SOCIAL NETWORKING MADE EASY AS POURIN' A COLD DRAUGHT!!

I remember in high school getting a coffee mug from my friend Brian that was dark bloo with a big, red heart on it that said, "I [heart] Fridays." I loved that mug, though it wasn't until somewhere circa the year 2k or thereabouts that I started seriously working only M-F: most of my jobs in high school, college and early adulthood had rotating shifts, often on weekends.

But the sentiment is still a good one and millions of people would share it, no doubt, if the piles of cars outside the local pubs on a Friday are any indication. It's always nice to get new comments and visitors on Friday, so I was pleased when I checked the comments and found that a Dondon from the Must Love Beer Social Networking website had found us (no doubt it was Doc's fine artwork that sent ripples out through the human collective unconscious and attracted attention).

I hear-tell from Flannery that this whole "social networking" biz is the hot trend of the early 2000's, and I, for one, would hate to be left out on a hawt new trend, even if an introductory paragraph has 6 hyperlinked terms in it on Wiki, and uses the word "nodes." So, needless to say, I signed up right away, do not pass GO, do not collect 200 balloons.
I don't know this for a fact, having only poked my head through the proverbial door to see who's inside and what the digs look like, but it looks nice in there, and I just thought I'd give y'all the info in case you too wanted to join up.

See y'all inside.

---E.J.

A Great, Big Truck-Load of Thanks!

I got a surprise in the mail the other day, and it wasn't just my Govt Bribe check. A thick package arrived with the bizarre return address of 123 Main St. Anytown U.S.A.

"What the fig could this be?" I wondered.

I opened it and out poured memories of my boyhood. I laughed so hard I cried, great big salty sentimental tears.

A while back, Blowing Shit Up With Gas mentioned on his blog that he had a couple of handfuls of comic books that he was looking to get rid of and wanted to know if they had any value. In the list was a comic book I have been looking for for twenty-two years. I left him a little note saying that I would be glad to pay him any reasonable price he could name, as I know he is moving and could use the cash, but I got no response. "Oh well," I thought, "I'm sure he is busy with the move and all, and he just missed it. I don't want to bug him about it."

Then I found it resting in my hot little hand after twenty-two years and I was moved.

Now I am not a comic book collector, although I own a few, but in 1986 Marvel Comics printed a six issue series of Robert E. Howard's (of Conan fame) "Solomon Kane", about a dour puritan who fought demons and the supernatural in the mid to late 1500's. He was everything I wanted in a childhood hero. He was this lost and troubled soul who fought the elements of Satan and righted wrongs where ever he felt God sent him. I admired this character and followed his exploits through all five of the six issues that Marvel printed, but I could never find the #3 issue. It was as elusive as the twenty-fifth beer in a case. It was not to be found.

But here it was, in mint condition, along with the other five, and I was dumbsquizzled.

So, to Sir Patrick Hillman ESQ., I owe you many, many thanks. You have made a 15/37 year old boy very happy, and for that I am truly grateful.

If you need help moving, I'd be glad to help, and if you ever find your way to N.E. Ohio stop by. I be glad to put you up and buy you a keg of Guinness and swap stories until the wee hours.

Your Friend,

Doc

Providence (not Rhode Island)

While I've been sticking to my "no beer" promise, I must admit that the bottle of vanilla extract was looking good.

Tuesday night at work, I'm in the homestretch to quiting time and this older gentleman stops in the bakery. He comes in most every evening, shopping for the reduced bargains, and making smalltalk. He's retired and does all the shopping, as his wife is very ill. He comes to the counter and wants a loaf of rye bread sliced. When I return with his bread he asks me, "Do you drink wine?"

"Upon occasion,"

"What kind of wine do you like?"

"Riesling. Something sweet. Why do you ask?"

"Cause I'm going to bring you a bottle of wine," he says with a smile, and off he goes.

"Good," I thought, and I put it out of my head as I had a lot of things to finish before 8:30 rolled around. Just as I'm putting up the "Closed" sign and taking down the bell, he comes back to the counter, dripping wet from the thunderstorm outside, and hands me a carefully wrapped bottle. I managed to stammer my thanks, and he went on to explain that he had made it himself.

Then he told me of the story of the Grape & Granary. His brother owns the place and you can go make your own wine. You mix it up with the help of one of their wine-makers, they store it, monitor, and filter it, and call you when it's ready. You come and bottle and label it and have your own brand at a fraction of the cost of buying it in the store. Not to mention you can sit eating bread and cheese and enjoy samples of everything for $.25 each.

And they sell beer brewing supplies too!

I hurried home and headed over to Franklin's to borrow a corkscrew, as mine was missing. We tasted it in my fine crystal goblets. I told him about it and suggested that it would make a great Tiki field trip and he agreed.

It was fortunate that the gentleman showed up when he did, as my resolve was thinning from walking back and forth past the beer aisle all evening, and it's siren song is strong. The store has started carrying an Italian beer that I'm eager to try.

Perhaps Blanche DuBois wasn't completely wrong. As the gentleman shuffled off back into the stormy night he called to me over his shoulder, "I'll see you Saturday and bring you another bottle." Ah, the kindness of strangers.

Doc