Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Ah, that poor cashier at the grocery store. The one who made the mistake of asking us if we were able to find everything okay, when the answer was no.
I try to build my theories about what is happening based on what I know to be true, and I try to confine them to what I know to be true. But, of course, that is not a realistic way to go about living life; sometimes we have to use inductive reasoning. And Folsom, for all of its blessings, does have this serpentine infestation writhing just beneath the surface, this way of thinking that says “I’ll bet this offends somebody, and you know what will make me an extra good person is if I get rid of it before I wait for anyone to actually complain about being offended.”
I do not know if that has anything to do with the extraordinary difficulty lately in finding St. Pauli Girl, a bitter-tasting, mid-range bottled ale that is typically stacked in the cooler right between the Becks and Heineken. I know the Becks is still there and the Heineken is still there. They are similar in content but lack the attractive and buxom young beer wench on the labels.
Without STP, an entire beer-and-wine aisle is pretty-young-lady-free. Insecure women can look all up and down such an aisle, and not be reminded of the truth that men appreciate the look of pulchritudinous young females. You know what, I’m going to go down on a limb: I think that’s the motivation. Well, I think sales are down, for some reason. I think it’s a combination. I think sales are down and there’s a pretty girl on the boxes, so the inventory managers are saying what the hell let’s just get rid of it.
Which means I have to say something. Well, I advanced my conspiracy theory to the cashier. I mean, why not. It’s probably right on track. I cannot remember the phrasing I used. I made sure it was extra polite, using good manners like my mother taught me and everything. I did not use the word “piss” as in “piss the feminists off,” and I did not use the word “ass” as in “store managers kissing their asses” and I did not use the phrase “sand in their vaginas” or anything like that. I’m not going to be like that smug prick who browbeat the Chick-Fil-A lady; one must remember the cashier in this situation is just like the cashier in that one, just doing her job. But I did point out, in some way that adhered to all the rules of class that eludes me in the moment, that it wasn’t just this store, there’s something city-wide going on. And it’s annoying me. And I think the pleasing visage of the beer wench has something to do with it.
Now, if there was another beer I liked better that didn’t have a pretty girl on the boxes & labels, I’d buy that other beer. But beer that doesn’t have that Germanic bite to it, grosses me out, frankly. Makes me think I’m drinking urine or something. Chimay Grand Reserve is good once in awhile, but absent a special occasion, the experience is lost on me. If I was a billionaire I still wouldn’t feel right about it. And it’s too sweet, I get tired of it.
There is something else going on in Folsom, and in other places: A perceptible mindset that says, you’re a good person if you remove something that has caused offense, and you’re an even better person if you remove it before anybody steps forward to complain — effectively inventing a class of offended-person that may or may not actually exist. At least, I hope such a person does not exist. I don’t want to live in a world in which beautiful women, and facsimiles of same, must be concealed from view because someone is offended by it all. That would be quite awful. Especially with Oktoberfests going on this time of year. Do we really need a new cultural-protocol that says, the delightful experience of imbibing good beer should be disassociated in the public’s mind, from the spectacle of a pleasant looking female bringing it to you? Who thinks that would be a good move? Whoever that is, I don’t want them making any decisions about anything that have to do with me.
Perhaps this is for the better. I’d probably be in better shape, literally, if I shifted more toward wine, and limited my purchases of the ale to something more occasional, and at WinCo which still stocks my preference and manages to undercut everybody else. Slimmer waist, thicker wallet, those are good things. But I’m not happy about this at all. I don’t like complaining about things, and I detest the idea of having to complain in order to counterbalance somebody else who’s complaining about the opposite…especially if that somebody-else might be a phantom, living rent-free in the beverage-inventory manager’s mind.
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Congratulations! This is the FIRST conspiracy theory I’ve heard that involves beer… and you came up with with it. Well done! 🙂
I’m actually quite envious of yer options when it comes to beer, in that you have access to places like BevMo, Costco, and such. MY wallet would be a bit thinner but my horizons would be broadened considerably if I had yer options.
- bpenni | 09/24/2012 @ 09:16Yeah, you’ll see on your auto-tweets from the Hello Kitty of Blogging that I filed this under “First world problems dept.” And it is a whine; the fact that it makes it onto my radar is a tipoff that we are blessed. We do appreciate it.
- mkfreeberg | 09/24/2012 @ 09:21Contact local beer distributor, could be nothing more than a one time inventory supply logistical problem, lack of sales…or drink/support an American brewery.
- tim | 09/24/2012 @ 09:52Do I get “We Are The World…” cred if I publicly announce I’m mar-cotting that place sporting the twin tailed Siren with her-tits-hanging-out logo, if I never go there in the first place?
- CaptDMO | 09/24/2012 @ 16:24…or drink/support an American brewery.
I’m a day behind here… but what Small-Tee said. You’re fortunate to live in an area that’s just chock FULL o’ craft breweries. I might suggest you pick up a six pack o’ Anchor Steam to begin with, even though I prefer their Liberty Ale. With all due respect… and acknowledging that taste is ALL in our mouths… but St. Pauli Girl is but a small step removed from that BuMillCoors krep. Broaden yer horizons, Morgan… you’ll be glad you did.
- bpenni | 09/25/2012 @ 14:15Oh, I’m fully ready to try something new. The experience I have to date, however, suggests that my taste for the German/Dutch bite-in-the-back-of-the-tongue is one unique to me, not shared by many else. Without it, as I stated earlier, the beer is just gross. I appreciate the unique style of the darker, thicker ales, but this is usually accompanied by a juvenile sweetness that wears thin on me after the second or third glass. I mean, sissy-sized American glass…thirty ounces give or take.
Perhaps it’s a negative-nostalgia thing. My ex-wife was a bartender. When I’d go in to see her before closing time, it was in the days before I discovered the “Heineken family” of flavors and these were things like Bud, Coors, et al. The experience overall was far, far more financially expensive than the fluid itself. And the sense of taste, of course, possesses a powerful force riveting us to such memories, whether we relish them or not.
- mkfreeberg | 09/25/2012 @ 14:34I do have a problem with the label, which I hadn’t discovered until I visited here:
http://www.stpauligirl.com/girl.php
Perhaps you, too, will see the problem. I just don’t know how worked up I can get, given the presentation of the brewery (or its webmaster.)
- TMI | 09/26/2012 @ 14:06.
The experience I have to date, however, suggests that my taste for the German/Dutch bite-in-the-back-of-the-tongue is one unique to me, not shared by many else.
Au contraire, Mon Ami. There are LEGIONS of IPA fans that venerate hops and the bitterness they impart to beer. That particular fetish isn’t mine, however. I can “do” an IPA from time to time, but cannot abide the genre as a staple of my beer diet, given I’m much more of a fan of the malty brews, like yer typical British bitter (which isn’t bitter, actually). My advice still stands, with the caveat that you should perhaps begin by sampling the local IPAs.
Buy American! 🙂
- bpenni | 09/26/2012 @ 15:52