Edged in Blue

The City of San Francisco is letting voters decide if they want to name a sewage plant in honor of George W. Bush.

Personally, I’m all for renaming Mill Creek for him.

The Jib Jab boys are back, like cicadas, only once every four years. Not nearly as good as “This Land Is Your Land” with Kerry and Bush, but still funny.

There are lots of things I’m pissed off about.  Obama’s sell out on FISA.  Gas prices.  The continued popularity of Howard Stern.  Ann Coulter was not stillborn.  As you can see, I have a lot to get worked up about.

The sale of Budweiser to Belgium’s InBev is not one of them. Why?

I drink Killians, which is a lager brewed by Coors based on an Irish red ale.  When I’m not drinking that, I’m drinking Samuel Adams, some of which is brewed here in Cincinnati by the old Hudepohl brewery.  (”Would you like a Hudie?”  “I’d be delighted!”)  When I’m not drinking that, I’m drinking Bass Ale or its cross-England rival, Newcastle.  And when I’m not drinking those, I’m drinking Irish ale, usually Smithwick’s or Harp’s.  And when all else fails, I drink Warsteiner, which is a weak German beer.  Which means you have to drink the entire bottle before it knocks you on your ass.

In other words, I like beer-flavored beer.  I love the Great Lakes brews and good ol’ cheap Spotted Cow from Wisconsin and its more full-bodied counterpart, Capitol Ale.  I love Christian Morlein and the kick of the stuff they brew at Rock Bottom.  I’ve been to New York to have Brooklyn Beer and Philadelphia to have Yuengling and to San Francisco to have Anchor Steam.

I never bought into the myth that the working man must drink really bad beer, even though I did go through a Pabst phase in my early drinking days.  No, sir.  No Schlitz, Milwaukee’s Best, or Stoh’s for me.  (Sorry, Erin.  Can’t drink it.)

For me, mass-produced American beer like Budweiser is little more than alcoholic soda pop.  It’s good to quench your thirst, but there’s nothing to it.  It has no kick, no flavor.  Oh, if I’m forced to drink cheap beer, I’ll usually opt for Bud.  And I will admit it’s not as watery as Coors.  (Will someone please tell me why it was such a big deal to sell Coors east of the Mississippi in the 1980’s?  I can’t believe they made a Burt Reynolds movie about it!)

Yes, a foreign company has bought Anheuser-Busch.  So what?  If I still drank it regularly, I might get worked up about it.  But I’m not.  I say spend the extra bucks and get the microbrews.  In this economy, the little breweries need your support.

And in this economy, you need something stronger than Michelob Ultra to get you through it.

‘Scuse me.  I’m gonna run downstairs and fetch me a Killians.

Once upon a time, there was a US territory called “The Panama Canal Zone,” so named because America was running the canal instead of Panama.  And prior to 1953, an American born there was not eligible to run for president.

Once such individual is John McCain.  Oops.

Wanna bet nothing comes of this, but would have if it were Barack Obama?

Actually, nothing will come of this because the GOP fears having to watch Mitt Romney try to sound black again.

But if Barack pulls another boner like the FISA compromise, at least we’ll have a president who will finally get those damn kids off the White House lawn.

Sometimes crime pays, though not in financial windfall.  Over the Fourth of July weekend, a would-be car thief attempted to steal a van and discovered a bomb inside.  The thief moved the van to a less crowded area, then called a cop he knew from previous run-ins.  Police opted not to file charges as the thief likely saved lives.

Yesterday was a major cleaning day at Rancho Winter.  The former Mrs. Winter had vacated the previous day.  It was my turn to come in and purge the place of kitty dander and kitty fur and kitty spit.  (Still working on it.)

Late last night, I decided to finish off the day by cleaning the kitchen.  The stove was filthy, but I was out of paper towels.  What to do?  What to do?

Oh, wait.  I left my #85 jersey here when I moved in with Nita.

Now Chad Johnson has found his purpose in life:  Cleaning crap off my stove.

He’s also found his place in life:

My garbage can.

Have a happy season on the bench, Ocho Stinko.

Dear Mr. Kristol:

Recently, in the Paper of Record, you wrote a piece that I may be late to the bandwagon in rebutting.  However, I finally did run across your column in June 23 New York Times while in the restroom at work yesterday.

It was a good thing I was already sitting down considering what it made me do.  Your column decried MoveOn.org’s most recent ad about a woman worried her toddler son may have to serve in Iraq because of President McCain’s policies.  Here’s what got my blood boiling and bowels moving:

I’m not persuaded. Having slandered a distinguished general officer, MoveOn has now moved on to express contempt for all who might choose to serve their country in uniform.

So if a parent worries that their son will be involved in an endless war, which, you must admit, your candidate is not doing a good job persuading us we won’t be, it’s contempt for those who serve in uniform.

Mr. Kristol, you are so full of what I was leaving in the toilet when I read your column that it’s a wonder you’re not wearing diapers.  Frankly, I resent your comment.  I am a new stepdad.  And while my wife and I doubt AJ will serve in the military (He’s probably better informed about the war than you are.), we (and likely AJ’s father) would be proud if he chose to do so.  It represents an opportunity I myself was denied when I was younger.

But I am scared that, if he has to pursue that option, he might very well die by a roadside bomb in a never-ending war.  Sure, John McCain says it would be more like our presence in Germany or Japan.  Any thinking person, however, knows that the culture of that part of the world would never tolerate such a presence.  Any parent with a child old enough to serve as part of that presence (meaning even some parents who haven’t been born yet) has a damned good reason to worry.  We’re not safer for this war.  My day job has me moving from between two major federal buildings to this city’s tallest building by 2011.  All this war has done is paint a Manhattan-sized target on my back.

So tell me, Mr. Kristol.  Is being a good parent unpatriotic?  If so, I’ll put my patriotism up against yours any day.

See, I love my country enough to criticize it, even if people like you can’t handle that.  You merely love your party enough to keep your nose planted in its backside.

That’s not patriotism.  That’s crass ideology.

Yes, sad, but true. Personal comittments (like two house payments until we sell one of the places off), will prevent me from going to Bouchercon this year.

However, lest ye fall for the lies of a bogus union, I’m here to tell you.

GO. If you don’t and have no real reason not to, you will regret it. I regret it, and I have a legitimate reason to stay home.

Co-chair Ruth Jordan explains the confusion caused by a union dispute that happened with the Wyndham became a Sheraton. While I am sympathetic to the employees (The staff of the Chicago Sheraton in 2005 rocked!), I do not appreciate my fellow authors receiving misinformation and phone calls stating that Bouchercon has been rescheduled or canceled.

Being from a big union town, I was brought up to believe that real unions picket their employers or run ads when there’s a dispute. I was unaware that it was perfectly acceptable to commit fraud.

My only message to this group is:

If you have to lie to support your cause, you don’t have a cause.

Bottom line:  Bcon is on.  Go forth and enjoy!

OK, I’ve long since had it with the big crybaby.

Chad Johnson showed up for Bengals minicamp yesterday and somehow managed to make it all about him.  And on the sidelines, making sure it was all about The Chad was his agent, Drew Rosenhaus.

*Sigh*  *Yawn*  The Reds are better than their record, right?  Bronson Arroyo pulled off a win last night?  The Cyclones won their league championship, didn’t they?

Here’s the conundrum.  The Bengals can’t trade Chad Johnson.  If they do, they’re out $18 million on the salary cap.  It has been speculated (and not exactly denied by Rosenhaus) that Chad is trying to negotiate a new contract.  WLW’s Tracy Jones, who knows a thing or two about being a pro athlete, was outraged, asking since when a deal was no longer a deal?  He referred to the three-year contract Johnson signed when he was the darling of Cincinnati.

When is a deal not a deal?  Ask the useless Terrell Owens.  Who’s Owens’ agent?

Drew Rosenhaus.

If the Bengals want to focus on having a winning season, they should bar Rosenhaus from all team facilities (There are many fine restaurants downtown for Chad to meet with him, and he does own a cell phone) and bench Chad for the season.

With duct tape over his mouth.

Time to sign Shaun Alexander.

OK, listen up!  No more social networking invites.

I got on MySpace because it’s a pretty decent marketing tool, despite the fact I don’t have anything to market but an ever-evolving standup set.  I joined Facebook because my someone thought it’d be fun for me to hang out on.  It’s a colossal waste of time.  I never look at Ning anymore.  In the past two weeks, I’ve ended up with a Xanga account I never look at and now I’ve been Tagged.

Tagged went and emailed everyone in my Yahoo address book.  If I “invited” you, disregard.

And stop sending me invites.  I’m at www.myspace.com/eviljwinter, and that’s all the social networking you need to talk to me.

And while we’re on the subject, does anyone know how to delete Tom from your Friends list?  That guy’s just dorky.