Give me meth, or give me cupcakes!

 

OR

1:30 am on a Friday night (well, Saturday morning), you are awoken to the sounds of electric mixers, metal bowls banging around, rapid speech and maniacal laughter.  So, is it A) methamphetamine addicts have broken into your kitchen and are making a late night batch of crank, or B) teenagers have decided 1:30 am is the perfect time to make red velvet cupcakes?

Scotch Snobs

*

Those who know me even casually, know that I like whiskey (or "whisky").  It's good stuff.  My favorite is bourbon, but I also enjoy Irish whiskey and Scotch whisky as well.  People who don't like whiskey will say it's nasty, rough, and burns like a mouthful of gasoline.  Well, poor quality whiskey can, in fact, taste like that.  But the good stuff, the stuff I enjoy, will have (in various combinations) honey, vanilla, maple, oak, dried fruit, smoke, sherry and floral qualities to it.  It's seriously good.  However, this brings me to the Scotch snob crowd...

A Scotch snob will tell you if it tastes good, it's shit.  Only the overly peated, medicinal smoke bombs that would make a wild boar gag are the Scotches worth your time.  Only these vile whiskies are "complex" (complex is whiskey snob code for foul tasting) enough for a Scotch snob's time.  Here's a typical Scotch snob whiskey review of something they would find top notch:

Nose: smells like baby vomit...but worse.  Think of a baby eating an entire box of adhesive tape along with a couple of Band Aids, and then puked it up on your collar.  Once you get through the vomity introduction, it's followed by hints of summer road tar, and sulfur...like Satan farted in your car with the windows rolled up.  Some boiled cabbage comes through and some smoke.  But not wood smoke, more like if an emergency road flare had an orgy with gunpowder, burning foam sofa cushions, and overheated disc brakes...and then had a bastard love child with all of these qualities.  Some sweet vanilla comes through, but then this is immediately shat upon by wave after wave of iodine, rotting oleander, and Vicks VapoRub.  The VapoRub is followed by the smell of a glue factory.  

It's complex and amazing.  I give the nose an A+.  (Warning: after one whiff of this my olfactory senses quit working for a week...but totally worth it)

Palate: now here's where it gets interesting.  More smoke.  Like an electrical fire and burnt insulation.  Some more rotten egg and sulfur...as if Godzilla sodomized a volcano and then immediately wiped his dick into my glass.  A little charcoal and bitter adhesive...reminiscent of being locked in a bank vault with a bandaged hooker on a summers day, and snorting lines of powdered residue taken from your barbecue grill off of the small of her back as she is positioned on all fours and lighting a crack pipe with a blow torch.  Wood glue. Model airplane glue. Super glue...hot lead solder...followed by more glue. This is followed by .0003 seconds of vanilla, oak, and wild honey, and this is mercifully strangled with a strippers bra and replaced by ancient mariners rope and disinfectant.  Some vegetal quality...spoiled sauerkraut...maybe some broccoli and asparagus.  Sweet dung...and finally isopropyl rubbing alcohol.  

It's complex and amazing.  I give it an A. 

Finish: long.  Slow.  Like slowly rotting desert roadkill left in the sun in springtime.  Instantly induces tinnitus and a short term bout of nonspecific urethritis.  Hot and tortuous...like a garbage landfill fire on the back of my tongue.  More charcoal and smoke...burning used tires and a dirty oven on the self clean cycle.  Momentary blindness in my left eye followed by overtones of ipecac.  Pine tar.  Cough syrup.  Dirty diapers and curry.  More curry.  Some kimchi...followed by more kimchi...Thai curry...and the baby vomit makes another appearance.  A little maple, which is immediately gunned down by a cigarette smoking, one eyed Hungarian with athletes foot, who then buries it in a swamp.  This is followed by clouds iodine, wound cleanser, the atmosphere of Venus, dirty crotch, and bug repellant.  

It's complex and amazing.  I give it an A.  

To sum up, this is mind blowing Scotch.  Highly recommended.   

If you look up a review by a whisky snob on something like Laphroaig, you'll see what I mean.

Now, here's the same review by a Scotch snob on something I'd enjoy (i.e. a Speyside, Highlands, or a high end blend*):

Nose: vanilla. Dried fruit. Wild honey. Some smoke...hints of bacon frying in the pan on a winters day. Oak.  Sherry. Compote.  Christmas spices.  Baked banana bread.  Creme brulee.  Wild flowers.  The warm skin of a beautiful woman as she lays next to you.  

It's ok, but rather dull and uninspired.  Could use more complexity.  I give it a C. (Side note: my inoperable brain tumor suddenly disappeared as I drank this....but this doesn't replace this whisky's need for more complexity)  

Palate: mana of the gods.  More vanilla, oak, mild flavorful smoke, heather, wild honey, and sherry.  Feels like a super model was massaging the back of my tongue.  Fresh baked bread, a spreading warmth like a holiday fireplace filled with flavorful oak, and some bourbon sweetness infused from the toasted cask.  Flavored lip gloss from the girl you first kissed at 14 and havent forgotten 30 years later, and hints of a Michelin starred restaurant.  Imported Swiss chocolate.  Baked Alaska surrounded by bread pudding, and finished with New York style cheesecake and wet dreams.

It's ok, but rather dull and uninspired.  Could use more complexity.  I give it a C.

Finish: I'm not sure.  It started off with the lilting sounds of angels singing and the smoothness of a gently flowing mountain stream.  Some delightful smokey warmth, and spontaneous orgasm.  Warm holiday spices and more of that vanilla and wild honey.  I then passed out from sheer bliss and cannot remember the rest of the experience.  

It's ok, but rather dull and uninspired.  Could use more complexity.  I give it a C.  

The whole experience with this dram is alright if you're looking for a Scotch that's drinkable, has good flavor, is smooth and brings you pleasure...but I cannot recommend it.  Look for something a bit more complex...and has hint's of Satan's flatulence.  In fact, there's an Islay single malt called "Satan's Wind" that has this very quality, and I highly recommend it...especially since it's a bargain at $250 a bottle.    

Anyways, what I'm alluding to here is that there are some delicious whiskies out there, and if the stuff you tried based on the review of some so-called expert tasted like shit...it probably did.  Ask your non-self aggrandizing friends who enjoy whiskey (and who also don't endlessly drone on about it...a good sign they're NOT Scotch snobs) for a recommendation.  Remember, it's important they're not uppity douchebags...otherwise they'll steer you to the "Satan's Wind" brand.  You might be surprised at what you find...and you may actually like it.      

* How to tell if you're one of the dreaded douche bags I just described above, i.e., a single malt Scotch snob:

1) You looked at the picture of the whiskey with ice in it and immediately thought: Ice???? ICE???  Ice lowers the temp and doesn't allow the full presentation, flavor and nose of the whiskey.  Only a charlatan, a bumpkin, or AN AMERICAN adds ice!!!!  You're missing out on the cabbage and baby vomit!!!!  

(Well, screw you.  I like my drinks ice cold and the ice melts and adds a little water to the whiskey, rounding its flavors, enhancing the wood and vanilla, and takes off rough edges...but that's just me.  Only the Scotch snob tries to tell another how to enjoy their drink)

2) You saw the word "blend" and scoffed, because the only Scotch worth drinking is single malt Scotch.  

(Actually, there are some amazing blends out there, some as good or better than overpriced single malts, and I've got a bottle of Chivas 18yr old to prove it.  In fact, the single malt craze is the result of a rather successful marketing strategy from years back, as it used to be thought most single malts were too rough for most palates.  Back in the day, most Scotches WERE BLENDS.  There is no shame in enjoying something easy to find like Johnny Walker black label.  It tastes good...and isn't that the point?  In fact, Compass Box is a highly regarded, craft style Scotch producer who embraces blends and makes nothing but blends...and is quickly reshaping the attitude towards blends with their highly rated offerings) 

Necessity

How to tell you're a grown ass man: all of your thermal travel mugs are in the dishwasher, and rather than go without coffee, you take one of your daughter's thermal mugs to work instead.  After all, going to work without coffee is NOT AN OPTION, and the thought of a work day filled with snarky, coworker barbs is NOTHING compared to a work day without coffee (i.e. my preferred caffeine* delivery system).

*Caffeine: an amazing legal stimulant that allows people to get to work/school on time, keeps the digestive tract humming along, is a major headache antagonist, allows one to find the upside to their very existence, encourages conversations with coworkers/classmates/peers you would normally find intolerable, gently prevents sleep without all those nasty murderous rages and demonic hallucinations associated with other stimulants, and is the major cog that drives the Earth's economic engine.  

Unintended Humor

So, this picture is being circulated by your usual bunch of mouth breathing, Fox News echo chamber "this is where every thought in my head originates from" listening, right wing ideologues who are trying to make, I'm guessing, a rather crude and (if you knew the truth about Ronald "Bel Air" Reagan and George "prep school Yale Harvard business school" Bush) uproariously misguided and ill informed point that is, as usual with most Repugnicon thoughts, not based on anything resembling reality (apologies for the run-on sentence btw...).  Anyways, here's the pic:

Needless to say, when I saw this, I had very different ideas go through my head:

Reagan (talking to Frank Sinatra who is just out of frame and smoking a cigarette): ""Holy shit...it's been a while. Man, I forgot just how fucking messy it was cutting up and burying a dead hooker."

Bush (silently to himself): "I cannot believe Cheney is making me do all his landscaping."
Cheney (yelling from a distance): "Quit your lollygagging you Harvard pussy and finish removing that dead willow tree!!!"
Bush (yelling back petulantly): "Only dead willow around here is between your legs old man!!!"
Cheney (snarling): "What did you say???"
Bush: "Nothing sir!!!"

Obama (silently to himself the whole time): "Jesus, this is degrading.
(with each swing of the pick ax) Why...in...the...fuck...did...I...let...Biden...talk...me...into...this?
And what's with the two fuckers standing around watching me work? Your arms broken? Grab a shovel and dig motherfucker!"

The Potato

Have you ever wondered about the magic of the potato?  Yeah, me either.  Until tonight...and only after an ice cold lager and a large Manhattan.  No wonder the Irish (my people...well, Scots-Irish...close enough) love it so.  For instance, if you have a potato (or, in my case, a huge assed bag of them from Costco), and left overs, you have a meal.  You can pair them with ANYTHING, or, like in my case, throw all your leftovers into a pan with some diced potato and make a hash...which is good for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.  If you're lazy like me, it's good for all three as you can make a ginormous portion, and then eat it all day long (in the case of tonight, I've also magically paired it with bourbon AND beer.  Happy Valentines Day!).  It's like the chameleon super food.

Other uses for the potato besides caloric consumption (admittedly, not all inclusive):


-booze

-a weapon

-a crafty device for painting/designing

-a means of broken light bulb removal

-a rudimentary source of electrical power

-a facial (heh...heh...the word "facial" makes me chuckle EVERY time I hear it/see it typed.  Yeah, I'm juvenile.  So?  Sue me).

...and on and on.

I'm sure there's also a plethora of perverse, other "non-nutritional acts" act's you could commit with one, but I cannot say I'm completely familiar with what that might be, but, hey, let your imagination run wild (bourbon...specifically "Makers Mark" helps, btw).

Alrighty, perhaps not the most informative post ever written, but, sometimes you get the strangest compulsion to share things.  Mission accomplished.

Now, back to my Kentucky fire water...

Kai the hitchhiker and other odds and ends...

So, in case you were not aware, I live in Fresno, CA.  I have lived all over the state, and within two years, I expect to be moving again (as soon as the youngest is out of school...the reasons will be stated down below), but for now, here I reside.  I say this because the most amazing story ever told happened to occur right here in my home town.  It involves an ax wielding hitchhiker named Kai, a homicidal, racist, would be murderer with delusions of being the Son of God, a melee between a giant of a man and two women, and a motor vehicle used as an attempted murder weapon.  Here, explaining it all much better than I ever could, is Stephen Colbert:

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive

(Also, the link in case video doesn't play:
http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/423566/february-05-2013/california-s-heroic-hitchhiker)

All I can say here is simply this: I am now tempted to pick up hitchhikers as I drive around the Valley, for who knows what adventures they may bring with their vagabond ways?  Of course, I'm going to skip the part about imagining I'm Jesus, as I don't have the time to grow a beard, and let's be honest, nobody likes a martyr.

So, what else is going on with me you certainly have NOT wondered?  Allergies.  I know what you're thinking..."a little runny nose, a sneeze...I thought you said you couldn't stomach martyrs?  Quit your whining."  Well, yes, if that's all it was, I would agree.  But, for me, it is something quite different.  It is allergies on steroids, HGH, deer antler spray, and whatever the fuck Lance Armstrong injected into his (one ball only) nut-sack all those years.  And what sort of symptoms could these sort of allergies bring on?  Well...bouts of hives that last for weeks...and intestinal pain and vomiting that lasts for hours on end.  "What?  Intestinal pain and vomiting?  Surely that cannot be right..."  Well, it CAN happen, does happen, and I had no idea either.  There's a thing called an intestinal angioedema that can occur (it's rare...lucky me) that is inflammation of the intestinal tract as a result of an allergic reaction.  Basically, the hives and inflammation that can occur externally, can also occur internally to your intestines.  It results in EXCRUCIATING pain and, if I do say so myself, rather spectacular, world class, non-stop vomiting.  This happened to me four different times over the last eight months before it was properly diagnosed.  Several trips to the ER, an upper GI procedure, an ultrasound, etc. etc.  Finally, a diagnosis.  It's essentially an auto-immune disorder, but it can be dealt with and somewhat controlled.  The secret is to take what would appear to be a toxic level of antihistamines.  My last attack I drank half a bottle of liquid Benadryl and poof....stomach pain subsided (unfortunately, the hives are rather more stubborn).  Anyways, apparently, genetically, I'm allergic to just about everything, and my hyper-vigilant immune system has a tendency to go haywire.  Upside is that people with this condition tend to have very low rates of certain cancers because the out of control immune response also attacks precancerous cells, so there is a mild upside (silver linings and all that).  And, other than the unfortunate side effects of this disorder, I rarely get sick.  So now to go with my asthma inhalers, acid reflux pills, weekly allergy shots, steroid nasal sprays, and nasal irrigation regimin, I'm now taking a combination of daily antihistamine pills.  I have so many meds, I feel like the old man with the Monday through Friday pill box who spends all his free time socializing at the pharmacy (I'm there so often the pharmacists all know me personally now).  This condition is also the reason I'll be moving in the future (as I mentioned above), as the Valley is the absolute WORST place you can live if you have allergies of any sort.  I had that skin prick test done...the one where they stick your back with dozens of needles filled with allergens...and the result was I'm allergic to every substance found in the Central Valley.  Actual conversation I had with my allergist: Me-"So, doc, what am I allergic to?"  Doctor-"Everything".  Another actual quote from my doctor: "Holy cow...you produce A LOT of histamine."  What was disconcerting about this is that it was uttered by an ALLERGIST, who deals on a daily basis with people with allergies...and he was STILL IMPRESSED.  Anyways, he jokingly said "Have you considered moving?" and  I'm thinking something coastal and further north of my current location would be beneficial for my general well being (not to mention culturally, aesthetically, and politically more in line with my general world view as well). 

So, it's been months since I've felt "normal", but I'm finally getting back to somewhat feeling like my old self (whatever that means), and am now able to get back to the gym (I was in seriously good shape until all this derailed me...so now begins the arduous task of reclaiming that level of fitness).  The upside to all of this misery is I think it's good for my music as my last composition (see previous post), turned out really well and is one of, it not my absolute, favorites (and now you know why I called it "Histamine"...it's the substance my body produces waaaaaaay too much of and the root of my issues.  See?  Every song has a story).

Namaste.

   

New Song "Histamine"

Pretty much an amalgamation of everything thats ever influenced me…and if I do say so myself, it also has a little, simple guitar riff about a minute into the song (an instrumental) that is pretty addictive.  I called it “Histamine” because I’m on a boatload of meds dealing with that very substance, which has caused me a fair amount of misery the last seven months.  But, I think the psychedelic effect of the Rx I’ve been issued has been good for my art.  So, the suffering hasn’t been in vain…hope you like it. As far as the utter misery of what I've been dealing with for over half a year...that is the subject of another post.  In the meantime, enjoy my little stylistic adventure here...I wrote it to be kind of a smorgasbord of styles that appeal to me, and I thought it gave it something of a trippy, dreamy vibe....