More on the outstanding Jefferson’s Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout, documented one post back.
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Stout Video
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Tag Archives: beer
Memorable Potables, #1098234
A co-worker dropped a couple of bottles of Jefferson’s Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout by my cube a couple of weeks ago. This is a stout, aged for 60 days in Jefferson Reserve Bourbon barrels. I’d waxed semi-poetic about Jefferson Reserve small batch bourbon previously. Based on my fondness for the bourbon, my co-worker suggested I try out the stout.
Firstly, I am not a beer snob by any means. The industrial, US big name beers, cold and within reach, have brought much joy to watching sporting events, grilling food, and listening to country music.
Secondly, I rarely drink stouts. When I’m in the proper frame of mind, I’ve been known to enjoy some of the finer products of the brewer’s art.
So, last night being steak night and all, I opened the first bottle, and carefully poured the dark nectar into a pint glass1 to enjoy a pre-dinner libation. And what a treat. The bitterness and heaviness I’d previously associated with stouts was nowhere in evidence. While more robust than the common lagers I’ve been knocking back for decades, this stuff was creamy and aromatic. The hint of the bourbon was unmistakeable, and there was a subtle hint of chocolate in the finish. MLB had a little sip and pronounced it to be primo.
I wouldn’t kill a twelver of this watching NASCAR races, but man, for pure enjoyment, it was excellent. One reason one doesn’t swill this is that it has ABV 8%. Stout, indeed. It needs to be savored at the proper time, and in the proper manner.
It’s hard to find around here, apparently. But, in case my coworker makes any more excursions in search of it, I’ll have a few bucks to pay him for whatever he’s willing to mule back for me.
Oh, and I slept like a baby last night. ABV 8% has its advantages.
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Lugging the Brick of Humility Again
Yesterday, like most Saturdays of late, was spent in front of my Fedora 10 laptop, while the teevee was tuned in to NASCAR and/or NCAA Football. And both activities are enhanced by a cold one or two.
Yesterday, the cold and within reach brew got a little too close to the laptop; I glanced up from the keyboard, looked out of the wrong half of my bifocals, and knocked the can over. Instantly, the right 20% or so of the keyboard was awash in Original Coors. I quickly powered the system down, yelled at my little bride to bring down some paper towels – stat. I mopped off the keyboard and the surface of the table. I then sprayed under the impacted key caps with canned air. This forced the malt beverage from under the keys, and I used a paper towel to swab up the liquid. I powered the laptop up briefly, so I could open the cdrom drive. A little canned air in and around that area, and I then took a hairdryer, set on low, and went over all the impacted areas yet again.
So, now it was time to see if I’d bricked the entire machine. I powered it up, no smoke, no sparks, no frying. Good. Next, make sure keys work. Most of them do, except for backspace, “|”, and “\”. Well, crap. Unix systems need the pipe. So, more canned air under those keycaps, followed by a little repeated pressing, and they were OK.
This morning, all seems well, except for “Home”, “PgUp”, “Pause/Break”, and that funny little winders-logo key, all of which either don’t function or are sporadic in their functioning. I use a very minimalistic keyboard at work1; it doesn’t even have such keys, so the loss of them shouldn’t impact me on the laptop. It does bother me, though; the fact that even a key I never use doesn’t work, just grates on me. A quick search for a replacement keyboard reveals they cost $80. It’s beginning to grate a little less.
So, I’ll keep on with the limbering up of those keys; hopefully, they’ll come around. Man, this whole episode was dumb. On the bright side, I at least didn’t spill a Shiner’s. That would have doubled the tragedy.
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American Beer
It appears to me that American beer is now to be found in Texas. Not on the side of a race car, not known for equine cartage displays, but just an excellent product:
-k-
Ode to the Taxman
From my Brown City MI connection, a piece of practical poetry, with more than one grain of truth:
Taxes
At first this seems funny … until you realize the awful truth of it.
Be sure to read all the way to the end!Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he’s fed.Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.Tax his ties,
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries, then
Tax his tears.Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his assTax all he has
Then let him know
That you won’t be done
Till he has no dough.When he screams and hollers,
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He’s good and sore.Then tax his coffin ,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he’s laid.Put these words
upon his tomb,
“ Taxes drove me to my doom…”When he’s gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Taxes
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Sales Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Non-recurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation TaxSTILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?
Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no
national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.What the hell happened? Can you spell “politicians!” And I still have to “press 1” for English.
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And a reasonably clever title to the post, if I do say so myself.
And What a Time It Was
Last Saturday, SWMBO and I had the distinct and once-in-a-lifetime pleasure of being in attendance for Dave Slusher’s 40th birthday celebration. Though Dave’s actual birthdate is in August, the celebration was held on Saturday, so that Michelle Malone could come and perform for the revelers.
And what a time we had; there were mounds of food1, a keg of Yuengling2, and a selection of dessert items, chips, salsa, dips, and those types of party fare.
The food was wonderful; a mound of pulled pork, South Carolina style, baked beans, a bushel of coleslaw which earned both SWMBO’s and my seal of approval, and the magnificent Horry County concoction called chicken bog. In attendance was a certified barbeque judge, and a two-time champion of the Horry County Bog-Off; I didn’t get their verdicts on the fare; I just know I went back to the table several times. I must admit to looking for barbeque sauce; I saw a tub of something red, and thought “Ahh, sauce.” Then I realized the tub contained salsa, whereupon I remembered that South Carolina barbeque is served in a vingear and spice based dressing, which was tangy and in no need whatever of any additional condiments. And chicken bog is on our list of something to prepare for ourselves.
Dave picked the songs for Michelle Malone’s set, and nearly everything that I thought “I hope she plays … ” was played, including SWMBO’s and my favorite Butter Biscuit. Michelle can literally sing anything; you’ll hear blues, folk, country, pop, and rock. And she sounds good irrespective of the number or type of musicians backing her up. Head out to her website, buy yourself some CDs, and see for yourself. I bought 3 more CDs after the show, to add to my MM collection of 9 others.
I switched to bottled water for the last hour or so of the party, not wanting to be in any client relationship with Horry County’s finest, and SWMBO and I headed back to our hotel, and returned home yesterday, as I’ve already documented.
I missed the telecast of the Brickyard 400 whilst driving home yesterday, but that’s all right. The green flag flies someplace every weekend; celebrating a birthday milestone with someone you consider family happens only once.
-k-
[tags]evilgeniuschronicles, michellemalone[/tags]
Happy SysAdmin Day, 2007
Today is System Administrator’s Appreciation Day. If you can’t provide h(im|er) with donuts or beers, for heaven’s sake, please don’t treat h(im|er) like (s)he just fell off the yam wagon.
For just one day, OK? Damn, we don’t ask much.
-k-
[tags]sysadminday[/tags]
Home from the Hills
The West Virginia trip was a 100% authenticated blast. Our host and hostess are about as laid back as we are; we were shown our room, bathroom, location of such things as coffee, etc, and told to make ourselves at home. And we did.
Last night, we had the traditional beer drinking, grilling, bocce ball playing, fireworks watching experience. SWMBO and I left for the trip back to NoVA around noon or so today, and were one turn from our homestead when work butted in intervened. So I got a half-day vacation, my phone assistance to coworkers counting as an official time at bat and all.
We also broke in our new GPS device, to see how it behaved in semi-familiar territory. The digitized female GPS voice has been named Diana. I didn’t heed her U-turn advice where there was no place nor need to execute such a maneuver, but other than that, she did a stand up job.
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The Code of the SysAdmin
I’ve been pushing buttons, clicking mice, and typing in arcane crap from command lines for a good many years now. And today carried on that tradition. I was on my way to the bank to deposit some checks 1, with a trip to my franchise haircut place planned for afterwards. A ring of the cellphone derailed the tonsorial plans, as an admin buddy of mine found himself in undeserved distress from system users.
He needed some help; no problem, I’ll be home when I’m done at the bank. The haircut can wait.
Some of our filesystems had gone out to lunch due to failure of external systems which we don’t manage.
First step was to assess the damage. I logged in from home, my buddy was ensconced in his shabby cubicle at work, and we did the evaluation of the problem. No smoking gun. Damn. So, iff’en you cant fix it, you monitor the problem.
Over the next few hours, we crafted a simple-minded little script to watch our stuff, put that script in cron, and wired it up to the Tivoli monitors we already use. Tested it, and by damn, it catches the problem, without solving same.
This is what sysadmins do:
- Help a brother out.
- Stay until the job is done.
- Proceed one step at a time.
- Drink celebratory beers.
- Be thankful, that at least for this weekend, they aren’t on call.
Not a lot of work-specific stuff, but admins help each other out. That’s rule #1.
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Nuts to All
I’d written earlier about a certain delicacy that I remember from my days on the Great Plains.
Proving that this enjoyment isn’t limited to that geographic area, the folks of Elderon WI have a deep-fried version of that particular gastronomic delight; the festival is an annual affair, 12 years running.
And one comment from a festival-goer says:
“Once you get over the mental (aspect) of what you’re eating, it’s just like eating any other food, and it tastes good,” Buster Hoffman said.
And he’s exactly right. The best line, however:
Butch Joubert, 58, likes the parts sandwiched between bread with tartar sauce. They’re not so different from regular meatballs also served at the festival, he said.
“After a few beers, you can’t really tell the difference,” Joubert said.
Beer. Is there anything it can’t do?
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[tags]elderonwi[/tags]