed with tar heroin. Apparently kids have been dropping like flies. The tar is smuggled in by illegals who were then paid and transported to various cities. The next story went on about the expenses incurred at hospitals due to the abuse by illegal immigrants. $190,000,000 in one year at border town hospitals alone. One lady interviewed said they had no choice in the matter. Yes they did, and they made it before they left their country.

Are you acquainted with the Son of Sam law? A criminal can not profit from his crime. So why is it that a pregnant lady can sneak into this country, have her baby here, and that child is a citizen? Thats a foot in the door benefiting someone who has committed a federal offense!

There will be more on this subject to come. And before any of you freakin whiners start crying out "racist" (Dale always said raciest, frikin funny) sure. And when I mention the roop scoops and red necks and white boys with dread locks just remember that I despise the majority of the majority of races. You may go to a Chinese buffet but you dont eat some of everything do you? No, because you don't like all of it.

AMERICAN MUSIC

Well alright, Bob needs a new band. Not that the the players he's with are lacking. Not in the least, but could you imagine this. No, grab a beer and sit down. This needs to be done just as much as the Dylan/Dead tour and the Bob&Van shows. Bob and The Blasters! For those of you unacquainted with The Blasters introduce yourselves. You Bob fans who've seen the man up front playing guitar getting all twitchy and pigeon toed will be able to close your eyes and see it.
This photo is from back in the late 80's, but man, listen to them. They encompass every genre of music, American music, Dylan music. Put on your redlines, t-shirt ,and leather jacket, get your girl in in a poodle skirt and go out dancin'. Might as well bring a six pack of cheap beer too. In cans...tin.

Feelin' Lazy

Picked up the Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barley wine today. 25th anniversary batch. This one will cellar good. Nice malt start, heavy hop finish. Any who, here's my new t-shirt idea. I like it. Hope you do too.

You can enlarge the pics by clicking on them

Epilogue "MONA LISA MUST'VE HAD THE HIGHWAY BLUES YOU CAN TELL BY THE WAY SHE SMILED"

The two words to some up that weekend are Helter Skelter. But amidst all that chaos was control, remembrance and realization. Control? Yes, despite my lack of cognizant self control my sub conscious self control kicked into over drive. My budget for the three days was $200.00. Now I'll admit that I was spending without discretion (is there politics in my future?) yet when I returned home and checked my accounts on line I discovered that I spent $203.oo.

As for the remembrance aspect, tho there is little from that weekend, I did remember why I left there, and it didn't take too long either. Although Flagstaff is a pretty place, like most of America, it is slowly turning into a third world country . I will get into that more on a day that I really feel like pissing people off. Hard to believe thats not every day isn't it?

As for the realization. This most likely will be the last time I see The Great Instigator, Gus Gustave Gustaverson, The Falbolous One, and The Wallrus all in the same city. That is of course, unless we plan on meeting in Belgium in five years. Or go to the Father Land for Oktoberfest.

For now tho I am stuck here in Roop Scooptopia. For better or worse I do know this much, I will never spend $200.00 on beer in this town.

And on the third day Pauly turned Barley Wine to water

Ah Sunday! The day to relax and get ready to hit the road the next day. Aw man, I cant leave without my debit card. Where the..what, come on. So Scott and I head downtown. First stop Mia's. Amazingly we had to go no further. I got my card and we started walking out. Something didn't feel right, so we sat and had a beer, then another, and another.... It was one of those days when I was on a roll, and poor Connie the bartender had to hear it all. Oh well, thats what tips cover too.
She's a big Bruce fan and hopes to move to NJ and work at the Stone Pony. Good luck.

So far that weekend I hadn't seen or heard from Stevie the Walrus. Calls were made and the next thing I know there he is tossing back at Mia's. Well how do you end a weekend of Barley Wine without hitting up Flag Brew for one or two more Crustys. Of course who do we run into there...Gus. Surly Mike, Mikey, Rita, Tex. Knowing my fear of most condiments I believe he was preparing for his move to Texas
and telling me to get out of town by sundown. Look over your shoulder Mikey.

One last stop. Back to the Wine Loft. Have you ever seen a walrus walking down stairs? Kind of looks like the phantom of the opera. The artist formerly known as Hey you.

And that is almost where it ends. This Sept. my parents will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, and man am I glad they stayed together. When Scott and I got back to the house the scene wasn't good. I felt like the child who blames himself for his parents divorce. There were differing opinions as to how the day should have been spent, and in our defense Scott and I started out with good intentions. Sunday WAS to be a day of rest. Well being imperfect people we tend to stray. It was a bad way to end a good weekend. My idea was to just leave right then. Where to I have no clue. Well things come and things go. The only reason people get upset with those close to them is just that, because they're close to them, they care. Its all water under the bridge now. Just hope the levy doesn't break.

Day 2 " WHO LET ALL OF THIS RIFF RAFF INTO THE ROOM"

Another warm and sunny day. Good for hitting the hardware store and the post office. Nothing planned for the day. All was well until my phone rang. It was Gus Gustave Gustaverson. The previous night when I got back to Scotts I told him I ran into Gus, yet he called and said we had to get together and have a beer before I left town. Okay, Flag Brew, half an hour. (It turns out I saw him at Flag when they wouldn't serve me.) Well Scott and I were feeling a little puny so he ordered a burger and a coke. I got ice water and wings to go. Then in walked Gus. I couldn't leave Flagstaff without having a Morphine Drip. Here we go again.

So Gus and I have a few Crustys and make plans to meet at Mias an hour later. Scott, Jill and I hit Mias and walk in to find Gus all gussied up Buffalo style. Scott and Jill split to celebrate her bday and Gus and I continue with our own festivities. It was closing in on the time for the BucketHead show so we were on our way. Ten steps down the sidewalk we see Falbo. "Hey man, you guys want a barley wine?" What kind of stupid question was that. We go to his car and he hands us a bomber of Stones Old Guardian, and down the road we went.

BucketHead was sold out so I spent a quiet evening by myself. My first stop was Flag Brew. If there are any owners/managers of FBC reading this I must say it was a sad sad night. I walked in to a bar full of riff raff and degenerates and of all things hip hop playing on the stereo. Even my Bagna Calda was poorly done, and thats a simple item. It seems as tho all the cool people that used to work there have moved on. There are a couple exceptions tho. The afternoon visit was tended to by the lovely Molly who had bluegrass playing, and a couple of the other girls were still serving. But man...

Form there it was the wine loft again followed by meeting up with Jill and Scott either at Uptown Billiards or Mias. Either way we wound up at both places. Then home to bed. Two nites down, one to go.

See, I can be mellow.

Day 1

2:00 in the afternoon and I find myself down at Flag Brew with The Great Instigator, Old Crustaceans in hand. We sat and had two. Being responsible drinkers we thought it best to leave. And we did. Straight to Mias. The beers were going down quite smoothly and I decided to call The Falbolous One. He had just gotten in town and joined us shortly. After four or five there we decided to head to Falbos car where he had a stash of Barley Wines. We killed off a bomber of Chicken Killer from Santa Fe Brewing company (very good) and proceeded to the Wine Loft in hopes of raising Freaky Freddies blood pressure and frightening a local realator. Neither were there but we stayed and had a few Belgians and some chocolates. Then back to Flag Brew for an attempt at more Crusty. After that it was back to Mias which is when the chaos ensued.

Not only did I get lost, but so did my phone. Both were later found, my phone sooner than myself. Some how I made it down to the circle k behind my old apt where I attempted to call a cab. Not easy to do when you're out of money. I fought with the pay phone for a while then walked in an asked the workers if they could call a cab for me. They did. I went out and waited. No cab. Went back in, "could you call again? thanks". Went back outside. I got too cold ( because I lost my jacket too) and I went in to wait. This time they weren't too friendly. "Wait outside." "Its cold."" We'll call the cops." "mumble mumble mumble." Shortly there after up pulls the man, or actually the men. (San Francisco Peaks as seen out of the
window of the wine loft)

"Whats going on?"
"I'm just trying to get to my friends house."
"Where does he live."
I drew a blank. I had said his address so many times that my mind didn't want to process it anymore. None the less the blue man group and I parted ways and I made it to the home of the Great Instigator. Theres a few stories in there that are funny, yet , well, time, space, and protecting the innocent...

3820 S. Am West Tr
Just practicing

WHAT JUST HAPPENED?

The weather was mild, the times were wild, and "no sense makes sense" made more sense with the more nonsense.
Cast of Characters: Gus Gustave Gustaverson aka Rita, aka Mikey
Scott "The Great Instigator"
Simpson
Jeff "The Falbolous One"
Falbo
Stevie "The Walrus" Lawall
Thanks for putting up with me.

Goin' upstairs to pack my leavin' trunk

Getting ready to head down to Flag today. Looking forward to a weekend of music, mayhem, and morphine drips. For the uninitiated a morphine drip is Rogue Old Crustacean barley wine topped off with a float of Jagermiester. When I first came up with the idea every one thought it sounded disgusting. Not only were their minds changed, they were altered. So if you like barley wines and can get your hands on some Crusty (I've tried it with other barley wines but it just doesn't work) try it, you'll like it.

In the words of BB King "Hey everybody lets have some fun, you only live once and when you're dead you're done. So let the good times roll..."

See you under the table!

check out www.liquidsolutions.biz, they just posted some new great beers.

Doc, there's something wrong with my shoulder

That was a good game on Sunday. I must confess that I stopped watching it half way thru because I didn't think NY had a chance. Later on tho I was surprised to find out that the Rangers came back from a three goal deficit to beat the Canadiens 5-3. Spent that evening shoveling snow and screwing up my left shoulder. My drinking shoulder. Usually it wouldn't bother me, I'd just whip out the crazy straw, sit back and relax. But this weekend I'm going to Flag for Barley Wine Fest. I was hoping to reek some havoc but if I don't heal quick I'll be relegated to just reeking.

Believe it or not this isn't the first time I injured a shoulder. Back in '92 I had a slight mishap. For some reason I decided to start the day early, left work at 10:00 picked up a pint of Old Crow and sat across the street at Hawthorne park waiting for my friend Matt to get off of work. 11;30 rolls around and we hit up Round Table pizza for beer and maybe something to eat. A few hours later its time to go, so I hop on my bike and hit the trail. No really, I hit the trail. To this day I don't know what happened I just remember flipping over the handlebars and then opening my eyes and seeing the sky, back on the dirt. So with my right arm hanging a little low I ambled on home.

I was supposed to meet good ole Sophia Butler later that day, which I did. She, Matt , and myself were at Mr. Smiths. In constant pain Sophie kept insisting that I go to the hospital. I didn't want to go because we were planning on watching the Bob Dylan 30th anniversary concert. We went back to her apartment and were watching the show when I was either in enough pain or she got me drunk enough to go see a doctor. Now when I drink I can get either gregarious or boisterous .
I was feeling friendly that night, and whenever Sophie had her back turned I was off to see the nurses, filling them in on all the medicinal benefits of marijuana. Some exrays and a prescription and we're on are way to Fred Meyers. As she was leaving to go into the store to get the meds she turned and looked at me, and just like a mother, shaking her finger said "STAY IN THE CAR".

I was doing alright until Bob came out (the concert was radio simulcast) and did "Its Alright Ma".
I was out in the parking lot dancing around, arms flailing about. Out walks Sophie. Holy cow! what a look. Not a word was spoken, but like a beaten puppy I was back in the car. The next morning I was sitting on the front porch when guess who pulls up. I had a tumbler full of vodka, pain killers, pot, and a cigar all spread out beside me. "Don't you ever learn?" She gave me a book, "True happiness, how to find it" or something of the like. I was expecting a book full of reflective pages displaying my smiling face, but no, all words.

A week later we were lying on my bed and the phone rang. It was one of the nurses. Would I like to speak at a public forum on the legalization of weed. No, she ask if anyone had informed me that I had broken my clavical. Oh, is that what that clicking is? In time I recovered. As for Sophie she may say she has too, but I'm still on my first last name, she's on her third.

Just messin with you Soph.

Sympathy for the Devil

As everyone is well aware, it is tax time. A time that many people dread. Look at it from the flip side. Imagine being the poor schmuck at the IRS who has to review thousands of forms. doesn't seem to bad now does it? So over the past few years I have done my best in hopes of bringing an occasional smile to an accountants face. At the end of the 1040 form where it ask for the occupation I enter something other than the typical doctor, lawyer, indian chief. It started simply with slave. I was promoted the next year to serf, followed by indentured servant the next. For the 2006 tax year I was a rented mule. This year as my occupation I listed song and dance man. Unless you have a good sense of humor you don't want to hear or see either of the two.

So give your regional IRS agent something to smile about. We all enjoy a good chuckle while chained to the system.