Nobrainer’s Think Tank

For Labor Day weekend, Rachel and I flew to BFE Missouri (pronounced mizz-err-uh) to spend time with her family. Let me emphasize that I don’t intend BFE in a derogatory way: I rather enjoyed the country. Hopefully stories, words, and/or pictures about that trip will be posted here eventually.

This weekend, we took to the road to see the Clemson-Citadel game. The game went well. We avoided the heavy Hannah-related rains by effectively driving around it. A trip to MH Frank was made and I invested in my first Southern Tide polo. All that was swell. But it really felt great to enjoy a cheap pitcher of cold beer at Tiger Town Tavern.

Good news, especially for Wha.

Fat Tire beer is now being sold in Tennessee, and as I read on, Tigernet, even East Tennessee.

I guess this officially kills any loose plans I had to drive to west of the Mississippi in what would have been one awesome beer run.

On (last) Sunday, Rachel, the Parents, and I headed south a bit to visit the Mt. Vernon Grist Mill & Distillery. We considered also going to Mt. Vernon, but we figured that the old home of a long-dead founding father was unlikely to be greatly different than the old home of a different long-dead founding father, which we’ve already seen. I think we made a good decision because Mt. Vernon also looked fairly busy. The Grist Mill and Distillery, on the other hand, were almost vacant.

The Distilled Spirits Council of the United States has a pretty good summary. There really isn’t much to get excited about, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth a visit.

When we arrived, there were very few cars in the parking lot and the only person we saw around was a guy dressed in a period costume shading himself under a tree. I feared we were about to be treated to a half-assed tour by people who had long ago given up on life. How wrong I was!

The guy beneath the tree handles the first part of the gristmill tour. Since things were so slow, the tour started as soon as we bought our tickets. Our first guide, like the subsequent guides, was very enthusiastic. It was also pretty nice to have almost a one-on-one tour because you don’t have to worry about other idiots asking stupid questions, and you don’t have to worry about asking questions that will appear stupid to other people.

The grist mill is a fully operational replica, run by a sweet 16 foot water wheel. The mill was built on a design created by Oliver Evans. His design received US Patent #3. His mill “operated continuously through the use of bulk material handling devices including bucket elevators, conveyor belts, and Archimedean screws.” In other words, if you’re an engineering geek, you’ll be amused by the workings of the mill. It’s pretty neat.

The distillery tour follows the grist mill tour. Frankly, the distillery isn’t that exciting. It’s basically a barn that holds a bunch of barrels and kettles. It’s still interesting though.

It’s worth noting that the souvenir shop does not sell any whiskey because they have not (or had not as of last Sunday) received their license from the ABC. However, they expect to get the paperwork finalized soon. Furthermore, the whiskey they will soon sell is not made at the Mt. Vernon distillery. Instead, it will be a special whiskey blended from contributions of the members of the Distilled Spirits Council. Hopefully I can procure a couple bottles soon.

4. My traps have killed 4 mice in my shed in the last 2 days. My only regret is that I let the problem go on for too long. My 5 traps are reset and waiting silently for another night’s catch.

I’m particularly pleased the the old school wood and wire snap traps. The two I own have accounted for all the fatalities. I’m disappointed by the newer, jaw-like traps which are still waiting for their first KIAs. I’m extremely disappointed with the live trap I set which clearly caught and let go one of the varmints.

I’m even considering expanding my efforts. I may purchase some rat traps and start going after the tree rats furry little squirrels. Normally I like the little guys. But today… Today one of the smug bastards stole my first tomato of the season right off the vine. And then, just to piss me off, he merely nibbled on my little green tomato before carelessly discarding it.

My recent run ins with rodents have me rethinking my hatred toward cats. Maybe it’s okay to have some neighborhood cats with owners who “take care of them” by letting them constantly roam through and piss and shit in other people’s yards who can serve as judge, jury, and executioner of the local Varmint-Cong population. Or maybe not. I’ve definitely seen cats in my yard. Unfortunately I have mostly caught them lounging comfortably on my deck furniture. Perhaps they are on strike from rodent-hunting since I chase them away.

Anyway, this all brings me to my brief review of the 3rd installment of my recent reading series. The book? The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden. In short, the author, William Alexander, recounts humorous stories about and pertaining to his garden. The book is well put together, and I liked the author’s sense of reality. Alexander was able to take his gardening seriously without mindlessly preaching about urban sprawl and other crap as some single-minded gardener are wont to do. Right now I’m reminded of his writing about the deer that came after his plants. He very clearly wanted them dead. His wife, however, at first liked the cute little woodland creatures. Eventually, the reality of deer hit her and she apparently recommended that the best deer repellent was a good gun. This attitude shift actually ties in well with the rational irrationality model that was discussed in the first book in my recent reading series; being idealistic and pro-deer was fine… until reality hit and the costs associated with the pro-deer stance became clear.

Overall, The $64 Tomato is the one book of the 4 I read that I most recommend simply because I think it appeals to the widest audience and because, unlike Everything Bad is Good For You, it pretty much is what it says it is.

UPDATE 2008-07-15 07:30AM: Add 2 more to the list, both caught with traditional snap traps. All death-traps have been redeployed.
UPDATE 2008-07-15 07:30PM: Add on one more. The total is now 7.
UPDATE 2008-07-16: Two more this morning. Make it 9.
UPDATE 2008-07-17: Up to 10. Things are slowing down.
UPDATE 2008-07-22: Got two more the last couple mornings. Both with the old-school traps. I’ve now re-deployed both traps and one of the new traps to the recent “hot-spot” of activity.

Old Schlitz is coming back!

The beer that made Milwaukee famous hopes to stage a comeback by returning to a brewing formula discarded over 30 years ago.

Louis Glunz Beer was the first distributor of Schlitz in Chicago, where a few taverns and liquor stores on Monday began carrying a classic version of the modern-day brand. Glunz, a fourth-generation family business, began distributing Schlitz in 1893.

Schlitz had been available only in cans for several years until the brand’s owner, Pabst Brewing Co., began selling it in bottles last year in Minneapolis and Tampa, Fla.

That bottled version of Schlitz, which uses a traditional recipe last used in the early ’70s, was snapped up by older baby boomers who remember the beer from its glory days, before Jos. Schlitz Brewing Co. cheapened the formula. On Monday, 10 Chicago taverns and liquor stores began carrying the bottled version.

If demand expands, sales of classic Schlitz could spread to Milwaukee and other cities, Wortham said.
Changes not popular

Schlitz was advertised for decades as “The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous.” By the 1950s, it was the nation’s largest brewer, with additional breweries outside Wisconsin. But in the ’60s and ’70s, Jos. Schlitz Brewing Co. did some things that affected the beer’s taste.

In 1967, Schlitz patented a process that accelerated fermentation, according to the book “Breweries of Wisconsin” by Jerry Apps. That was followed by apparent changes in ingredients, including a different type of barley and the use of corn instead of barley, Apps wrote.

Drinkers noticed and turned away, said John Gurda, Milwaukee historian and author.

“That stuff was undrinkable in the ’70s,” Gurda said. “It had a very pronounced chemical taste.”

My experiences over the last few years have taught me that quality control has not been a recent point of emphasis for Schlitz. Still, I’m excited about this. I think a B-double-E-double-R-U-N is in order. With one solid road trip we (as in anyone else who is willing and I) can pick up some Schlitz (maybe some Stroh) and definitely some Fat Tire.

I had suspected that my recent travels without my ID weren’t too unique. Lending credence to that suspicion is an article from the San Francisco Chronicle from October 2004. Here’s a piece:

Three days later, when it was time to fly home from Las Vegas, I got to the airport three hours early. It was a good thing, too, because the security line snaked and folded back on itself, like a line at Disneyland. Stretched out fully, it must have been 200 or 300 yards long. Before I even got in line, I had to present my expired ID and tale of woe to a TSA employee.

“OK, sir, you’re going to have to go get in that line over there,” he said, pointing at a second security checkpoint, one with only one other person in line. He was directing me to the first-class line.

I showed the TSA agent my boarding pass with the not-quite scarlet letters “SSSS” on it; he pulled me aside for what I expected would be yet another full Monty. But all his colleague did was give me a perfunctory wanding. There was no pat-down, and no one opened my luggage.

Nor did anyone punch my boarding card. “Oh, that’s just a California thing,” said a gate agent when I asked her about it. “We don’t do that here.”

Well, that was about the fastest I’ve scooted through security, anywhere, since Sept. 11. But it didn’t leave me feeling confident about the thorough and consistent application of the TSA screening rules. When I got home, I called the local TSA office.

Or, as the title of the article and my experience suggest, “Rules are rules for air security — except when they’re not.”

Other assorted material on the web indicates that some people try to fly without ID as a kind of sport. Or, I should say, that they try to fly without showing ID. I can’t say that I recommend that. Although I am interested in learning more about how to get to go through the shortest security line.