Brewed Musings

Brewed Beverage of Choice: There is not one for this instance…

O.K. I must get on my soapbox because I have not in a while and I have been touched by a column written by Shaun Powell of New York Newsday. (Thanks to Dan Patrick, who was maligned on his show today, for bringing this column to my attention.)

When I was in grade school growing up in Waterford, Wisconsin, I was called “N- Lips” by many of my class mates, only to find out years later that my brother was also called this. I was too young to really understand what the N-word meant, but I knew it was bad. Several years later my brother and I were riding our bikes home from getting some baseball cards when he told me he had gotten one of my favourite players on a card. I, in turn, called him a son-of-a-bitch. He immediately reprimanded me and told me that by using it I was calling our mother a bitch, which obviously was not my intention. I have never used that phrase again towards another human being…swearing while alone in the brewery…yes…not at another living person.

By the time I had gotten into my senior year in high school I became very intolerant of any kind of discrimination. My dad used the N word in front of me and I immediately got up from my chair, pointed at him, and told him to never use that word in front of me again. Days later he thanked me. I have yet to hear that word from him since. One of my ex-girlfriend’s brothers used that word one too many times and got punched in the stomach…by me. Of course I felt bad…still do because I do not find violence as the key to solving life’s problems. And if you think it is just the N word or bitch that chaps my skin, you are wrong.

My best friend, Charity, was a lesbian and she taught me to never use the word “dyke.” I was not using it at all but had heard people at work using it. If it was not for her, I would not have been able to tell one of my co-workers and friends to not use the word. Of course their response is, “Why not? I hear lesbians use it all the time. Why is it o.k. for them and not us?” I then tell them that it is not o.k. for them to use it, but we are talking about you and I.

Shaun Powell had the courage to write down what I had been thinking for decades. Gay men should not use the word “faggot.” When Eminem said he was not a homophobe for using the same word because he was using it as a put down of other rappers, we as a society should have said, “So what! It is still wrong!” All these words come from ignorance…Faggot, Dyke, Nigger, Chinqs, etc. Gay men using Fag, black men using the N word may take the word’s power away from the dominant society of white males, but it is still a powerful word of dominance and ignorance. It definitely does not make it right.

I agree with Shaun Powell that it is through education that we overcome this malaise. Should Imus have been fired? Sure, but he should also have been made to use his last program to educate his listeners through the use of guests like Mr. Powell. Last night, I was asked if I thought a woman who had used the word faggot to describe John Edwards should be fired. I was not familiar with the woman at the time and kind of danced around the subject. But today I would say she should have been given the same treatment as Imus. The definition, the power of certain words will never change no matter what the context.

Of course I live in a Confucian dream world where everything can be solved through education. Imus’ listeners would still feel the same way if they got to hear people like Shaun Powell. We are always going to have an Imus. There will always be people who try to put someone down to build themselves up. My hope is that through education and simple thought we in society will only hear those others as a babbling brook in the background.

I must get off this box now because it cannot support my weight. Next time I will get an apple crate instead of a soapbox.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

PS: Thanks to all who have educated me, corrected me, and inspired me to stand up and speak.

Brewed Beverage of Choice:  An Imperial Pint of Oak Aged Stonecutter’s Scotch Ale

Every two years I become violently ill for some reason.  Stranger still is that it coincides with election years.  Do not get me wrong, I vote like every good American should.  But when I turn on the tele or listen to the radio, the ads put out by campaigns for this and that sicken me.  And it is a two way street on what causes me to wretch: the ads using misleading tactics to sway voters AND the voters falling for these tactics without ever questioning them or their motives.  In fact it is the latter that makes me more ill.  And in my dreamy brewing world I thought that we, as brewers, would never fall into such frays.  Oh how wrong I was.

Two or so weeks ago the company I work for had its annual “Battle for the Belt” in which all 20 breweries within the company vie for the title belt and a trip to the Oregon Brewers Festival.  Fortunately and unfortunately, the vote is left up to the patrons.  I say unfortunately because each year it is held in the same pub with many of the same regulars voting for their pub’s beer.  As you can plainly see, the event is basically a glorified popularity contest.  (Although last year and possibly this year the best beer did win.)  My complaint does not, as it appears, fall on the voting process.  This year, two brewers, who I respect within the industry, took the competition to an all new low.

Much like elections are won with money and “propoganda”, this year’s battle became a showcase for free t-shirts and stickers handed out by these two brewers.  Everywhere you looked someone had on one of their t-shirts including a general manager who was serving every table (conflict of interest?) and the wife of my former brewing partner.  I would equate the second instance to this…a wife of a Yankee player wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey or hat in public.  The result of this onslaught of propoganda and advertising blitz was a second place finish for a beer that was in the middle of the pack, which coincidentally is where we finished.

This is not the musings of a sore loser.  It may seem that way but it is not…even for a self depricator such as myself.  These two followed the very loose set of rules which had no limit to what can be spent on the competition.  Here is one major problem.  No other brewer knew they could or could not make up shirts for their beer out of their own pocket of money.  And kudos for these two who talked people into wearing their t-shirts and stickers.  My problem goes much deeper.

For me it is the beer that should do the talking for itself.  My beers are self promotion devices in and of themselves.  If patrons do not like a certain beer, I tweak it so they will.  I will not and ethically cannot stoop to have t-shirts made for my beer to win a competition.  I lost a great deal of respect for these two not because they followed the rules and loved their beer they made, but because it appeared to me that they did not trust the beer they made to be able to do well on its own.  They had to campaign in order for them to do well.  In my eyes, a brewer should never have to campaign to get people to enjoy their beers.  Advertise…yes!  Campaign…never!

So I sit here this rainy afternoon sipping on a pint of a crafted ale that finished in the middle of the pack.  There is a bit of a jaded, cynical feeling deep down because I am afraid once that door has been opened it is hard to shut.  Next year though I will make another hand crafted creation and sit down with my friends and father marveling at what great beers can be made whilst I let said creation do all my talking for me.  Besides my beers seem to have a much better vocabulary than I.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: Lakefront Bock Beer

A few months ago I received 100 free downloads from eMusic for, I think, downloading Winamp so I can listen to WMSE streaming live on the web. It took me to January of this new year to take them up on their offer. One of the many downloads I got my hands on was an album by Gil Scott Heron. On this album was a version of “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” The following is an inspiration poem with a more modern spin on the Revolution.

The revolution will not be televised.

It will not sound any better
in Dolby Stereo Surround,
and will not look any better
in high definition. You will not
be able to view the revolution
on a 55″ projection screen t.v.
as you lounge comfortably
in your lazy boy because…
The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be brought
to you commercial free
thanks to Budweiser. It is not taped
in front of a live studio audience.
It has no laugh track and no sound track.
The revolution will not be pre-empted
by the Super Bowl because…

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution has no season
premiere or no cliff-hanger season
finale. The revolution does not have
a two-part episode nor will the revolution
be thwarted by Jack Bauer in 24
one hour long episodes because…

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be won
in either a red or blue state.
Tom Brokaw, Ted Koppel, and Dan Rather
will not falsely predict the outcome
of the revolution before the night ends.
The revolution will not have a news scroll
at the bottom of the screen with the latest
news from todays events in the revolution because…

The revolution will not be televised.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A pint of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale (Get it!!!)

I would like to think that the clearing of the skies after two days of the worst storm in Oregon since at least ‘94 was a portent, an omen of what was to come in the election this evening. I would like to think that tonight was the first sign that we as Americans have finally pulled our heads out of the sand and were able to show our anger. And after coming home from walking the dog, some of the news confirmed my hope. And the coincidence of the clearing skies has now brought me the hope I have not had for many years.

For those of you who care, it seems that the Governor of Oregon will maintain his office which is good for the state because his Republican opponent had his hands in the wrong pocket. Unfortunately, the people of the state were taken in by the slick ads of the insurance companies and voted down a ballot measure to bar insurance companies from using credit scores to determine insurance rates. I dare someone to show me the correlation between someone’s credit score and the likelihood that they will get in an accident.

A lot of people who know me think I am not very political. I can get my way through an election and have my personal beliefs. As a child growing up in Wisconsin we learned you did not speak about politics in our household. I remember asking my mom who she voted for, Reagan or Carter, and she responded by saying that you do not reveal who you voted for in the election. I still do not know who she voted for that year. I would like to think it was Carter, but have a feeling it was Reagan because everyone voted for Reagan.

Mostly I am happy that the 30 second lies will finally be off the air. I am very adament that there should be NO campaign ads on television or radio. 30 seconds is not enough time to explain anything in great detail to sway voters. So thanks heavens they are over…and I voted and have the right to complain for two more years…and I did not “throw my vote away” because I did not have a Socialist candidate for whom to vote. Now is the time to celebrate!!!

Prost!

the confucian voter

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Pint of Brother Thelonius Abbey Style Ale from Northcoast Brewing

The past few days have been some of the most creative and thought-provoking ones in recent memory. First, I finally finished the biography of Lewis Mumford giving me a grand total of 1500 pages of material read and studied since the middle of August. To give you an idea of how grand a scale this is, 1500 is greater than the number of pages I have read and studied from January 1st to the middle of August.

Second, I am beginning to have dreams again. There are times in our lives where the dreams just end…they do not come whilst we sleep and we go on with our days regardless. But the past two days I have been shaken awake by the dreams I have been having. I am not to the stage of writing ‘em down yet, that will come soon enough. But I do know one of them involved snakes, which would be the second time this year I have had a rather surreal dream about snakes. (Something I will get to the bottom of, rest assured.)

Finally, during the course of my transits to and from work and walking the dog, I have spontaneously had poetry pop in to my mind. Creativity of this magnitude just sort of rumbles in like a summer storm in Wisconsin and passes just as quickly. It is something I have gotten used to in my 35 years wandering. And so without further ado, the poetry harvest (minus the one I did today…) brought by the storm of transit musing.

Poem #1

Through the brewery window
The autumn sun peaks
Enticed by the pleasant aroma
Of the morning mash
and the engaging company.

Poem #2 (thought after reading a book about Trappist Monks in Belgium and listening to Thelonius Monk)

The time spent mashing -
My morning meditation.
Diz, Billie, and the Monk -
My bop-harmony chorus.
No finer mass can be found!

And the last poem needs a bit of an introduction. The night prior to writing this particular piece I was watching the news (for whatever reason.) On it the visage of President Bush appeared. His stump speech, in so many words, was about how if the Democrats win in this election then “the terrorists have won.” The first thing that came to my head is, “How the hell can he get away with saying something such as that?” The second thing was, “How can there still be people in this country who actually believe that statement?” The most terrifying thing about that statement is that HE believes what he is saying.

President Bush Makes A Lousy Farmer!

We are calves
Waiting to become veal,
Chained to the floor by lies
And fear, held in place
Under the lazy eye
of Farmer Brown.

Brewed Beverage of Choice:  A Pint of Roots Toasted Coconut Porter (Stomach Thing-y finally gone!)

“Madmen govern our affairs in the name of order and security. The chief madmen claim the titles of general, admiral, senator, scientist, administrator, Secretary of State, even President. And the fatal symptom of their madness is this: they have been carrying through a series of acts which will lead eventually to the destruction of mankind, under the solemn conviction that they are normal responsible people, living the lives, and working for reasonable ends. Soberly, day after day, the madmen continue to go through the undeviating motions of madness: motions so stereotyped, so commonplace, that they seem the normal motions of normal men, not the mass compulsions of people bent on total death.” [Why do we allow these madmen to] “go on with their game without raising our voices?  There is a reason:  we are madmen, too…Our failure to act is the measure of our madness.” - Lewis Mumford, “Gentlemen:  You Are Mad” (1946)

I came across this quote as I was riding the train to work this morning and it occurred to me that Lewis Mumford could have easily been speaking about the events in this decade rather than the onset of the nuclear age of the mid to late 1940s.  The most important part of the quote to me is not about the madmen running around the hallowed halls of our government.  It is the part about our “madness” for not acting on the measures in front of us.

For the past few years I have made the statement to many of my friends that the decade of the 2000s is truly the 1960s without balls.  We are Eunuchs castrated by fear brought on by the McCarthy-istic Patriot Act.  It shames me to admit that I am one of these Eunuchs.  We were given a chance to look inward after 9/11 and we chose to look the other way.  We have had chances to stop what has been progressing, but have failed to get up as much as a burp.  We want to do something, but have no courage to stand up for what is right.  If our society were the student at Tiananmen Square, we would have run far away from the tank.

But lately I have been kind of re-phrasing my comments.  I still believe we are a society of eunuchs paralyzed by fear.  But if we are a mirror to any decade it is the fifties: the decade of McCarthyism; the decade of the burgeoning arms race with the Soviets; the decade of the suburbs and financial prosperity in the middle class.  But even with the modifications we are Eunuched grandchildren of the fifties because we do not have the Beats as our social conscious.

So far the best I have come up with as my revolt are the “What we need is another …” phrases which I use to raise awareness to our lack of action.  What we need is another Malcolm X!  What we need is another Cesar Chavez!  What we need is another Beat Movement!  It may be small, but it can be effective.

So I got off the train with a lot on my mind.  If we truly are a mirror image of the fifties and things go cyclical, well then I guess the revolution is coming.  Let us hope it as promising and we can all hop on the train as it passes.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of (non)Choice: A Cup of Echinacea Tea - I have a stomach thing-y

The other day as I was riding into work on the train I decided that my mind needed some time off after months of deep, progressive thought.  During this time of thoughts my mind was devouring such topics as Lewis Mumford’s organic regionalism philosophy on urban planning; how silly it is for our Republican Governor Nominee, Ron Saxson, to propose a perfomance pay initiative for teachers - something the Teacher’s Union would never support; and the sociology of the pub.  But my mind became full and so I decided it could take some time off, unknowingly mere hours before the affects of a stomach flu hit me.

And so I thought I would give you a picture of what my mind immediately latched onto right as I stepped off the train with my bike.  Not only will you see how demented I can be, but how much pop culture can seep into anyone’s conscious.  I will lead you into the whole scene because there is no other way without the use of video…and there is no way Matt Groening is going to give me authorization to show that.

Bart Simpson is in a Forestry Ranger Station standing before the figure of Smokey the Bear.  Smokey here is being used as an interactive education device.  On the stand in front of him are two buttons: one labeled “you” and one labeled “me.”  And so the following begins…

The figure of Smokey says, “Only who can prevent forest fires?”  Bart looks at the stand and presses the button labeled “you.”  The figure of Smokey responds, “You have answered you, referring to me.  That is incorrect.  The correct answer is you.”

And so you have an even better idea of how strange I can be.  I tell you it is a lot funnier in my head.  And now back to my stretch of recouperation.

Prost!

the confucian brewer