The Pabst Brewing Company is moving its corporate headquarters to Los Angeles, according to a story I heard on NPR this morning. They went on to say that sales of its signature product, Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, have rebounded in recent years due to a growing cult following. Sales had been in decline over the past thirty or so years, not entirely because I stopped drinking it.
Pabst Blue Ribbon figured prominently in my beer-drinking life in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, starting when I was in college in Wisconsin back in the days when an establishment with a "B" license could sell beer to persons 18 and older. Going out to the B-bars (especially on Thursday, known as "Loadin’ Night") was required behavior back then. My particular favorite place was Rudy’s Tavern, where a "Shorty Pabst" (an 8-ounce can) was a quarter.
One of my Blue Ribbon memories is about the time a college friend who lived in Milwaukee invited me and another pal for a long holiday weekend. Her father worked for Pabst, and he kept a refrigerator in the garage filled to capacity with PBR. We had the place to ourselves as her family had gone away, and the three of us spent three days doing almost nothing except playing pinochle and drinking beer, with occasional breaks for food, shorter ones for sleep, and short but frequent ones for going to the bathroom. By the time we left, the refrigerator in the garage was empty.
When I was a starving graduate student, I started buying brands like Old Milwaukee and Red White & Blue because they were even cheaper than PBR. Later I took a shine to Stroh’s. Now my favorite is Miller Genuine Draft.
But I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Pabst Blue Ribbon. This is not original, of course, but it’s what I remember of our version from those old Wisconsin days:
I think that I shall never hear
A poem lovely as a beer,
With golden crown and foamy cap,
The brew that Rudy's has on tap.
Poems are made by fools, I hear,
But only Pabst can make a beer.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
P.S. It's Friday the 13th
The first time I heard it, I thought that ...
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear,
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was he?
... was the funniest thing I ever heard. It probably was, since I was about three years old.
When I was about nine years old, I heard somebody telling somebody else (on television) that "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" meant we come from dust and when we die we go back to dust, and the other person said, "Then you'd better go check under the bed, because somebody is either coming or going."
And I thought that was the funniest thing I ever heard.
Yesterday I heard Newt Gingrich is running for President.
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear,
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was he?
... was the funniest thing I ever heard. It probably was, since I was about three years old.
When I was about nine years old, I heard somebody telling somebody else (on television) that "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" meant we come from dust and when we die we go back to dust, and the other person said, "Then you'd better go check under the bed, because somebody is either coming or going."
And I thought that was the funniest thing I ever heard.
Yesterday I heard Newt Gingrich is running for President.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
My New Wheels
The lease was up on my automobile this month, so I needed a new ride. I really wanted to economize now that I'm retired and my income is reduced. We really only need one good car between us, so I thought I'd get myself a beater just to buzz around town in. However, it seems that the Cash for Clunkers took all the $1500 used cars off the market, and besides, after seeing what $5000 will buy, I abandoned that idea.
I looked into leasing or buying new, buying used -- I even thought about buying the gas-guzzling SUV I had been leasing, but that was a bad idea too, especially since gasoline was $4.29 a gallon that week.
So, I finally decided a late-model mid-sized used car would do. I stopped to see the dealer up the street, who just happened to have for sale a 2007 Chevrolet Malibu with 8840 miles on it. Yes. That's what I said.
It's a nice car. Looks brand new inside and out -- talk about the little old lady who only drove it to church on Sundays. It's got four doors and power stuff and a DIC (computerized Driver Information Center). It can get 22 mpg in town and 32 on the highway. Its color is given as "amber bronze metallic," which is a sort of light gold-ish tan. It's a nice car to drive. I'm liking it a lot
I had several stops on my shopping trip today, and as I drove around town I kept noticing other vehicles similar to mine in size and shape and color, and I suddenly became aware of exactly what has happened to me.
I am driving an old-lady car.
Oh, well. If the shoes fits...
I looked into leasing or buying new, buying used -- I even thought about buying the gas-guzzling SUV I had been leasing, but that was a bad idea too, especially since gasoline was $4.29 a gallon that week.
So, I finally decided a late-model mid-sized used car would do. I stopped to see the dealer up the street, who just happened to have for sale a 2007 Chevrolet Malibu with 8840 miles on it. Yes. That's what I said.
It's a nice car. Looks brand new inside and out -- talk about the little old lady who only drove it to church on Sundays. It's got four doors and power stuff and a DIC (computerized Driver Information Center). It can get 22 mpg in town and 32 on the highway. Its color is given as "amber bronze metallic," which is a sort of light gold-ish tan. It's a nice car to drive. I'm liking it a lot
I had several stops on my shopping trip today, and as I drove around town I kept noticing other vehicles similar to mine in size and shape and color, and I suddenly became aware of exactly what has happened to me.
I am driving an old-lady car.
Oh, well. If the shoes fits...
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The Governor's Portrait
The official portrait of Jennifer Granholm, Michigan's first woman governor who left office this year, was unveiled in the Capitol rotunda yesterday in Lansing. It was painted by Michigan artist Charles Pompilius.
In the portrait, the former Governor is standing, with one hand on a globe and the other at her hip, indicating she means business. She is not smiling; the look on her face is pleasant but serious. Instead of looking directly out at the viewer as most portrait subjects do, she is gazing out a window "toward the future," as she herself explained. Other symbolism is embodied in a mortar board, a miniature wind turbine, a shovel, and a model of the Chevrolet Volt.
And she's wearing slacks.
Go Gov.
In the portrait, the former Governor is standing, with one hand on a globe and the other at her hip, indicating she means business. She is not smiling; the look on her face is pleasant but serious. Instead of looking directly out at the viewer as most portrait subjects do, she is gazing out a window "toward the future," as she herself explained. Other symbolism is embodied in a mortar board, a miniature wind turbine, a shovel, and a model of the Chevrolet Volt.
And she's wearing slacks.
Go Gov.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Der Doppelgänger
The recent royal wedding has dredged up a lot of reminiscences about the groom’s mother. So, I’ll dredge up a story of my own from about twenty or so years ago, which involves my partner’s sister, Penny, from Indiana, and a friend of ours named Joyce.
Joyce was not the only person who thought Penny looked a lot like Princess Diana. They were about the same age, and the same height (close to six feet), and while some of it was face and some was carriage, a lot of it was hairdo. On the few occasions when Joyce had met Penny, she liked to tease her by calling her “Lady Di.”
Penny had come up to visit us a week or so before Christmas. We went shopping and ended up at a local Target store, which was packed with holiday shoppers. When we were ready to check out, we got into one of the long lines and waited.
Also waiting two lines over was a woman with a little girl probably about nine years old. The girl was staring at Penny, and finally yanked on her mother's sleeve, whispering and pointing. Her mother looked over, smiled slightly and shook her head. The little girl persisted, and I heard her mother say, “No, that’s not her.” The girl became more agitated, bouncing up and down while tugging at her mother’s coat. More firmly, the mother said, “No, it isn’t. What would she be doing in a Target store in Lansing, Michigan?”
Just at that moment, I saw Joyce coming into the store, whom we hadn’t seen in a while. I hailed her, and she came over to say hello to us. I indicated Penny and said, “Look who’s here.”
Joyce immediately gasped in surprise, went down in a low curtsy with her head bowed and her hand over her heart, and said, “Your Highness!”
The little girl about fainted.
Joyce was not the only person who thought Penny looked a lot like Princess Diana. They were about the same age, and the same height (close to six feet), and while some of it was face and some was carriage, a lot of it was hairdo. On the few occasions when Joyce had met Penny, she liked to tease her by calling her “Lady Di.”
Penny had come up to visit us a week or so before Christmas. We went shopping and ended up at a local Target store, which was packed with holiday shoppers. When we were ready to check out, we got into one of the long lines and waited.
Also waiting two lines over was a woman with a little girl probably about nine years old. The girl was staring at Penny, and finally yanked on her mother's sleeve, whispering and pointing. Her mother looked over, smiled slightly and shook her head. The little girl persisted, and I heard her mother say, “No, that’s not her.” The girl became more agitated, bouncing up and down while tugging at her mother’s coat. More firmly, the mother said, “No, it isn’t. What would she be doing in a Target store in Lansing, Michigan?”
Just at that moment, I saw Joyce coming into the store, whom we hadn’t seen in a while. I hailed her, and she came over to say hello to us. I indicated Penny and said, “Look who’s here.”
Joyce immediately gasped in surprise, went down in a low curtsy with her head bowed and her hand over her heart, and said, “Your Highness!”
The little girl about fainted.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Just Do It
I have always liked television cooking shows. I used to have to do serious channel surfing to find any, but nowadays there are whole networks devoted to food. They show the oldie moldies like Julia Child and Graham Kerr, and they show the currently famous like Paula and Rachael and Ina and Giada and the ubiquitous Bobby Flay, and some newbies too like Aarti and Nigella, and some oddities like the two fat ladies.
And all the while the cooks are showing and telling us how, they can't just do something, they have to go ahead and do it. All of them. All the time.
I'm going to go ahead and dice the celery.
Let's go ahead and get started on the sauce.
Then you can go ahead and add the cheese.
Why do they all always have to go ahead to do it? Why can't they just add the damn cheese?
And why, oh why, do they all grab everything?
I'm going to grab the heavy cream.
Let me just grab this big pan.
I'll just grab some things from the freezer.
To grab is to seize something suddenly, generally with some sense of urgency and a very tight grip. You grab somebody by the lapels. You grab at a gunshot wound in your arm. You grab each other when you are frightened. You grab a lifeline.
You don't grab cream. You take it from the refrigerator. You retrieve it. You get it. Get. What's wrong with get? A perfectly good word.
Aw, nuts. I'm gonna go ahead and grab a drink.
And all the while the cooks are showing and telling us how, they can't just do something, they have to go ahead and do it. All of them. All the time.
I'm going to go ahead and dice the celery.
Let's go ahead and get started on the sauce.
Then you can go ahead and add the cheese.
Why do they all always have to go ahead to do it? Why can't they just add the damn cheese?
And why, oh why, do they all grab everything?
I'm going to grab the heavy cream.
Let me just grab this big pan.
I'll just grab some things from the freezer.
To grab is to seize something suddenly, generally with some sense of urgency and a very tight grip. You grab somebody by the lapels. You grab at a gunshot wound in your arm. You grab each other when you are frightened. You grab a lifeline.
You don't grab cream. You take it from the refrigerator. You retrieve it. You get it. Get. What's wrong with get? A perfectly good word.
Aw, nuts. I'm gonna go ahead and grab a drink.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Blessed Be
The beatification of John Paul II yesterday took me back to his election, which -- somewhat incongruously -- is linked in my mind with the big-screen TV they had in the Student Union at Western Illinois University. It was one of those primitive projector types with a lousy picture and even worse color, but it was new and exciting technology at the time.
One day in the fall of 1978, I was having lunch in the Union and watching the news on the big TV. They showed film of white smoke coming out of the ceremonial chimney at the Vatican, indicating that a new Pope had been elected.
His two predecessors, Paul VI and John XXIII, were both very well thought of -- John was especially beloved by the people, I think. So, when I heard that the new Pope had chosen John Paul for his name, I remember thinking, "Well, this guy is a diplomat."
He only lived about another month, of course, and they went through the whole exercise over again. I just happened to be sitting in the Union watching the news on the afternoon when the white smoke rose again. When they said the new Pope had chosen as his name John Paul II, I thought, "Now there is a diplomat!"
One day in the fall of 1978, I was having lunch in the Union and watching the news on the big TV. They showed film of white smoke coming out of the ceremonial chimney at the Vatican, indicating that a new Pope had been elected.
His two predecessors, Paul VI and John XXIII, were both very well thought of -- John was especially beloved by the people, I think. So, when I heard that the new Pope had chosen John Paul for his name, I remember thinking, "Well, this guy is a diplomat."
He only lived about another month, of course, and they went through the whole exercise over again. I just happened to be sitting in the Union watching the news on the afternoon when the white smoke rose again. When they said the new Pope had chosen as his name John Paul II, I thought, "Now there is a diplomat!"
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