I gave up making such lists, because I suffer from Summer Vertigo.

1. Kill an entire room full of space cannibals.
2. Save John Connor.

I need to attend baseball games at the stadiums of the following Minor League teams:

Bowie Baysox
Delmarva Shorebirds
Hagerstown Suns
Potomac Nationals
Frederick Keys
Norfolk Tides
Aberdeen Ironbirds
York Revolution
Harrisburg Senators

Find a different job.

Fishing, shooting, and hiking with the family.

More specifically, a summer camping trip to Sawtooth Recreation Area in Idaho. Probably going to camp at Redfish Lake.

By the time my writing partner gives birth in July, I want to have completed with her one spec half-hour comedy, hour-long drama, and pilot.

I would also like to hike all the staircases of Echo Park and Silver Lake.

Become a father.

1: That "summer vertigo" piece was truly inspired. It's the first thing I thought of when I read this post.

I never make seasonal lists. But my plan for this summer is to spend as much time as possible in places other than New York. I can't take the heat. Or maybe it's the humidity.

1. find Gin
2. find tonic
3. find ice

After that, it's gravy.

Actually, I have a lot of fun things that I may do, a lot of fun things that I will do, and a whole variety of things that I really must do. So I feel pretty booked, if in a good way.

Go on a trip for fun.
Write my dissertation.
Play softball every week.
Learn Chinese.

9: What? learn Chinese and write your dissertation? Please see 1 for the "summer vertigo" phenomenon.

It sounds like Sifu's dance card is full. Ever since he went white tie...

I never make plans that far in advance. What will I probably do? Read a few books--fiction, nothing all that serious--attend a few shows, try to live with the stifling heat.

Will someone please do some research into who calls Beefo Meaty Sifu and who calls him Tweety and then get back to me with the results? Ideally, as a companion piece, I'd like some speculation as to why people make the choices they do. Thanks.

Also, summer plans: teach my older son how to ride his bike without training wheels, teach my younger son to love the pool, write 200 manuscript pages, write an interesting review essay on a topic as-yet undetermined. And maybe kill my blog.

It's not just your blog.

1. Buy lillet
2. Buy more herbsaint
3. Hike Mt. Whitney

teach my older son how to ride his bike without training wheels

As long as you're doing that, wanna help PK out too? Kthx.

14: I can't write it alone. But I'm pretty sure I can kill it without any help at all.

#12. I call him--in my mind, of course, since we've never been formally introduced--"Sifu," because he is--or claims to be, anyway--and I don't care to contradict him on this point--a sifu. Also I wish to cultivate good guanxi.

1. Buy lillet

Are you planning on having some kind of advanced procedure done or something?

12: I'm pretty sure I refer to him by both Sifu and Tweety here.

When we started seeing each other, it took a good month for me to start thinking of him by his real name in my head.

It's a gift.

Reverse bungee jumping.

I don't call myself "Sifu" or "Tweety" in my head. I address myself as "Arctic Wolf", or "Jetpack".

1. Make my car reliable again
2. Or get rid of it
3. Take a week's vacation somewhere

20: A real name would introduce a third variable and likely scuttle the project's methodology. Please keep such things to yourself. Our funding hangs in the balance.

For the summer:

1. Get a real tan, for the second summer in my life.
2. Write a dissertation chapter and a half.
3. Screw up the courage to contact the theater director I want to interview for the dissertation.

"Tweety," or occasionally "Tweety Bird."

23: Variable four and five! Seriously, Jetpack, please keep these things to yourself.

I intend to watch Blume get a tan. That bears mentioning.

15: I have a bottle of Lillet in my fridge.

Why anybody would refer to me as "Tweety Bird" when my full handle is "Tweety Fish" is beyond me, obviously.

Obviously.

30: I have a glass of Lillet in my hand. Sadly, I didn't think to put it in the refrigerator until just now, but that's why the good lord made ice.

Add to my list at least two Hollywood Bowl trips. Feist, Sharon Jones, Solomon Burke, Khatchatouian, The Planets -- it's a half decent summer. Meetup?

"Sifu" makes me think of the phrase "xi yi fu."

31: Because Tweety is a bird. DUH.

Also, your speech impediment.

Since I don't know how "Sifu" is pronounced, I can't call somebody that.

Sifyou?
Seefoo?
Sighfü?

35: Chris Matthews isn't a bird, B. And I picked my handle long before he got his nickname in any case.

33: ah, shows at the Bowl are so fun.

In the past, I've sometimes wavered between Sifu and Tweety. But more recently, I've settled on Sifu, even if this seems to make a noun out of an adjective, if only in the interests of his dignity.

36: well, it depends on the circumstances, obviously, but "shrr-fuoaaaa!!" screamed at the top of your longs in the midst of a massive battle in, on, and around the buddhist monastery is optimal if you're a Mandarin speaker.

if only in the interests of his dignity

The study has not yet been published, and I don't wish to bias our results, but the above is clearly the most ridiculous reason we're likely to hear.

39: Obviously.

37.1: Chris Matthews is an asshole, though, which is what *he* has in common with Tweety Bird.

The dignity thing is precisely why I really call Tweety Tweety, obviously.

40: Just keepin' it real, mon habitant, just keepin' it real...

Speaking of habitants, the Habs beat the Bruins tonight. Take that, Jetpack.

habitants

I know I should now root for the Sens, but I love the Habs for real and for true.

As I imagine they will continue to do, what with the Bruins not being very good and all.

30, 33: then you're both ok by me.

I know I should now root for the Sens, but I love the Habs for real and for true.

So these would be supporters of Amartya and Jürgen, or what?

Lillet is great, especially in hot weather.

Update: I thought, when I wrote fifteen, that I had about a half-full bottle of Herbsaint in the fridge. But actually it was practically empty, and now it's actually empty! EMERGENCY.

My cheaper hot-weather drink of choice is the Shandy, made with 2/3 lighter beer and 1/3 blood orange soda from the Trader Joe. The good kind of blood orange soda from the Trader Joe, not the bad kind.

You know what's a really refreshing hot-weather drink whose recipe is on the angostura bitters bottle? Something like 3 dashes angostura bitters, a healthy amount of lime juice, and tonic water. Fuckin' delicious.

At your option, you can add ~2oz bourbon to the mix, which I realize sounds extremely strange, but tastes good.

So these would be supporters of Amartya and Jürgen, or what?

w-lfs-n, you (relatively speaking) innocent, you. We're talking NHL.

Have a doughnut! I recommend the blackberry jam, though Ari will probably, and somewhat sentimentally, speak of the maple-glazed.

Mmmmm, maple.

w-lfs-n, you (relatively speaking) innocent, you. We're talking NHL.

The rivalries of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma! Personally I prefer B-cell, although I know that some people grew up following NK-cell lymphoma and aren't bandwagoneers.

At your option, you can add ~2oz bourbon to the mix

Telly Savalas was a big fan of the bourbon and bitters. Me, tonight I've been drinking a bottle of Torrontés while watching the 2008 Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame inductions. Yay, Madonna! For such an event and such an audience, Madonna's remarks were even rather gracious and humble. I was touched (though that may have been the wine I was feeling).

Vernor's ginger soda is really good with a couple shots of rye in the mix.

bourbon probably too, though I am convinced that I prefer rye for objective reasons rather than contrarianism or the desire to be interesting.

Since rye's the Next Big Thing, or actually maybe a Recent Big Thing, it's a good thing you don't like it out of contrarianism.

1) Room with my old high school roomie who's doing his 2L summer
2) Play frisbee in the city league with said roomie and his female friend who's a total ringer and will crush our opposition
3) Go to the beach: lie down, drink water/coke/beer, play frisbee, swim, repeat
4) Pitchfork fest, possibly a day of Lolla, and afterparties, afterparties, afterparties

All else is gravy. Delicious, refreshing gravy.

1. Keep very close tabs on my kid. She's downstairs this afternoon with a co-ed group of friends and my mom and I are up in the kitchen when suddenly, overheard, an explanation of the rules of "spin the bottle." Whaaa?! Dear God in heaven, she's only 9! I am not ready for this.

2. Throw a party, maybe, to celebrate independence, if I can get all my clean-up/painting/decorating done.

3. Get all my clean-up/painting/decorating done.

Let's see.

Likely to happen: participate in a swim meet.

Pretty likely to happen: quit this damn blog.

Not quite as likely to happen: visit Vancouver.

If I can do all three, I'll be thrilled.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, ogged. Let's not go off half cocked here.

Something against Vancouver, young friend?

If you want to visit the cut-rate Vancouver, known around here as "the 'Couve," you're welcome to borrow my truck. Seriously, though, the blog?

You haven't been in Vancouver all this time?

Urban Dictionary:

3. The Couve

Vancouver, WA a suburb of Portland, OR. "The Couve" is a town in SW Washington State. It's main activity is party hopping from one lame house to another before finally settling on the one with most amount of common-known people. It's main import is marijuana while it's main export is bar-flys. It has one mall, tons of good weed, tons of pill-poppers and lots of chicks who put out.

Anyway, list:

1. Turn in book manuscript reasonably on time.
2. Finish painting house.
3. Finish roofing house.
4. Feel remaining time on earth drain away inexorably, with attendant aches and graying.

At least one of these I'm confident I can accomplish.

On preview: Dude, you're changing your vacation plans, right?

Ari and ogged should get to work on a group non-blog.

Ari and ogged should get to work on a group non-blog.

I was just talking to someone about setting up a new blog that would have just one post on it--announcing a hiatus.

Anyway, I have a list, but it applies now instead of waiting for the summer.

1. Get a job.
1. Move to DC.
3. Learn basic economics.

70: This would make more sense if that thread hadn't been redacted.

Ha! I didn't know about that.

I think Joe's question was: "Is not blogging the new blogging?"

ogged, I'll be pretty sad to see you quit this blog.

Again.

What's the book about, Jesus?

It does seem that recently, a very high percentage of ogged's posts result in commenters saying in unison, "Shut up ogged this post is lame".

Perhaps the blogentele and blogrietor have evolved apart.

Not yet, folks, not yet. Let's make merry and keep yelling at one another while there's time.

We've reserved a particularly hideous orange for you at bandarlog.

I think Ben H and I should just share a color.

62: Vancouver really is delightful. I recommend driving up (remember, before departing, to pull out the kilo of coke you usually hide in your wheel well), checking out the city, and then taking ferries to Victoria and the Queen Charlottes. Also, be sure to drive to Whistler at dawn on a sunny day. Actually, plan to go beyond Whistler to Pemberton or even Lillooet. And from there, if you haven't already been to Alaska, just keep heading north. You'll never really run out of daylight.

77: Nothing terribly exciting, just a travel guide to my fair city for these people.

But watch out for the ice weasels around Kamloops.

Let another summer get by without climbing Mt. Jackson.

Visit Vancouver Island.

Couple ballgames in the new stadium.

Eat more apricots. And more Lambert cherries.

Drink more wine.

I think Ben H and I should just share a color.

Done!

Ari is right that moving further north to Victoria (B.C.) and the islands is an excellent idea. If you're up there anyway. Keep going.

As for the yelling and insulting, not so much.

And check out Tyax, one of the most beautiful and least crowded mountain lakes I've ever visited. The sound of the sea planes will lull you to sleep (which is helpful, because otherwise the black flies keep you awake -- bring deet).

Oh, one more thing: bring me. Please. My ancestral homeland beckons.

Israel isn't in Canada, Ari.

It could have been, Ben. But for the machinations of a few fanatical Zionists.

This is a nice park north of Vancouver.

That's on the road (the Sea to Sky Highway) from the city to Whistler. It's a nice rock, covered, any dry day, with climbers. There's also a beautiful waterfall right near there, not more than a ten minute hike from the road.

Sea to Sky Highway

Shannon Falls

Sorry: Shannon Falls. And with that, I think my surge of patriotism (provincialism?) has abated.

It's too late. You've already killed the thread.

Shannon Falls is near the town of Bella Coola, a pleasant-to-pronounce name which designates also a river, people and language. "Bella Coola" is also a homonym of the Italian for "nice ass," and when I brought that up in a review of a Native American-inspired restaurant named "Bella Coola," the proprietors were furious.

I thought Ogged had cast a pall with the news that he may leave the blog. I was just trying to turn the conversation to lovely drives, snow-capped mountains, and black flies.

99 to 97. Also: the thread lives!

I've been talking to a friend in British Columbia recently, and he's so far removed from anything that might be said here that it's amazing. The nature of the dialogue, what's taken to be clear and what's not; and what's worth talking about. Really helpful, actually.

Late and all, but a relevant question: How do I move to BC? I once was a tech guy, but they must be swarming with them by now. I fucking love temperate rainforests; I'll be a monk up there if there's any demand. I'm not an idiot, and I'm not that bothered by discomfort, but outside of IT I don't have much in the way of specialized skills. I'm a U.S. citizen, so I'm supposed to need some kind of cert to work up there, yes? I've got bupkis. Am I preemptively exiled?

I'm a U.S. citizen, so I'm supposed to need some kind of cert to work up there, yes?

You can also get the CDN equivalent of a green card by simply having a certain amount of money in assets--I think it's like $100k, or maybe $200. Not as much as you might expect.

Most of us probably don't have that, but if you're a former tech guy, you just might.

You have to kill a Canadian and take their place. B wasn't willing to do that, which is why she's back here now.

Go on lots of interesting walks with the dog.
Spend as much time in a tent as possible.
Think of a really good present for my mum's 60th birthday.
Get our room rearrangements and house repairs done.
Maybe have enough money left over for a new van.

102: Here's the skilled worker assessment test:

http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/immigrate/skilled/assess/index.asp

I scored comfortably high enough even at my advanced age.

Why must you crush my dreams, biohazard?

My summer plans:

1) Find, purchase, and move into new, larger house
2) Clean, sell, and pack current, beloved house
3) Find and complete some kind of perfect internship
4) Go to the beach at least once

106 -- Me too. I had no idea it was so easy.

My summer plans mostly involve working, but time will be made for:

1. A week in D.C. showing my kids the sights.
2. A week in Montana visiting family.

With respect to the first, any suggestions beyond the visiting the Smithsonian, Capitol etc. standards (which I intend to do) on what three hyperactive boys aged 9 - 14 would like to see in D.C. in the summer.

1. swim regularly with a group
2. build my collaborative practice
3. learn basic spanish

The Baltimore Aquarium is very close, Idealist.

110 - show them THAT article, and take them to the Flophouse.

I want to go to the beach in east hampton and bodysurf and get a great tan. also I want to visit my dad in sc with my kids and not have it devolve into some hideous emotional clusterfuck. and while I'm there I want to eat boiled crabs, and pulled pork sammiches, and my dad's fig preserves. and maybe a sack of krystals.

I'm adding Unfogged Richmond summer party when alamedia drives through Richmond.

110: They'd probably love the Spy Museum, though it's private and therefore expensive.

If they're not on your "etc." list, Jefferson, Lincoln, FDR, and Vietnam Veterans Memorial. All outdoor, all have things to climb on in addition to history & stuff. Jefferson & Lincoln are cool at night.

Paddleboat on the Tidal Basin.

Mount Vernon.

The Holocaust Memorial Museum.

The Zoo is good (if you don't object to zoos on principle).

National Geographic. If they haven't changed it in the last month or two, there's a great "Critter Cam" exhibit.

Check here and here.

Also what asilon said.

110: let 'em loose in the air and space museum and go enjoy the rest of your trip.

Thanks for the many cool suggestions!

Ben, what are you making with herbsaint? I've only ever encountered it in sazeracs. And while those are delicious, I've recently made the seasonal whiskey/gin transition and can't go back so soon.

Herbsaint, ice, cold water to taste.

You're a madman.

Not at all.

The same procedure can profitably be applied to ouzo.

Why herbsaint rather than Pernod or something, Ben?

I can't remember if Deep Ellum has a brandy sazerac on offer: I think they may.

The Herbsaint was $13. I can't remember what the place where I got it was charging for Pernod, but probably over $20.

Similarly one often sees Lillet for $20 or up, and Dubonnet for $13ish. Madness!

Ricard! I advocate Ricard-drinking.

Fair enough. Buy domestic!

Actually that makes a rye sazerac rather a bargain drink if you use the Jim Beam rye.

Speaking of Pernod, my favorite drink at The Pegu Club these days is the French Pearl. Tom should listen up, since it could involve gin and herbsaint-type program activities.

*2 ounces Plymouth Gin
* 3/4 ounce Lime Juice
* 3/4 ounce Simple Syrup
* 1/4 ounce Pernod
* 1 Mint Sprig
*Cubed Ice

Muddle, shake, strain.

Or Rittenhouse Rye.

So what's the difference between Ricard and Pernod? I know that I've had Ricard but can barely remember when.

What's the difference between Pernod and Ricard? Two anise liquers from the same company: are they really that different?

Taste-testing is called for.

I misused "liquer". I am filled with shame.

They're the same basic taste, but I find Ricard much smoother.

You also misspelled "liqueur".

Ricard was originally a competitor of Pernod's.

Some tool on egullet swears by Henri Bardouin pastis.

133.1: I know, right? I'm a mess.

I need to buy a bottle of Cynar.

135: OMG, rfts really is my long lost sister! Mmm . . . cynar. Shall I tell you all that kunara is ancient Greek for artichoke?

There was NO Cynar at our usual liquor-buying place. I hope that isn't a sign that the state, our monopoly distributor of alcohol, doesn't sell it at all. Buying booze in Ohio can be irksome.

Oh! I see that Cynar is a mere 33 proof and thus can be sold as wine in Ohio, meaning that need not be obtained from the state liquor board. Super!

137: Tell me about it. I once spent about 15 minutes baffled in the Topps as I was wholly unfamiliar with all the liquor brands they sold. Someone had to explain to me that these were special brands created to adhere to OH's law limiting the proof of booze that can be sold in supermarkets.

If you come across Mirto, the Sardinian myrtle liqueur, you should pick up a bottle of that too.

Also, because I know you've been wondering, the cherimoya was delicious.

We have a cherimoya awaiting us as soon as it ripens. I personally, am psyched.

$7.59 a pound: oh well!

Still $2.99 here, the same as the better apples. I think I will buy several more.

I can hardly swing a cat in this city without hitting this or that shrub-based Sardinian liqueur.

Thanks to this thread I really want to try the Sazerac 18-year-old rye. Thanks, this thread.

List for the summer:

1) read some books
2) play some videogames
3) go over to a local orchard to talk about apple trees
4) possibly dash off to Bele Chere with Rah
5) possibly get a new shed and put it together.

Otherwise I plan to stay out of the heat as much as is humanly possible.

A different thread here turned me on to the Sazerac thing. I have very fuzzy memories of really, really liking it.

Speaking of wine recommendations:

Contains Sulfites
"I'm on the Night Train, and I'm ready to crash and burn. I never learn." -A. Rose
BY DAN ATKINSON

Following the purchase of the name "Oregon Voice" from the State of Oregon, the Oregon Commentator Presents: Oregon Voice ran this parody of the real OV Wine Review, from their previous issue. This article was first published January 18, 1999.

The bottom shelf of the wine section is uncharted territory to the average student. Many regular and heavy drinkers of Beast Ice and Busch Lite turn up their noses at cheap wine. Why? Is there really a difference in quality between these fortified and sulfite-laden potions and the industrial suds so many of us drink?

The difference is psychological. The implication is that to kick back with a liter of Night Train is to be a wino. No one wants to be a wino. Winos are dirty and vulgar and lacking in teeth. There's death on their breath and evil in their eyes. Right? Maybe. Bur most of the winos I've met were decent people. One escorted me to an ATM at 3am, didn't mug me, and sold me a suede jacket. A couple others down by the river one night offered my friends and me a couple hours of life-affirming insights and dirty, dirty jokes. It was the least they could do after grabbing our whiskey bottle and slobbering all over it. If winos can be decent people, then their wines could be decent, too. With that in mind, I spent a little money, drank a lot of wine, and hammered out this wine review. All of the wines are from Albertson's; in parentheses are the quantity, price, and alcohol percentage.

I drank the following three bottles of wine in and around Corvallis during Civil War weekend-a smelly, dirty, brutal couple of days. By the end, the back of our U-Haul was plastered with mud, I had been arrested, and the Ducks had lost twice in one game.

My empty jug of Fairbanks "Port" (1.5 liters, $5.99, 18%) went through it with me, and it shows. The label's shredded; the once-clear glass is spattered with mud and blood (from our proud Publisher's shredded eyelid). This port is a study in contrasts. It opens fast, round and sweet-pixie stick, buttercup, whispers of Diet Rite. The finish, though, is a battle of green pennies and bug repellent, with lead paint darting around the edges. Fairly sulfury throughout.

Manischewitz's "Loganberry" (750 ml, $3.59, 10%) was a spendy concession to our Kosher readership. As the sun went down on the Friday before the game, I twisted off the top and started guzzling-I'm told I was celebrating Shabbat. Assertive and sweet-Sugar cane, overripe plums, a rumor of clover and a puppy's warm lick. Despite a touch of cedarwood, it is one dimensional and insulting. Even so, this sugar-water proved bearable during the dirtbag small-town high school playoff game we crashed. In full monsoon conditions, the Regis Rams stomped the Monroe Dragons into the midfield bog, 38-0. I was impressed, and I hope they went all the way this year.

Carlo Rossi's "Vin Rosi" (1.5 l, $3.99, 9.5%) I drank on an empty gut, just like a wino. Sadly, it wasn't strong enough to counteract the offensive lack of flavor. It had all the zest of a rhubarb pie sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, with a mulchy aftertaste that faded fast.

I concluded my research at home. Rounding up five bottom shelf picks, I had a formal wine tasting with fellow OC hacks Mike Atkinson and Brandon Hartley. We smelled and sipped each wine, taking notes on nose (smell), palette (taste) and finish (aftertaste). The following reviews summarize our notes and discussions.

Boone's Farm's "Sun Peak Peach" (750 ml, $2.99, 5%) billed itself as an "Apple Wine Product;" thus it is to wine what Easy Cheese is to cheddar. Damn near fell off the chair when I read the alcohol percentage. Nonetheless, since so many insist on calling it "wine," we had to sample it. It had a humid, moldy nose with notes of Yoplait, Daisy Dukes, Jojoba shampoo, and intimations of a northern Washington savannah. The palette opened yellow and sharp like a lady's slap, but soon sank into lulling Massengill freshness. There was no discernible peach flavor. It could go well with scrambled eggs. Notable for being the only "wine" to feature nutrition facts on the label, it packed about the same buzz as a fruit salad.

Thunderbird's "Serve Cold" (750 ml, $2.79, 17.5%), "The American Classic," was a complex and aggressive wine from the first sniff. "The stale farts of an aging Times Square hooker," noted Brandon, seeking vivid metaphors for the barbaric attack, "or the odor of vomit-soaked sewer grates." Mike found the nose urinary with a hint of Windex. To me, it was a quivering bouquet of Nyquil, rotten grapefruit, and horseradish. The odors were heavy like sun on a headache, like varnish on an open sore.

The flavor was hauntingly scolding, like Mom's cooking sherry. Quick and staccato, without subtlety, the flavors attacked: Vaseline, allegations of lime, Triaminic and bacon grease, a pile of bum yak on Burnside, a diesel train crashing into a baby duck, rancid Mountain Dew, a backalley dumpster's burnt caramel apple. My God, the horror! It was like waking up in a tire fire.

Each sip ended with a hydrogen peroxide sting that made you cringe and wonder if the next sip was worth it. When the glass was drained, the flavors cooled to a slow evil burn, like the lingering itch of jalapeqo diarrhea. But at last we had a buzz.

Richards "Triple Peach" (750ml, $2.69, 18%) was no picnic either-or was it? In my notes I have scrawled "Little Johnny at the church picnic puking Kool-Aid on your shoes." This was the last wine we tasted with our senses fully intact. Its fat, spiny nose rose boldly into our sinuses, burgeoning into a sweet yet horrible symphony. Peaches in formaldehyde. Napalm-charred ginger in the hills around Khe Sanh. Festering fruit salad. Methane. Urine from a rat with a thing for pear juice.

We had to quit sniffing and drink. All the sweetness of the nose vanished with a taste. Brief, delicate hints of sandlewood in the front soon too had gone, as the palette unrolled like the greasy bedroll of a backalley burnout. It was a sharp, tart, and cumbersome parade of demonic flavors and textures. Vinegar on Fruit Loops. Sweat licked from a southern belle's humid butt-crack. Sun-baked alkali. Hail falling through smog. The crotch of a CBA player's postgame drawers.

The worst thing about it, it wouldn't let go. It was a goblin, lodged in the throat, clinging to your tongue with barbed pinchers. In Mike's notes, written large, is a single word: "BILE."

MD (Mad Dog) 20/20 "Banana Red" (750 ml, $2.69, 13.5%) was just what we needed. The color of grapefruit juice, it is just barely more of a wine than Boone's, but it didn't matter. What a relief, what a candy-ass carnival ride it was after Thunderbird and Triple Peach.

This must be what the winos drink to relive the high points of their childhood. The nose comes on rich and festive-bubble gum, boardwalks, Banana runts. Gusts of cotton candy. But when one searches for subtlety-perhaps a rumor of Disney cartoons, maybe a funhouse undertone-it is absent. Brandon detected something sinister beneath the fun, suggesting the wine smelled "very like the liquid peppermint sedatives a pedophile pediatrician might give a toddler."

The apparently innocent fun continues on the palette. Sugar-free lollipops from the dentist, Christmas tree lots, Kool-Aid with a twist of Hubba Bubba. The flavors never really hit the mark, but instead seem false and shallow, like a swim in the 4-foot pool at Motel 6. "Boring," concluded Brandon. It was the last legible word he managed that night.

Night Train "Express" (750 ml, $2.79, 17.5) is the king of the bottom shelf, the best of the worst. It has been immortalized in song and literature, most memorably in Guns'n'Roses' classic "Nightrain:"

"I'm on the nightrain Bottoms up I'm on the nightrain Fill my cup"

We unanimously agreed it was the best swill of the night, and I think it's the best of the lot. By the time we got to it, though, we were legally unfit to taste. In my notes under 'nose,' I wrote "I can't smell a thing! Wait-in the distance! Primrose Hill!" I don't get it either. Brandon had degenerated to drawing cartoons. He left before finishing, and later reported waking in his own vomit. Only Mike was able to rationally pin down the nose, calling it "Essence of Presbyterian communion grape juice."

Like cheap brandy in a Taco Bell cup, the attack was tart enough to wring water from a stone. It soon evened out, becoming slow, smooth and long, with hints of mango, touches of sugar cane, and a stray sulfur note. A dry, bitter finish; wormwood softened by guava. Pretty damned good, we concluded as we split Brandon's share.

You can have a lot of fun swilling wino juice. But watch it. I was in a drunk tank in Northeast Portland last night, commiserating with some fellow Black Sabbath fans about the horrible twist of fate that had befallen us. Round about midnight, a pair of Sobriety-Impaired Native American Citizens were brought in and promptly fell on the floor. One was by the bathroom, and I damn near stepped on him. He raised his head about an inch to look at my knees.

"Um guh kill you," he said. That was the last straw. I was pissed. I started yelling at him about every single thing that had gone wrong with my birthday so far, including him and his putrid, snoring friend. After a couple minutes his closed his eyes and let loose a wave of loud, phlegmy laughter. On his breath, I smelled the unmistakable napalm odor of Richard's Triple Peach mingled with vomit and death.

I turned away, disgusted. I had been so wrong. What they say is true. Winos are filthy people. No one wants to be a wino.

Dan Atkinson, a junior majoring in Journalism, is Managing Editor of the Oregon Commentator

darn it. I was trying to link it, not post the whole thing!! sorry.

I wish I had some gherkins.

I don't see why Night Train Express gets all the attention, and Red Rocket is so neglected.

Still $2.99 here, the same as the better apples. I think I will buy several more.

Well, we bought it at the insanely good but insanely expensive gourmet outlet Sifu and mrh referenced yesterday, so I'm not sure how much more expensive the $7.59/lb cherimoya was than the apples there, anyway.

It was funny, though, Will.

It also reminded me of my dad, who drinks Rossi Vin Rosi and who had a ten gallon jug out in the garage last time I visited in which he was making wine. Which he forced me to taste. It was as bad as you'd expect. I wish I could remember what insane thing he told me he'd put in it--corn cobs?--in his typically cheerful dunderhead way: "you can just throw corn cobs in! It's great!"

An undergrad wrote that! It's lovely.

An appallingly expensive honey crisp apple purchased there last November (only because it was mostly past the honey crisp season, and I was so thrilled to see one) has ruined all other apples for me.

110 -- You might take a day trip up to Harpers Ferry (75-90 minutes drive). You've got your John Brown and lazy intertubing down one of the rivers. You can pop over to Antietam also.

Closer in, if the boys get tired of museums, take a hike on the Billy Goat Trail on the C&O Canal.

There's a place on the VA side of the Potomac, between the Key and AmLegion bridges, where you can climb up the rocks, and find a small natural pool. Depending on the weather, it's big enough for kids to splash around in, and the whole secret swimming hole thing. You need kayaks or a canoe to get there from DC, not that that isn't 75% of the fun right there.

And innertubing as well!

All boats and boating devices in 155 are readily available for rent.

re: 155-57

Thanks! These sound like excellent things to do.

Not sure if it's your thing but besides the history stuff, Harper's Ferry has rafting and tubing.

The Billy Goat Trail is pretty but be sure to bring LOTS of water (we didn't and got dehydrated). Also, it's got a lot of rock scrambling instead of just straight up hiking, which can be either a plus or minus depending on your preferences.

I guess I'm going to NYC in early August. The wife is going to join the big circumnavigation of Manhattan by kayak thing. During which I'll wander around on foot. Can one rollerblade along the Hudson?

Winos are filthy people. No one wants to be a wino. And yet.

I'll second the Spy Museum. I thought it was not that great (a bit boring in fact) but the kids I was with ate it up.

If the kids are awed by awesome buildings, I'd say visit the Episcopal Cathedral. I have one young niece who insists on seeing it each time she is in DC.

Can one rollerblade along the Hudson?

You can rollerblade most of the way along both the Hudson and the East River below 125th Street. I'm not sure how things are further up (further up is still a considerable part of the island, of course)

Seconding 162.2, this stonecarver's site devoted to some of the cathedral's gargoyles and grotesques might help get the kids psyched up.

||

Getcher hot, wet Alberto Gonzales Shadenfreude right here.

To the question, "How corrupt and stupid do you have to be before your connections to power are unhelpful?" the answer "Alberto Gonzales" has been provided, at least for the nonce.

|>

165: that article is fantastically poorly written.

Back on track, cherimoya is only $3/lb at the Hollywood farmer's market. Another reason to come back to L.A., Tweety Ghoti.

From the article in 165:

said the lawyer, who asked his name not be used because the situation being described was uncomfortable for Mr. Gonzales.

Poorly written, perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless.

I'm sorry to see my alma mater invited him to speak, though.

This summer and indeed later this spring, I plan to (a) complete and send off two articles, and, more importantly, (b) consume a vast quantity of fresh, locally grown vegetables. In anticipation of the actual fresh vegetables soon but not yet available for sale at our farmer's market, I have ordered more of my favorite reusable shopping bags, plus a really cool collapsable shopping basket.

Speaking of locally-grown vegetables, I would really like it if a store near me started stocking garlic shoots. Actually I think I saw some at Bi-Rite, which isn't that far, but they were in scallionalike form, and I swear that once in 2003 I saw some that were, in shape and length, similar to a smoother, shinier chinese long bean, but tasted of garlic. Those are what I really want. Also.

Ben, are you thinking of ramps?

170: RFTS, do you have a link?

I don't think so, but ramps also seem interesting.

Also:

1) Learn how to can/preserve veggies, and do so.
2) Learn how to can/preserve jams/jellies, etc.
3) Learn how to pickle things, do so.
4) Help a friend learn how to distill various alcoholic goodies
5) Grill lots of good meat
6) Be able to run 3 miles by the end of the summer
7) Figure out a way to make the Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day algorithm work

Yeah, ramps are wild leeks and garlic greens are garlic greens. Both rule. Ramp pesto is really good.

Why yes! The favorite bags -- which are seriously so great, sized to fit those bagging frames at supermarket checkouts, very easy to stuff into their little stuff sacks, small enough in their stuffed form to toss into any handy corner of your life, lightweight and very strong -- are here. The nifty shopping basket is here.

Ok, you see these fellows? Not scallion-like; beanish. Quite possibly the scape (scroll down to section headed "Varieties"). That is what I lust after, in my heart of hearts. That and the girl in the white summer dress sitting with an incredibly toolish-looking guy about seven feet from me.

Someone else nearby just said something about "German philosophy and lit". I wonder if I should ostentatiously pick up the Novalis on the table.

Yum yum yum! There are nascent flowers at the top!

That and the girl in the white summer dress sitting with an incredibly toolish-looking guy about seven feet from me.

You're alright, Wolfie.

I mean, unforgivably indiscreet, but otherwise alright.

I have all the fancy equipment for jam-making (except for an air conditioner -- it gets HOT making jam in the summer): a copper jam pot, thermometer, skimmer, excellent wide-mouth funnel, etc. It makes it really pleasant to do, though you can obviously use other pots and pans just fine. Also my saintly mother made me a few jars of apple jelly to use as natural pectin. I recommend Les Confitures as a preserves cookbook, though most of us mere mortals will fail to live up to the exquisite standard of the recipes, which tend to call for things like blemishless Alsatian plums picked before the dew is dry.

In other news, I need to GIVE AWAY more of my jam so that I feel justified in making more this year.

Is the "-sc-" in "nasco" a sign that it is of my favorite kind of verb? I bet!

Yes, the scape! Those are awesome, if somewhat overpoweringly garlicy. You need to be wiling to commit to unabashedly reeking of garlic for an extended period of time if you want a meal featuring scapes.

178: Yes! That is what they are called -- garlic scapes! Also yummy pesto! With scrambled eggs!

(I am so ready for there to be good produce again. But miles to go before I sleep eat a decent fucking tomato.)

I'm pretty sure the toolish-looking guy isn't you, ogged.

Ok, you see these fellows? Not scallion-like; beanish.

Yeah, those look like scapes to me. Mm.

In other news, I need to GIVE AWAY more of my jam so that I feel justified in making more this year.

I'll send you my address.

They seem to be drinking Sancerre. (NB I am not a creep, honest.) Good for them.

Go for it.

Woo!

184: yes

I wish I were outside, drinking sancerres. My summer goals are much like FoxyTail's. I like to play Provence in the backyard -- drink Tempier, eat many veggies, but tomatoes in particular, nibble cheese. I'm half a step from setting up the pétanque.

Garlic scapes I tend to let languish, forgotten. Unforgivably no doubt. Pesto, huh? Okay.

Sancerre is the only sort of wine I have ever been able to remember anything about, including the fact that I like it.

They seem to be drinking Sancerre. (NB I am not a creep, honest.) Good for them.

Red or white? Red would earn them bonus points.

White.

Whatever. Any poseur can drink white Sancerre.

194: A less-than-one-minute swim in a pot of boiling water. A whirl in a blender with salt and oil and some lemon zest. Toss with pasta or serve with scrambled eggs. Yummy.

Any poseur can. But these poseurs did.

199: Ah, thanks.

If it's ramps not scapes, then that swim is 5 seconds, tops.

Makes sense. It's scapes that I get from the farm.

You put any basil or nuts in that, oud?

Oops, sorry, Mes Confitures.

204: Nope. That is why I am not sure it is really pesto. But, you, it is a paste.

"It may not be pesto, but dammit it's paste" could be the title of a CW novelty song.

To the question, "How corrupt and stupid do you have to be before your connections to power are unhelpful?" the answer "Alberto Gonzales" has been provided, at least for the nonce.

In the very same article, though, we find out the very nadir of potential jobs that right-wing nepotism can get you. Apparently Alberto Gonzales has a spokesman. And that spokesman is Robert Bork's son.

1. Revise and re-submit the same fucking paper from last summer.

2. Chop the dissertation up into papers and submit them.

3. Understand the parts of the dissertation that I never quite understood the first time through. (Me: "Advisor, I don't really get this part." Him: "Yes you do. No one does. Don't worry.")

4. Tube the river behind our house on random weekday evenings, after Jammies gets home from work.

5. Go to the Grand Canyon.

209: Suddenly I understand the secret of math. The door is open for you, if you only go through it! But if you stand there and think, you are lost. If I'd only known this in 1965 I wouldn't have gotten that D.

209.4: Tubing is really underrated. A blast.

Resolved: this summer, river.

When I was a kid, my brother lived on the Russian River, and we could tube past the Bohemian Grove if we wanted. That wasn't as amusing to me then as now.

Man, the last time I went tubing I whooped! And shouted. Involuntarily and repeatedly! Cool. These are good thoughts.

ramps also seem interesting

They grow wild all over the state. I associate the smell of chopped ramp stalks with lawn mowing as much as I do the smell of fresh-cut grass.

If all goes according to plan then I will, over the course of the next year, acquire grafts from some heirloom apple trees once planted by an ancestor; they are now untended but productive on federal land. It is my deepest wish that in the next ten years I will turn down my mother's homemade apple jelly in favor of making my own.

Rah and I are seriously planning a clandestine hike to harvest graft-worthy shoots from these trees. I am extremely excited by this.

It is my deepest wish that in the next ten years I will turn down my mother's homemade apple jelly in favor of making my own.

Your long-awaited revenge is savage indeed.

215: Actually a very complicated suicide. She's liable to kill me on the spot.

It sounds like the end of the last act of a Tennessee Williams or Eugene O'Neill play. "No, thank you, mother. Now..... I make my own jelly!" [Exit left to the sound of trumpets]

I've canoed on the Russian River and camped at Samuel P. Taylor state park. I don't remember the Bohemian Grove, but I suspect I must have known about it.

For about a year after my mother died we still had her jelly and fruitcake and frozen vegetables to eat now and then.

You made jelly out of your dead mother?

Waste not, want not.

Wouldn't be kosher, B.

155: Billy Goat Trail is actually a pretty excellent idea for energetic kids. I was going to suggest Great Falls, along the C&O canal - the Billy Goat trail is right next to that, so you can cover both in one trip.

In the middle of the Billy Goat Trail there is a beach on the river that you aren't supposed to swim at, but people do. On a hot day, its friggin' awesome.

Back to the article, which I've finally read:

Locklin would be furious if he knew we were awake and having fun without him.

Hilarious and true sentence.

i wanted to write my travel account, there are no other suitable threads
so, i'm back from my trip to California, Nevada, Arizona--San Diego, Las Vegas, Grand Canyon!
presented at the meeting, went to LA by train, a delightful ride, reading the Counterfeiters simultaneously listening to the contents of my ipod, miscellaneous music, my music, jpop, classical pieces, various unfogged mixes, Bunin, Gumilev, Akhmatova voices reading their poems, and looking at the ocean through the dirty window
i'm glad that i may be ready to read more serious literature in English without translation, thanks, Unfogged, for the training
met my friend in LA, we were talking, talking, talking - so great to talk in my language
Las Vegas was ok, lights and all, sunrise on the Hoover dam, what a great human accomplishment then Grand Canyon
unfortunately i found that i'm afraid of heights, really, like to the point of almost fainting, skywalk
was great, but i really never liked roller coasters
SF, ate blueberry icecream looking at the beach, a summer sunset looking at the Bay Bridge
one week went so quickly
i found i don't eat, don't do internets, don't sleep much during travel, i wish i could travel more
this summer i hope i'll go home, if can't then my summer is already over, will be just working i suppose