Highlights and Low-Lifes, or All That's Right With What's Left. Social Zymurgy; the culture of beer presents The Year's Best!

"We all know that only poets and writers can save the world. We have left it in the hands of others for too long." - Doc

This is something of a tradition here at Social Zymurgy, the culture of beer. At the beginning of the New Year, we do a brief recap of the best from the previous twelve months. You get the steak without the gristle. The binge without the hangover. The worldwide cruise without all the sea sickness. In short, I've cut the fluff and kept the good stuff. This will be a series for the next week so that I can catch up on your blog. Enjoy!

Ideas for blog writers who can't think of any:

"For Those Engaged In National Blog Posting Month"

Tales of caution:

A story from my sordid young adulthood: "The Night I Took Up Flying"

A purely visual joke which I don't do very often: "When I die, I would like to die peacefully, in my sleep like my grandfather. Not screaming in terror like his passengers."

Have you ever had a few beers and done something silly? "The Flare Gun"

It is only a matter of time: "Why The Aliens Would Want To Kidnap Me And What Should Be Done When This Happens"

This too is simply a matter of time: "My Living Will or What To Do When The Coma Comes"

Helpful advice for when the excrement hits the turbine: "The Five Things You Didn't Know You Needed In A Disaster"

Thanks for joining me on a trip down amnesia lane. Swing by tomorrow for more tales from your favorite dumb white country boy!

Cheers,
Doc

When I die, I would like to go peacefully, in my sleep, like my grandfather. Not screaming in terror like his passengers.

Could have been worse. He could have spilled his beer.

Doc

The Saint Dismas Chip

**Editor's Note** What follows is a short story I've had on the back-burner for some time, but now seems like a good time to publish it as I have a buddy of mine doing a short vacation on the county's dime and I think that this might cheer him up a little bit. Also, my buddy Cormac Brown wrote a short story and dedicated it to me and I feel obliged to return the favor. This story is much more along the lines of the excellent crime fiction that he writes, as it involves two theives. I hope you enjoy it!**

"More coffee, sugar?" the pretty waitress asked.

"Sure Debra. Fill it up," Bill said as he slid his cup over with his huge hand. She pours the coffee and walks away with a gate that would make any grown man utter damn under his breathe.

"Sorry I haven't kept in touch Bill, but I didn't want to screw up your parole by sending you letters from another con," the rat-faced little man across the table said.

"It's alright Tony. I know you and me are square. There wasn't anything you could have written that would have made my stay in the joint any more pleasent anyway. I just figured that you were busy making ends meet and chasing girls. I'm sure the way I pictured you was better than what was really goin' on, but no matter. I'm just glad you came to see me this evening."

"Now Bill," Tony leaned forward over his BLT and spoke a little more softly, "I know you ain't been out long but I've got a honey of a job for us. I know you could use some money 'cause workin' in that bookstore can't be bringin' in much dough. Second story, one watchman pushin' eighty, and at least eighteen grand when we're done. It'd take about an hour..."

"Not interested," Bill said flatly.

"What? You have got to be fuc-" Tony's eyes opened wide.

"No, I ain't kidding. I can't do it. I just can't." Bill dismissed the idea with a wave of his large hand.

"Bill, I know it's been a while and I know the joint makes you do funny things, but you are the greatist thief I've ever seen! You got more skill in your little finger than most guys get in a fuckin' life time. Don't throw your effin' gift away man. You could have nine grand for an hours work. I'm tellin' ya, this job is a honey!" Tony implored.

Bill sighed. "You ain't hearing me Tony. I CAN'T. Look," Bill swiveled his huge frame in the diner booth and pulled at his collar. "You see this little scar on the back of my neck? The one right here at the edge of my hairline?"

"Yeah, so what?" Tony said.

"Didn't it strike you funny that I got parole so early?" Bill asked.

"I just figured you was good, kept yer nose clean and played the game. I've seen it done before..." Tony trailed off.

"Not amount of playing the game would have gotten me out this soon," Bill explained, "I did something in the joint-"

"Whoa! You ain't got to explain anything to me-" Tony started.

"Naw, nothing like that man. Nothing like that. I volunteered for an experimental program for cons. The chaplain put in a good word for me, and they took me and two other guys. We went to the infirmary for an afternoon, they knocked us out and we woke up with a bandage on the back of our necks. No pain, no blood, no nothing. Sure, I had a wicked bad headache for a week, but that was it."

"So what'd they do?" Tony was intrigued.

"They put a chip in me. They called it the Saint Dismas chip. Do you know who that is?"

"No, I didn't spend much time in church. Didn't see the point really." Tony admitted.

"Dismas was a thief," Bill explained, "They put him on the cross next to Jesus. Now there were two thieves up there with Jesus and one, I forget his name, made fun of Jesus for being the 'King of Kings' and still having to die with a couple of thieves. Dismas tells him to shut the fuck up and begs for the the Lord's forgiveness and Christ forgives him of his sins and tells Dismas that he will sit at his right hand in heaven."

"Makes for a good bed time story," Tony sneered.

"It ain't just a story," Bill's voice takes on a serious edge. Tony watches as Bill's hands clutch his coffee cup hard enough to make his knuckles show white. Tony has seen those hands strangle the life out of more than one person. He has seen them beat faces to a bloody pulp and cripple big men in their prime. "Sorry Bill," is all he can mutter.

"So what's this chip do? Does it make you lose your hard on or something?" Tony asks.

"No. I just don't want to be the kind of guy I was before." Bill said. Tony screws up his face in a look of confusion. Bill sees his look and thinks a moment. "Think of it like this: you sit down to Thanksgiving dinner and you eat all the food you want until you can't eat any more. Then a switch goes on in your brain and you know you are full. You are ready to get up from the table and go watch some football on TV and maybe take a nap. You just don't want any more. You are content." Tony nods a little as if he gets it, sort of. "The food is all the jobs I've pulled, all the people I've ruined, all the shit I've done. I just can't do that kind of stuff anymore. I'm full. I'm content."

Tony runs this through his mind for five minutes and the two of them fall silent. Tony pokes at his fries but doesn't eat any as this is processing. Bill empties his coffee cup and no sooner does it rest on the saucer than Debra, the pretty waitress, is at his elbow filling it up. "Bill," she says softly, "I gotta work 'til ten, but do you think you could walk me home? It's Friday and all the freaks seem to be out by then. I know it is a lot to ask but-"

Bill cuts her off, "Sure Deb, I'd be glad to. I can wait. That's no problem. I've got a good book I've been meaning to finish anyway. I'd be glad to wait a couple of hours for you, besides, you know I can't resist your good coffee."

"Oh thanks honey. Last Friday a couple of junkies tried to...you know. It ain't safe in this neighborhood any more," she smiled a smile that would have wilted stronger men. "Can I get you a slice of pie? On the house of course."

"No thanks, but you can keep the coffee coming" Bill returned her smile. She headed over to take the order from a couple of drunks at table four who had just wandered in.

Tony looks up from his untouched sandwich. "Does this-"

"Saint Dismas chip," Bill offers.

"Yeah, does this thing make you do weird stuff? Is there any side effects? Shakes, nightmares, that kind of shit,"

"I can't seem to drink enough coffee, and I sleep like a baby no matter how much I drink. I don't drink booze any more. Half a beer and I'm ready for a nap. I don't get pissed off like I used to, and my neck gets a little stiff sometimes. Other than that, I feel like I always did. I wear glasses now to read, but I think that is just because I'm getting older."

"Listen, I know this doctor, a surgeon, who owes me a favor. He could pull that thing out if you want. I could call him now and he could get you in on Monday. Tuesday at the latest..."

Bill shakes his head. "You don't understand Tony. I don't want it out. Not now, not ever. This is the best fuckin' thing that ever happened to me. All of the sudden life makes sence. I'm happy. I'm happy like you wouldn't believe! I want to work my nine to five at the bookstore and clock out, go to my little room in the back, settle in to my easy chair and read until ten, have a salad and go to bed. I dream like I never have in my life. I feel like I just want to spend the rest of my life doing this. Maybe someday I'll get married and have a couple of kids, a morgage and a ten year old car, but today, I can't picture doing anything else." Bill spreads out his open palms in a gesture that there isn't anything else to say on the subject.

Tony sniffs and lights a cigarette. "I suppose I could let the Holden boys do this one and just take a cut off the top as the fence is mine," he says as he contemplates his own future.

"They don't let you smoke in here," Bill warns.

"S'okay. I'm just leaving," Tony reaches for his wallet but Bill waves his hand. Tony nods, "Take care Bill. I'll see you around," and with that he is gone.

Bill fishes around in his coat pocket and pulls a tattered paperback out and flips pages until he finds his bookmark. He reads for two hours and drinks six more cups of coffee until Debra is finished with her shift. They walk out into the windy night together and after a block Debra reaches over to hold his massive hand in her tiny one. They walk in silence and Bill thinks about the lie he told.

"Tony would never have belived me any other way," he consoles himself, "and I just didn't have the heart to tell him that the scar was from a shiv made from a sharpened spoon. He just ain't the kind of person that would believe that people change."

Doc

My Crazy Eight's

"Who loves ya baby?" - Kojak

"And when that evening sun goes down, drive me in to your hometown, I'd like to buy your friends a round," - Tom T. Hall, "Give Me Peace"

"Hell Doc, I got lotsa friends" "Well I don't." - Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday in "Tombstone"

I have recieved a prestigious award, and it is even more prestigious as the bestower is a man of culture, taste, smarts, and wicked wit. I speak of none other than Coaster Punchman, bon vivant, gentleman, and a man about town.

Most every award I have ever recieved was emblazoned with the word "participant", "runner-up", or "Not Quite Dead Last", but not this time. I have recieved this award for what is percieved as my "charm". While I have never thought of myself as charming, I am not about to correct anyone who suggests that this might be a part of my character, as it is a misconception that I would like to cultivate. In bestowing this award on myself and seven other worthy bloggers, Coaster mentioned that I was his hero. For the life of me I can't imagine what I have said or done that was even remotely heroic other than I once saved a duck from drowning. The truth be told, I am as heroic as Barney Fife, and I don't think Coaster said it in a "wind beneath my wings" kind of way, as I am even less inspiring than I am heroic.

Regardless of how or why I wound up on this roll-call of great and charming bloggers, I am deeply honored and more than a little flattered. Thank you, Coaster. Thank you very much.

Now with this award comes one stipulation, listed below:

“These bloggers are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

Now comes the hard part. I have to nominate eight of you. The rotten thing is that I'm not certain who has garnered this award and who hasn't. To be fair, if I know you've gotten it, you are out of the running, but you will recieve a copy of the home game and a case of Turtlewax.

Ms. Peabody, the envelope please...

Here they are, Social Zymurgy's picks for the Crazy Eights Charming Blogger award, in no particular order:

Dale- A grand master of charm, word, and wit. Listen to one of his audio blogs and you'll be hooked.

Cooper Green, of Lying Bastard- If you can look at this and not laugh, check your pulse.

Gifted Typist- The Chronicle Herald don't know what they have! A true artist with a keyboard.

Holy Crappers- Contrary to it's name, this blog is not about theology or feces. It is written by two sisters, Sista #1 in the city of Brotherly Love, and Sista #2 in FLA and their merry beer-fueled misadventures. Also lots of eye candy for the ladies as every Tuesday is Tantillizing Tuesday.

Miles McClagan of Jungs Programme Notes- I can't say enough good things about this blog. Miles is a transplanted Scot who lives in Tasmania. His blogs are always two paragraphs long and have the feel of stream-of-conciousness about them as he flows from sport, to music, to girls and bogans*.

Cormac Brown at Cormac Writes- Would you like to meet a talented writer of the first order? His works will leave you with the lingering smell of perfume and burnt gunpowder like this.

Bubs at Sprawling Ramshackle Compound- If you can read the first three paragraphs of this and not feel compelled to read the rest- I swear I will eat dirt.

Kris McCraken at This Will Hurt Me...- If the titles and photos don't suck you in, I don't know what will.

Skyler's Dad at Some Days It's Not Worth Chewing Through The Leather Straps- While Coaster mentioned that I was his hero, I'd have to say that SD is mine. This man has a six foot funny bone.

Vikkitickkitavi at Bells On- Three words: "Damn Sharp" and "Fiesty". 'Nuff said.

Well there you have it, My Crazy Eights. All of the above are writers who justly deserve your time and attention, and in no way should be dismissed as simply the ramblings of a drunken old man. (These are the ramblings of a drunken old man, but they still shouldn't be dismissed.) Each one brings something unique, funny, and charming to the world of blogdom and should be recognised for their valuable contributions to enriching my life, and given half a chance, your's too.

Doc

P.S.- Anyone who feels like they have been unjustly overlooked in my selections should leave me a comment in the comments section. In no way will it alter my list, but you will be remembered the next time I have to nominate great bloggers of worth and you will get a free case of Turtlewax. Signed, The Editor.

* I'm ashamed to admit that I had to ask Miles what a bogan was. He explained that in America we would call them White-Trash in an AC/DC T-shirt.

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer In Heaven

Tommaso Aniello, better known as Masaniello. A man who inspired fear in the hearts of oppressors for three hundred years. A man who stood for liberty, equality, and justice for all.

Doc

This Bud's For You

Happy Mother's Day, you mothers...

I knew we picked the right restaurant when I saw the centerpieces at El Camposino's today. I hope you all had a great day. Cheers!

The King of Valentines Day

I was struggling as to what to get Flannery for Valentines day, as she made it abundantly clear that if I botched it this year I would be sleeping in the shed, but I think I may have done okay. When I got home last night I hid my presents in her car and taped a card to her steering wheel. I knew I had done alright with the card. It is tough to go wrong with Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow, even if it was a childs valentine. This morning she found it and my instructions.

What did I get her that has pulled my fat from the fire? What did I do that made her squeel, "You are the King of Valentine's Day!" Simple. I gave her what she truly wanted, even if she didn't know she wanted it. I didn't buy her jewelry, or flowers, or candy. Chicks don't want that sort of thing. What they want is a great rep and to show off a little bit how good they have it, and all it took was some cake.

Last night at the bakery I purchased a 1/4 sheet cake, chocolate, an 8" heart-shaped cake, white, and another heart-shaped cake in cherry. I got paper plates and plastic forks, as well as a pink heart-shaped cookie that was so sticky sweet that if your dentist saw it he would just rub his hands and smile as he made plans for a vacation in Aruba on your dime.

The cookie was for her and the cakes she took to the office to share. Suddenly she is the darling of the office and the talk of every cubicle, when they bother to stop stuffing their faces. Instant celebrity! Beloved by all! Now she gets to feel the love all day from the smiles of her coworkers and I get to sleep in my own bed. Win-Win.

Now I can't wait until tonight to see how well the second half of my Valentine's Day surprise works out.

All my love, my darling Valentine's!
Doc

Why Everyone Needs A George

THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO THE GEORGES OF THE WORLD, BUT MOSTLY TO "poor george" , BY WAY OF THE MOST HONORABLE COASTER PUNCHMAN. YOU ARE BOTH GENTLEMAN OF THE FIRST ORDER. DOC.

Let's face it, everyone knows a George. I have an uncle named George, and I am willing to bet large sums of money that you know a George too. Much like John, Matt, Mike, and Harry, it is a safe bet that you know someone by this name.

I have been privileged to know a lot of people in my time, and correct me if I am wrong, but I have found that people, to a certain extent, fit their names. I have always found Brads, Muffys, and Dicks to live up to my expectations, while Matts, Mikes, and Chads were open to interpretation. There are some names, such as Jennifer, Loretta, Susan, Linda, and Cathy that deserve some looking into, while Roberta's, Edwina's, and Cindy's need to be skipped.

But of all the names that I could name that spark my interest, George is one of my favorites.

Have you ever met a George that wasn't worth getting to know? I haven't.

I take that back. I CAN think of one George that I wish I'd never heard of and that would be alright with me, but I think of him as more of a "w" than a George.

Every other George I could name has turned out to be a person of great quality. A person who is worthy of trust, a straight-shooter, and considerate, well-mannered, and charming in his or her own right.

Because of a Bub's interview, I have learned of another George to confirm my theory, which is the idea that everyone needs a George in their life. After extensive research (at least fifteen minutes worth), studies have found that people prosper with a good George in their life, but that should not to be confused with the george they have had in office for a number of years.

It is truly a short list of things that I am an expert on, but after a long time of reading my mother's Harlequin Romance novels and having a few romances of my own, I have come to the same conclusion as Coaster Punchman.

"George's Rock, and everyone needs a George"

Amen.

If you don't have one, look into that. It might do you some good.

I have a George of my own, but she goes by the name of Flannery, and I only call her George long after she is asleep and she starts to snuggle and snore.

The World needs more Georges.

Feel free to share your "George's" below, regardless what you call them. After all, the world could use more stories of love, if for no other reason than for instructional purposes.

Doc

Ode to Bubs

Ladies and Gentle Readers, this is the reason that Al Gore invented the Internet, or World Wide Web, or whatever you kids are calling it these days. He invented it so we could meet good, quality people like this from all over the world. Well, that and porn.

It turns out, Bubs, a man I have never met, can find each other and realize that though we live worlds apart, we are incredibly alike, if his bio even remotely resembles the truth. It is almost uncanny.

1. He is male. So am I.
2. He is a civil servant. A couple of my family are civil servants, and I studied civil servitude in college. I think it might be Law Enforcement, and that is what I studied.
3. He lives in Illinois. So did Abe Lincoln, and he was my favorite president. I have three of his statues in my house.
4. He speaks of spending time at the Tiki bar and telling me to do things that I shouldn't. Anyone who knows me knows that I sing the virtues of Frank's Tiki bar to no end. It is where you can find me on any given evening. It is almost as if he has been watching me. Yea, I'm thinking Law Enforcement. Close one eye please, or perhaps I don't have to ask. You cited "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" as one of your books, so I think that you would fit right in at the Tiki bar. This is an open invitation to stop by whenever you find yourself in North-East Ohio. Ask Chris. He can clue you in to what "Tiki" is like.
5. In your list of favorite movies, you are such a movie lover that you can't even come up with a list. ME TOO! Sure, if you look at my bio I came up with a few, but in no way does this represent the movies that appeal to me.
6. You managed to narrow down your music tastes enough to make a list, and WOW! What a list! It comes from my own iTunes playlist: Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Howlin' Wolf, Iggy Pop, Bill Monroe, James Brown, Tom Jones, Elvis Costello, Billy Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Jay Hawkins, Carl Perkins, Nirvana, Roy Acuff, Flatt & Scruggs, JOHN LEE HOOKER, Fats Waller. You must love a well sung tune, as all of these are accomplished singers in their own right. I swear, you have been watching me.
7. Your list of books matches several on my bookshelf now. I'm partial to "The Killer Angels" but anything you would recommend would be great. Anyone who includes "The Great Gatsby" who isn't a teacher is someone that I want to get to know.
8. He has good comments on my stuff.

Well, that wraps up the ode. I look forward to the coming days when I can read into your blog and find out much how more we are alike, and different. (I'm not much on Elvis, but maybe you could point out what I've been missing all these years.)

Let us pause a moment and raise our glass.

"Salute Bubs. Well Met!"

Doc

Happy Birthday Paula Abdul!

Yes, our little girl is growing up. She has matured before our very eyes. Who remembers when this little kitten appear before us in the charts and gracing Mtv for the first time? I do. She turns 45 today. I know. The local radio station Wsomething or other, 94 something, told me so. It turns out Dear Paula shares a birthday with Kathleen Turner and Anne Wilson from "Heart" fame.

It turns out all of us here at the cyber-bar here at Social Zymurgy wish them all a "Happy Birthday", but especially Paula.

Please Dear, stay on the meds.

Doc

Ode To Grant Miller

While I must admit that Flannery Alden showed me what blogging is, and Chris and Big Orange showed me what blogging could be, Grant Miller showed me what it is about. Here's to you sir. Let us lift our glasses high!

Doc

A Toast Has Been Proposed...

GETKristiLOVE has proposed a marvelous American Toast.

Put your two cents in HERE

Raise A Glass To Our Next American Idol

I couldn't find a picture or a YouTube, he's that fresh. But Sundance Head is the next American Idol in our household. And, for the first time in Idol history, Doc has been officially blown away. Sundance Head has an amazing voice, a strange beard, and a personality as entertaining as Larry the Cable Guy.

So, here's to you, Sundance Head, may American Idol never kill your soul!