17.5% ABV (bottling #11,554; November 5, 2007)
A few brief tales, anecdotes, one-liners, and happenings that never came to complete fruition from my recent life that were not quite good enough to make the theatrical release.
*BB and I picked up two best friends at a swank bar in Philadelphia who brought us back to my girl’s apartment for a sordid slumber party. The next morning, under the guise of needing a Starbucks, they escorted us out of the building. Awkwardly standing on the sidewalk, no one quite sure how to wrap up the one night stands, I said to the gals: “So how you want to end this thing? Handshake? Hug? Kiss on the cheek?”
*Brunching at a college diner on a Sunday, a man arrived amidst the sweatsuit-clad completely overdressed for 11 AM in a tuxedo. My friends and I began loudly snickering and openly mocking him, perhaps due to the intoxicants still in our systems from the night before. One friend nicknamed him “James Bond” and I couldn’t help but humming aloud Dum da-da dum dum dum. Finally, I came up with the swell idea to secretly send the tuxedoed dork a shaken-not-stirred martini–a splendid value at only $6.50 I might add. Unfortunately, the man departed before our waitress returned to our table and potential hilarity was averted.
*There was the night my youthful looking friend couldn’t locate his driver’s license, something that worried him since we were going out drinking later at a bar with ball-busting bouncers. I told my friend not to be concerned for once we got to the pub, I handed the meathead doorman my ID, matter of factly asking him: “You let Jews in here, right?” He put his hands up in minor dismay, pleading with me: “Why yes! OF COURSE we let in Jews!” I smiled good and pulled my IDless friend toward the entrance. “I need to see his card.” “He lost it.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t let him in then.” I exploded in anger, loudly calling out for the whole block to hear: “You’re not letting my friend in?! Cause he’s Jewish?! That is unacceptable! You anti-Semitic bastard!”
*On a similar note was the drunken night I decided to expose bigots, taking the guise of an anti-Semite and confiding in the bartender: “Just between you and me, fella, I hate fucking Jews.” I asked him if the rumors were true and Jews were indeed poor tippers. He confided indeed they were, those swarthy money grubbing bastards. I played it cool, but later in the night and much drunker I began laying waste to the bar, ripping decorations of the wall and “making it rain” with cocktail napkins, swizzle sticks, and lemons. Of course I was 86ed but I must admit the bartender was quite prescient: this Hebe gave him a zero percent tip.
*There was this previous weekend where I was talking to my friend on the phone as he worked, making a plan to visit him in his office later in the day. I heard schoolgirl giggling in the background and my buddy revealed that the laughter was coming from a co-worker who had discovered the Vice Blog and was a huge fan, now excited and nervous to meet a “celebrity” later in the day. Since I’m an inveterate egomaniac, of course I’m more excited to meet a fawning fan of mine than even they are to meet me. And I was most excited to find her an attractive girl. I now hope to meet more unknown fans in the future. Come on ladies, have the balls to reveal yourselves to me and take me out for drinks, something I will reward with a few autographs and by letting you touch me.
*And the most recently disappointing “What coulda been…” an all-time legendary story was a few weeks ago as two friends and I closed down a bar when who should enter the deserted watering hole but an absolutely model stunning collection of ten friends. I quickly made friends with the group by asking them if they thought the girl one of my friends was hitting on was a lesbian. They took the analysis of that question with utter seriousness, mocking my friend enough that he soon skipped out on his girl and joined me with the ten hotties. Quickly, we learned that these leggy youngsters were an entire college basketball team from a college you’ve never heard of in Pennsylvania. These beauties loved me and my friends and were almost battling over who got to be paired with whom. Heck, we even made plans to drive up and watch the nationally ranked team play a basketball game and then afterward sleazily party with them in their dorm rooms. Attractive, 5’11”, leggy, college athlete, party girls. It doesn’t get much better than that. Unfortunately, after a few Facebook communiques over the next week, we all lost touch and the most epic orgy of all time never materialized. Oh, what could have been…
My friend Derek hooked me up with a bottle of the second edition of Dark Horizon. The first batch currently resides in Beer Advocate top 100 and it would seem the younger bottling is just as good. In fact, the self-proclaimed “Uncompromising Brewery” has made one of the better stouts, if not outright beers, I have ever had, pushing the threshold of punishing booziness with its 17.5% ABV. Being that the incredibly handsome tin and tissue-wrapped packaging notes “mature til Fall 2009, best by 2020,” I imagine this beer will only get better and better and better. Though even drinking it not quite “ripe,” I found it to be just a hair below the immortal Bourbon County Stout in my all-time stout rankings. Full of dark chocolate, coffee, a slight sugar sweetness to even out the bitterness, and a silky wine-ness, this brew is amazingly drinkable for its potency, and a true Norwegian masterpiece.