Flashback Friday: Play Ball!

Today is Cleveland's home opener. Hopefully, it won't be snowed out. Regardless, I'm happy it's baseball season. If I can run once for every game in a season, I'll be happy -- because I doubt I'll be happy with the performance of my team this year.

The start of the Indians' season signals the end of March. I'm still looking for that Spring weather. Until then, here is last month's statistical rundown:

• Total Miles: 22 miles (five runs)
• Highest Weekly: 7 miles
• Average Weekly: 5.5 miles
• Average Pace: N/A (no watch used)
• Longest/Fastest Run: ~5 miles @ ~10:00 pace
• The Monthly Dif: 0 miles (22 miles in February)

Time to get serious. 

Back Talk
Wherein we set records straight. 

KWB has a quibble about my Goose Island news: "Actually Stella Artois bought out Annheiser [sic] Busch a couple of years ago. It was a big deal and people in STL started shaking in their boots for fear of layoffs. But SA stayed true and kept AB doing what they do. So, blame SA and not AB."

Answer: Actually, that's not entirely true. As Al mentioned, InBev is the company that bought Anheuser-Busch in 2008. However, the official company name is now Anheuser-Busch InBev.

David has a quibble about my My Antonia review, or rather my comment to that post: "Quit hatin' on PBR - every can I've opened was a blue ribbon winner."

Answer: Cool it, killer. I didn't say one disparaging word about your shitty Blue Ribbon beer.

Happy Hour is happening all day today, as the Viper has taken an R&R day from work. Have a finely brewed weekend, teammates. Run well and drink well. Cheers!

A Bud Light on the Island of Geese

It's old news now, but Anheuser-Busch has bought Goose Island for $38.8 million. The deal was announced Monday, and signals a blow to the craft brewing market. I fear other macro-breweries will attempt to cash in on the success of micro brews by buying up solid brands.

Goose Islands certainly never knocked me out with their creative brews, but most flavors were a solid choice when faced with limited options. Now, who knows what will happen to the quality.

The mega-super-ultra conglomerate beer company now owns:

• Budweiser 
• Michelob
• Busch
• Natural Light
• Natural Ice
• Shock Top
• Beach Bum
• Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale
• Hop Hound Amber Wheat
• Winter Bourbon Cask Ale
• Bass
• Becks
• Boddingtons
• Czechvar
• Hoegaarden
• Kirin
• Leffe
• Stella Artois
• Redbridge
• Rolling Rock
• Wild Blue
• Ziegen Bock
• King Cobra
• Bacardi
• Tilt 
• Redhook
• And there's more ... 

Scrolling through Anheuser-Busch's holdings, I was surprised by a few beers that I didn't know were kin to the King of Beers. And that's my point. These large brewing corporations are savvy marketers, and those of us with a palate for craft brewing need to beware of these business deals. 

While overall beer sales were down 1 percent last year, craft beer sales were up 11 percent. Don't doubt that similar deals may soon be in the headlines. 

Flashback Friday: Boredom Bonus

The real Flashback Friday is here.

However, some new shit has come to light that I thought all my Booze Hounds needed to know. It seems that MillerCoors, the company that brings you tasteless macrobrews such as, well, Miller and Coors, has experienced so much success from the sales of Blue Moon and Leinenkugel that the company has launched Tenth and Blake Beer Co. to capitalize on mass-brewed "craft-style" beer.

Craft beer from a company like MillerCoors is like Walmart opening a small neighborhood mom-and-pop-style market.

Consider this your warning to check your labels for evidence of such insidious business practices. Of course, your tongue should tip you off if you happen to mistakenly purchase of these brews. Drink well!

A Welcome to New Sheets

Three miles capped the month. I see the light at the end of the tunnel of this hectic two weeks, as I cross items off my to-do list. Speaking of which, June is done. Here is the statistical rundown:

• Total Miles: 94 miles (18 runs)
• Highest Weekly: 28 miles
  
• Average Weekly: 22.75 miles
  
• Average Pace: 9:23 per mile
  
• Longest/Fastest Run: 10 miles, 9:02 pace
  
• The Monthly Dif: +13 miles (81 miles in May)

My total mileage should have been 98 miles, but I'll still call it a successful first month of marathon training. I feel like I have gotten faster, and my long runs are building nicely. The challenge for the next two months will be the brutal humidity that hits Ohio in the summer.

He's Back!
After three booze-addled seasons, Zane Lamprey's Three Sheets mysteriously vanished from the airwaves. Now, he's back with more misadventures on the Fine Living Network. As Martini said upon hearing the news, "And our lord returned!" If you still haven't seen the first three seasons, check them out on Hulu. Cheers!

'He's Playing the Pan Beers'

We interrupt this screed (and that screed) on my marathon training principles to bring you the latest in boozing news and trends. First, we have the newest episode of Tiki Bar TV, which features one of my favorite musical instruments, the pan beers. See it below.



This past weekend, I took my Restless Leg Syndrome to the Great Lakes Brewing Co. for a pint and later I grabbed a four-pack from the same brewery at the grocer.

At the brew pub, Great Lakes had a deliciously smokey porter called Big Black Smoke, which you can't have because they only have it at the brewery so there! At the grocer, there was a four-pack of Great Lakes' newest seasonal, Glockenspiel. Both beers were excellent, but quite different from each other and from many other Great Lakes beers.

The Big Black Smoke was rich and flavorful. As a Scotch man, I love smokey flavors so this taste may not appeal to everyone. But I loved this porter and hope to see it in stores some day.

The Glockenspiel, on the other hand, was a German-style dark, unfiltered wheat beer with a deep, fruit-tinged flavor. My only complaint is the four-pack. Where are the other two beers? I'm thirsty here!

[Drunkard's note: Go pour some out for our homie.]

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

My running habits remain as patternly as ever. I have no direction. It pisses me off.

Some of you have noticed my increasing crankiness. I find that I'm taking myself too seriously. I'm sure it makes this blog a bore to read.

It is time to plow under this barren earth and sprout anew. Spring is here. A time for rebirth. Time for the cool gloaming to give rise to dewy warmth. And for this slithering one to molt its vituperate shell. It is time to let this dusty old drunk ride off on his barstool into the sunset. Look now to the east.

Booze News
A Newark, Ohio, man has been charged with operating a vehicle while intoxicated (OVI) after he crashed a motorized barstool and injured himself. The barstool was built from a riding lawn motor. The man told police his barstool-mobile can reach 38 mph -- no word on its fuel efficiency.

[Drunkard's note: Top image from someecards.com. Barstool-mobile from Gizmodo.]

Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

It made Pablo Picasso paint noses in places where noses don't go. Edgar Allen Poe could never say never more to having one more. One tipple of it made Toulouse Lautrec feel six feet tall when he was four-and-a-half feet small.

The United States banned absinthe in 1912, but now all's well. And apparently all has been well since March 2007, unbeknownst to this researcher. Shows what little I know.

To make up for my gaffe and because 'tis the season, I'd like to present you with this gift, a new recipe. Well, not a recipe per se, but a new drinking ritual.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Ingredients:

• Patron Silver
• Goldschlager
• Pomegranate liqueur
• Absinthe (Originally, this recipe had creme de menthe for the green coloring.)
• Great Lakes Christmas Ale (If your local supplier does not carry Great Lakes, substitute a Christmas brew of your liking.)

Procedure:
Upon concocting this recipe I realized -- or rather I was told -- that mixing these ingredients would result in a poop brown color, which I thought was perfect. However, upon further distillation of the idea I have decided that these should be drunk (as you should be) in order.

First, because this is also a running blog, you'll want to ensure that your day's run is completed before embarking on the Nightmare Before Christmas. Either that or make it a rest day.

Second, because I don't want to offend anyone, you should know that I respect whatever holiday you celebrate. Your secular or non-secular choices are your own. I don't want a jihad on my site. But today, you're celebrating Christmas. The Nightmare Before Kwanzaa just sounds stupid. And there's no movie to reference there.

Now, let's drink.

Line up one shot each of the spirits and one pint (or 12-ounce bottle) of Christmas Ale. Before you get started, get your hi-fi synced to play the following Christmas tunes in order: "Do You Hear What I Hear," "Deck the Halls," "Holly Jolly Christmas," and "Silent Night."

When you hear in "Do You Hear What I Hear" the line "let us bring him silver and gold," then let your hand bring you Patron Silver and Goldschlager. The line is repeated in case you're slow of throat.

When you hear "deck the halls with boughs of holly," deck your gullet with the red and green of pomegranate liqueur and absinthe.

When you are told to "have a holly jolly Christmas," have a holly jolly Christmas Ale. And I mean you'd better kill it. After all, it is a cup of cheer.

When "Silent Night" whispers in your ear, the shores of Blackout Island will be near.

If that doesn't get you in the holiday spirit, then you're fucked.

[Drunkard's note: Thanks to Gin for the Absinthe information. It is no surprise to get year-old "news" from this lass.]

* * *

Mile Tracker 1,000: 84 miles to go.

'Tis the Season

The Express Ship to Blackout Island has returned. Last night, I had my first taste of this year's batch of Great Lakes Christmas Ale. I must say, it's a fine crop!

It is much better than last year's edition, which I found it to taste too much of alcohol, overwhelmingly sweet, and brought upon the mid-sip hangover a bit too roughly. This conundrum soon led me to abandon the Christmas Ale in favor of Brooklyn's Black Chocolate Stout (another fine seasonal, which I've already sampled this year to my delight).

This year, however, the Christmas Ale is much smoother, with a much more subtle sweetness. I have yet to thoroughly test its intoxicating capabilities, as I limited myself to half my usual quota. Regardless, the potent elixir eased me into gentle numbness before I slipped off to Never Ever Land. This morning was met with no residual effect whatsoever. The Viper approves.

Foxy Lady
Some people like to run with animals on a leash. Others like to run with animals clamped to their arms.

An Arizona woman encountered a fox while running on a trail near Prescott, Ariz., as reported by the San Francisco Chronicle. The fox bit the woman on the foot and then went for the woman's leg. She grabbed the fox, and it bit her arm. No big deal. She then finished her run with the fox still affixed to her arm.

When she got back to her car, she pried the fox off her arm and tossed it in the trunk and took it be tested for rabies, which it apparently had because the woman and an animal control officer, who was also attacked, were inoculated against the virus.

[Drunkard's note: I totally snagged this story from With Leather. And Nitmos also scooped me on the story. So much for that journalism degree.]

Look at Me!
The Booze Hounds Running Team made another appearance at Running Is Funny. You should click the link so you can get linked back here because, clearly, running is funny because of me.

I'm in Your Blog Stealing Your Ideas

I was all set to bring you a movie review today, but I'm ill-prepared, seeing as I fell asleep in the middle of The Loneliness of Long-Distance Runner (1962), based on Alan Sillitoe's short story of the same title. Doesn't bode well for the review, does it?

Yesterday was an off day, so I ... didn't do a thing. Although Martini did call me to see if I was running, alas I was headed to a bar with some co-workers to investigate a rumor of $1.50 22-ounce drafts. (True, by the way, and perhaps the culprit in the aforementioned sleepiness.)

The only materials I brought today for blogging are some mishmash random notes. Thanks to Nitmos's precedent, that's all I need.

Starring the Viper
If you haven't already, check out Xenia's epic blog series, "The Wizards of Blogland," starring your favorite drunkard on the innernets, yours truly. I have linked you to the first of five chapters, but the lovely (not verified) Xenia has created a helpful navigation bar on the right side of her blog to get you to the rest of the story. Enjoy.

Politically Correct
There is a right way and a wrong way to talk about race issues in running. Vanilla, as odd as it may seem for me to write it, does it right. A commentator during the Los Angeles Marathon (year unknown) does it wrong ...

Moving right along ...

Solutions for Compulsive Booze Purchases
If ever you've found yourself on holiday by mistake, you have no doubt indulged in a local adult beverage that you thought would make the perfect memento if you brought home a bottle of the cocktail's main ingredient. "It'll be like we're on vacation in our own living room," you think. So you buy that bottle of Unicum, thinking that you'll be able to work the same magic as the Eastern European mixologist who served you that Bloody Hun. And if not, the kids will enjoy it.

Sometimes though, if you don't have experimental children to raid your stash, that souvenir bottle just takes up valuable space in your liquor cabinet. Then what? You know that day will come when you're hosting a party and that guy (me, if you've invited me) has drunk up all your good booze and all you have left is that lonesome, dusty bottle that has hidden in the back for so long, nay too long. You and your remaining guest will be thirsty.

In these dire circumstances, you must learn what to do. Vicky "I swear my name's not fake" Frost finds some expert advice for just such an occasion in her article "Sickly Sweet Memories," published in The Guardian on July 23. Just remember: It's simple, simple sugar.

[Drunkard's note: Thanks to Sarah, whose father apparently drinks the stuff by choice, I know that Zwack and Unicum are one and the same, which explains why I got the fear when I saw a promotion for the liqueur at a nearby bar last year.]

F is for February

The cliche is if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes and it will change. The past three days in Northeast Ohio are why that statement exists.

This weekend provided a reprieve from all the weather I've been complaining about. Saturday was relatively calm, but cold at 30 degrees. Ice was still on the ground, but I avoided most of it by running mostly on the road. Sunday, I ran in shorts and felt overdressed for the 50-degree heatwave, which melted all the snow and ice and created an obstacle course of lake-size puddles and mudholes. I somehow managed to squeeze my run into the blue skies between the torrents of rain and wind. Today, I look outside and it is snowing sideways. Luckily, today is a rest day.

Start of Training
I've been contemplating my racing schedule for the next few months. I'm just not into committing to anything right now. I know my next race will likely be a 15K around St. Pat's Day. I plan to run the Akron Marathon again in September. Aside from that, I'm pretty undecided. However, during Friday Happy Hour, Martini and I rehashed the Summer Solstice Challenge.

June 21 marks the first day of summer. It also happens to be a Saturday. To celebrate the longest day of the year, we thought we'd run our longest run ever. The goal is this ...



... the northern leg of the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath Trail from our nearest parking area to the start of the trail near Cleveland. [Drunkard note: you can read more about the route by linking to my training log at right.] I figure it will take anywhere from eight to 12 hours, depending on time of death.

This dumbfuck brilliant plan will require that I consider many more factors than proper hydration. I'll need to eat on the run, carry more supplies than just my keys and have an emergency plan if I get hurt or need a ride home. And there are probably a whole bunch of other things that I haven't imagined.

So, from here on out, I'm training to run 40 miles. I will be sure to draw up a will before I set out.

Booze News
This was up awhile ago. But guess what? Runner's World says beer is good for runners. Wine is too. Those who have been reading this site already know that.

The malt and hops used to make dark beers contain flavonoids, the same heart-healthy compounds in vegetables and wine that counter cell damage, thus reducing your risk of heart disease and cancer. Beer also contains B vitamins and chromium, which aid in converting carbohydrates to energy.

Booze also relieves pain and improves confidence. Run well, drink well.

Run Like Pheidippides ... or Not

You know, I didn't think it would be that hard to go shopping for some new running gear this weekend. As Daylight Savings Time is no more, I figured I should have some shiny outerwear to alert cars that I am not in fact a target. So, it is with that motivation I set off to find a reflective running jacket and/or technical shirts.

I also did not want to spend a Brazilian dollars.

I crisscrossed the county in search of something -- anything -- that would work. I was not being picky. However, my idea of reflective does not seem to match that of most sporting gear manufacturers.

Most of the clothing had only nickel-size swatches of Scotchlite. Or just the zipper would be reflective. Almost none had any sort of reflective material on the back. Do these companies not understand night vision?

The one jacket I did find, a Brooks nylon shell, cost $100. Not in this lifetime. My friend suggested I buy a roll of reflective tape and make my own jacket. I'm inclined to a agree. After all that nonsense, I ended up with a plain white long sleeve C9 tech shirt. At least now I have two white shirts to wear instead of my other charcoal gray shirt.

Runningness
--Need one another reason to hate Oprah? Edward McClelland at Salon.com explains how Oprah sullied the marathon along with John Bingham. McClelland reminds us that the marathon is a race and just finishing should not suffice as success. It's another entry into the ridiculous jogger vs. runner debate, but he makes some good points.

If the marathon is populist enough for everyone to pin on a number, it's also populist enough for everyone to kick ass.

Right on! Let's all strive to run like a motherfucker. I have some PRs to the right, and I'm going to break every single one of them in the next year.

--Elsa Simcik has a provoking article in the Dallas Morning News about running without aids like music and gels. I'm a anti-iPod runner myself, and when I train I typically avoid water stops and never take energy boosters with me. So, I totally like running more than you do. But get this:

So does that mean that if you need extra help like energy boosters or music that I think you just shouldn’t run at all? Of course not. I’m simply suggesting that runners challenge themselves to enjoy the sport in the most natural way — the way Greek messenger Pheidippides did when he ran those 26.2 miles that started the marathon.

Never mind that Pheidippides didn't run 26.2 miles. And never mind that Pheidippides enjoyed the run so much that afterward he dropped dead.

--Speaking of which, I'm sure most of you have heard the sad news about Ryan Shay. I watched the U.S. men's Olympic Marathon Trials on tape delay. Ryan Hall's move at the 16th mile to clinch the win (and record) was simply amazing. He pretty much emasculated the rest of the field. I was rooting for the fu manchu-ed Brian Sell, who came in third.

--Looking for a winter marathon in a warm place? McNews has it. However, they list the ING New York City Marathon. They must have been thinking it was an El Nino year.

Booze News
--Are we entering a new age of Prohibition? Nick Gillespie at Reason Magazine describes a Neo-Prohibitionist movement in which boozers are under attack and introduces me to perhaps the greatest book title ever: Nanny State: How Food Fascists, Teetotaling Do-Gooders, Priggish Moralists, and other Boneheaded Bureaucrats are Turning America into a Nation of Children.

--The Halifax Daily News conducted some important journalism, which indicates that cheap drink specials may influence heavy drinking. Sounds like my Friday night at my favorite happy hour bar, which has more than 50 beers on tap for $2 a pint until 9 p.m. What'd I'd like to know is why all these Halifaxians are pre-drinking elsewhere when beverages are only a $1.

Flashback Friday

I have now run more this week than I did in the last three weeks combined, and this weekend I plan to make that four weeks. I have not been running fast. Nor have I been running far. But I have been running pain free.

My hip and groin finally feel normal, but I feel like a newbie, rebuilding my distance and speed. I'm sure my body has done a fine job of untraining since the Akron Marathon, but I still feel like there is still a lot of base left. I just have to get my injured parts and lungs caught up.

On average, it takes about two weeks for every week you're off to retrain. I'm hoping since I wasn't completely off in these past four weeks that I can come back a little faster. However, I have to avoid flashing back to just about every other time I've been injured and tried to do too much, too soon. In that effort I'm running watch-free, which helps me better listen to my body.

I'd like to hit these next few months with enough gusto to run right through the dreary Ohio winter. Running was my antidote seasonal affective disorder, and it has since become my Prozac. Any time I need let out some steam, I go for a hard and fast run. If I need to think things through, I go for a long run. But like life, running is full of its own pratfalls and pains, from injuries and poor race showings. And this has all been a lead up to me pointing you to the Salty One, who has a great post about facing those hard moments in running -- and more importantly in life.

Pain is part of running. It's part of life. Overcoming it is what makes both things great.

A damned good quote. Wish I'd written it.

Booze News
Make sure you shoe any fruit flies away from you beverage. Those little bastards are stealing your drunk and pretty soon they'll be drinking you under the table. In a new study, have proven that genes might have something to with the flies' -- and maybe even your -- drinking prowess. Well, I'll be damned! I mean, I always bragged that I was built to drink, but now I have proof!

Shoe fly don't bother me ...

A Day Off

Well, I decided to take that extra day after all. I waffled on the decision all day, finally teetering toward the no-run-please side when I received and invitation to booze. I bolstered my recovery when I got home by icing and rewrapping my ankle. I boosted my immune system with the purchase of two containers of OJ (Simply Orange, I recommend it) before I went to the Captain's for some beers and baseball. (The Cleveland Indians are now five wins or Detroit Tigers' losses away from clinching the American League Central Division, wahoo!)

I still woke up with a sore throat and sniffles (should have taken the whiskey cure), but my ankle is feeling much better. I'll see if Martini wants to go for 6 miles or so this evening and get back at it.

Booze News
And so you can't afford gas, your stocks have bottomed out and your paycheck just ain't cutting it in today's sketchy market. That doesn't mean you can't afford to drink well. CNN reports that upscale booze sales are still strong during these hard times. Not really a shocker.

"You can go to a bar and have a pleasurable drink and it's going to cost you $2 or $3 more." [...] "It's not going to break you."

Amen.

Heaven Sent

I'm not much for religion, but I'm thanking whichever higher powers are out there for the most brilliant invention in the market of mobile hydration. Most runners are hooked on those energy gels like GU, but Pocket Shots blow those lame body boosters out of the water. Hailed as "perfect for marathon drinkers [and] drinking marathoners," these palm sized shooters are a must for the aspiring Team Booze Hound Inc. runner.

In the Books
I finally fit that 20-miler in, yesterday. It took me 3 hours, 38 minutes and 2 seconds. I'm wearing an Ace bandage on my knee today. The inside of my left knee is sore from the pounding. I felt a similar pain on Thursday's eight-mile night-time trek over the woods and through the hills. The pain came during the return trip of the out-and-back and forced me to walk for a couple minutes, but I ran through it. This pain arrived this morning. Hopefully, it's just from the beating and not an injury.

More in Energy Booze
In the ongoing saga of the assault on caffeine-infused malt beverages, several state attorneys general have petitioned the federal Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau to investigate beverages such as Sparks and Bud Extra for being marketed toward underage drinkers.

"Nonalcoholic energy drinks are very popular with today's youth," Oregon Attorney General Hardy Myers said. "Beverage companies are unconscionably appealing to young drinkers with claims about the stimulating properties of alcoholic energy drinks."

I'd say energy drinks--and caffeine in general--are popular with today's public overall. Have you noticed that Starbucks place that moved into your home town and displaced the locally owned breakfast counter? And claims about stimulating properties of alcoholic energy drinks? My word, you're right! We better put the brakes on this right away. Hey, I know, let's regulate everything and change it from the United States of America to the United States of No Fun.

Booze + Flash Floods = 0 Miles

The booze and rain drenched weekend washed out my planned 20-miler.

The main obstacle was an overnight camp-out and graduation party Saturday for a couple friends who finished their masters degrees this summer. I could do my usual route either Saturday morning or Sunday night. The miracle of Google maps helped me find a route from the campsite if I wanted to run Sunday morning. All these grand plans, panned as the booze flowed well and often.

Friday happy hour drinking nixed Saturday morning. A 3 p.m. to pass out shift and the onset of another damned late summer Midwest monsoon negated any activity Sunday. Maybe today? Probably not 20 miles. Not enough daylight or desire after a full day of work. But maybe a three-hour run. Or maybe not a full day of work.

First Run
I broke the cherry on my new New Balance. Delightful. I'm thinking I might donate my Asics to a charity after the marathon. Just because I don't like them doesn't mean someone else won't.

Booze News
Those kooks in California apparently have no idea what "distilled spirits" means. The California Board of Equalization (what does that even mean?) voted that the likes of Mike's Hard Lemonade, Smirnoff Ice and Bacardi Silver--wine coolers, essentially--should be classified as distilled spirits. Speak Out California, a coalition of so-called progressives, calls the move a victory over booze peddlers, who market these sugar-filled, fruity catastrophes toward younger drinkers.

"[Booze manufacturers] diabolically concocted a way to make liquor--which normally tastes yucky to kids--appeal to young palates," writes Rosemary Shahan, a board member of Speak Out and a self-righteous prig if I ever saw one. The group argues that these "alcopops" (the first time I've heard the term) are meant for teenagers. The new tax classification limits where these beverages can be sold, making these diabolic beverages less available to underage drinkers.

While I don't contend that underage drinkers should have easier access to these beverages, this ruling shows a complete disregard for proper boozing. Now, this vomit juice shares the same classification as my beloved Laphroaig? I don't think so. These are clearly diluted spirits, which in my state are available at grocery stores just like these "alcopops." At most, they should be classified as malt liquors.

I can't believe this group is using the "save the children" argument. Give me a break. What youngster is going to waste his allowance on a sixer of Seagrams Coolers when a 30-pack of the Beast is just a few bucks more? Kiddos who want to drink may not have such advanced palates, but they aren't stupid. They understand value pricing. (If you want to call that value.)

Flag Day with a Vengence

The capper to this weekend's annual Flag Day celebration was when the two drunks decided they needed a picnic table. Last call had kicked them out of the bar, but the fun was not over. She said let's take it, and he grabbed a side. They wobbled it about 50 yards when a police cruiser drove past and made a U-turn.

They tried to walk away casually, but the officer was having none of that. He ran their licenses and told them to take it back. A man on his cell phone narrated the scene to the person on the other line. Had the drunks made him move when they took the table? The police officer berated the two, called them the "scum of the Earth" and asked them how old they needed to get before they stopped doing this sort of thing. Was this a veiled wish for a happy birthday? He let them go, but said there would be trouble if they were spotted again.

From Thursday through Sunday, the viper struck and struck and struck again, racking up large bar tabs and running amok. Some how, running stayed on schedule.

Mileage: 16 (6 Thursday, 10 Sunday)
Tab: 1 pitcher Labatt Blue, 1 pitcher Stella Artois, 1 pitcher Great Lakes Dortmunder, 2 shots Jameson ... (memory burn) ... 1 hefty pour of Bushmills in next morning's coffee ... 12 pack Labatt Blue, 12 pack Warsteiner velum (the lighter variety), 1 pitcher Labatt Blue ... (more memory burn) ... run in with police ... Bloody Mary next morning ... 3 Labatt Blue bottles, ~1/3 bottle Johnnie Walker Red Label ... 1 Magic Hat #9 22 oz., 2 Miller Lights (disclaimer: at Cleveland Indians game), 1 Great Lakes Burning River bottle, 1 Labatt Blue pint.

A Drunk's Operation
It appears that gastric bypass surgery will make you a much cheaper date. Doctors have concluded that having the procedure will reduce your tolerance. Those who have had the operation can get legally drunk on one glass of wine. (Source)

So, does insurance cover this?

Taking Responsibility

This just came over the BHI wires: "Crash-linked booze trial pushed back," from KRQE News 13 in Albuquerque, N.M. A woman is on trial for selling a six pack to a guy who ended up killing a family and himself in a drunk driving crash. Apparently, the guy was already drunk when he bought the beer at a convenience store and the clerk still sold it to him. Since when is a cashier a police officer?

It's a tragedy that the family was killed, but the clerk should not be liable for this man's actions. This six pack was not the cause of the collision. It was the however many drinks he had before that. The clerk should have alerted police, but she should not be held accountable for this man getting drunk on a plane, driving drunk home, stopping for more beer and driving the wrong way down the highway. Otherwise, everyone who had contact with him between the airport and the wreck should be included in this trial.

Delinquent Drunk

Deadlines and dunks resulted in one drunk content provider last weekend. Also, Tuesday and last night. The Viper restored meaning to falling down drunk. After the Cleveland Cavaliers won the Eastern Conference finals last Saturday, he dropped four LeBomb Jameses, stumbled to a friend's house and crashed on a futon. That is to say, he fell into it, mashing his knee, pummeling his forearm and splitting his forehead. His last memory was of holding his head. He woke up to the sight of a blood stain on his pillow the size of a silver dollar pancake.

Tuesday, Viper met his deadline and was ready to let loose again. He hit happy hour with some co-workers for three tall drafts and went home to eat. Inside his apartment arose a ruckus. A squirrel sat on top of his record player. "Welcome home, sweetheart," he thinks. "What took you so long?" The visitor rushed to the window but can't find a seam to escape. Viper closed the window to trap squirrel. Squirrel is quick and the window it sticks. Squirrel escaped through an inch gap and into viper's room. Viper gave chase, but is baffled to find--or that is to say, not find--the squirrel. It apparently has taken the red pill and escaped through the rabbit hole. Viper escaped to the pub.

Last night, the Cavs lose the first game of the NBA finals to the tune of a 12-pack. And that brings us back up to speed.

Booze News:
Do not go into any retail shops in New York or Toronto with beer. Apparently, they will shanghai your brew and give you a bag in return. I thought they were supposed to put the beer in the bag. The New York Times reports that Crumpler bag shops in Manhatten and Toronto are planning a beer barter promotion whereby you give them top notch beer and they give you an uber trendy bag with a really pretentious name, like Status Belly or Moderate Embarassment. They seem to think this is a real good deal.

As Mr. Cousley put it, “Beer is the universal language.” Besides, he said, the price of the beer used to barter represents a 40 to 50 percent savings over the bags’ full retail price. “It’s a complex mathematical equation.”

Not so complex--it's a scam. Friends, the value of a cozy beer drunk is priceless. Don't give up your suds for a shitty messenger bag. I would think otherwise if they were accepting low grade brews, but apparently they are not, which I do have to respect. Nonetheless, it's a raw deal.

It appears, though, that the store will donate some of the beer. So if you are needy, you can hang about outside and beg.

Crumpler also gives cases to charity, sporting and art events, especially to student artists. “To pay for the booze for your opening night can be quite costly,” Mr. Roper said. “We’ll donate 20 cases or whatever it is. We spread the love.”

On that note, I have an art opening to organize.