November 12, 2012 § 1 Comment
As of today, I’m back. Last week, I had a number of people ask me what ever became of this blog. While chatting with the wife about it over the weekend, she came up with an idea: you know, just don’t try to post as often.
Before, I was trying to post three times a week. Now, I’m going to post once a month. Actually, twice. But one of the posts is going to be directing readers to Hobart, an online magazine where I’m currently writing a monthly bourbon column. Some months, I might get frisky and post an extra restaurant review or something, but generally, you can count on at least 2 posts a month here.
So, as the above picture suggests, this return post is about this month’s column at Hobart, wherein I review Dickel No. 12, and have something of a nihlist breakdown. Here’s an excerpt:
This month’s column was going to be about quitting my last job, but what’s the point. It was mostly uninteresting anyway. Everyone was happy for me and I put in my final two weeks without mess or fuss. And let’s face it, that column was likely going to devolve into masturbatory backslapping and pithy advice about working hard and not expecting breaks and all that rot and rubbish.
Tonight, I spent three hours with friends discussing whether we wanted to continue making sandwiches for the Indy poor. Afterwards, I was involved in an argument about whether people from our church should be scolded for parking in spots not actually designated for parking.
In 100 years, the likelihood of either of these conversations being important is slim to nil. The world feels so big and tired and broken.
June 14, 2012 § 1 Comment
As though I need an excuse to drink bourbon, today is National Bourbon Day, a day to commemorate the birth of that sweet, sweet nectar of the gods. Evidently that happened today way back in 1789 (or so The Awl says). I’m not quite sure how accurate that is. This overly official and touristy looking site says they’ve been making it since 1776.
I’m sure there’re plenty of urban legends about when the bung was popped (LOL) from that first glorious barrel in Uncle Eli’s hay barn, but you know what? After a few shots of the goodness, I’m going to have no fucks to give. What matters is that it exists.
And, as my Internet buddy Daniel McCord says, “It’s a fucking bourbon. Drink it!”