WANT!!!

I am a strong and virile man, with a gruff disposition no tolerance for all that namby-pamby shit. In fact, I am best known three things:

1) Chopping wood with the sides of my hands

2) Scaring off neighborhood ruffians with a glare and a low growl

and

3) Stirring boiling liquids with my fingers

Despite this overflow of machismo, even I find myself emotionally vulnerable at times. Like that time the lithe and lean Mrs. Pax Arcana and I went to the (awesome! kick ass!) Museum of Science to watch “Shackleton’s Antarctic Adventure” on the IMAX screen.

It turns out I can watch movies of orphans being dismembered by roving bands of Nazi werewolves with zero emotional attachment, but the story of one man’s struggle to save his crew from icy death in Antarctica made me tear up like a fat kid who dropped his cupcake in the mud.

So you’ll forgive me for getting overly excited to hear that workers New Zealand’s Antarctic Heritage Trust are preparing to unearth several crates of scotch that Shackleton buried in the snow. The bottles of McKinlay whisky have been lodged under the floorboards of Shackleton’s makeshift hut for almost 100 years, though producers say the ice around it may have preserved it perfectly:

Richard Paterson, Whyte & Mackay’s master blender, said the Shackleton expedition’s whiskey could still be drinkable and taste exactly as it did 100 years ago.

If he can get a sample, he intends to replicate the old Scotch and put McKinlay whiskey back on sale.

“I really hope we can get some back here,” he was quoted as telling London’s Telegraph newspaper. “It’s been laying there lonely and neglected. It should come back to Scotland where it was born.”

I think I speak for all scotch enthusiasts when I say this is the single most touching story ever told.

*tears up, grabs bottle of Bruichladdich*

I mean, to think of what that man went through…

*gulp*

HE ROWED 800 MILES, THEN SCALED IMPASSABLE MOUNTAINS TO FIND HELP!!

*now openly bawling*

HE DIDN’T LOSE A MAN!!!

*sniff*

I love you guys

Lost Scotch Whiskey Cache Buried in Antarctica [Discovery News]

You are how you drink

Pax Arcana

A British psychiatrist recently studied 500 people in bars, and says he’s narrowed drinkers into eight categories based on how they hold their drinks. Categories include The Gossip — usually a woman who leans over her wine glass (held by the bowl) to tell secrets to her friends — and The Jack-The-Lad, who sits far from his glass and leans back on his chair to claim his own little fiefdom within the bar.

Dr. Wilson said: “The simple act of holding a drink displays a lot more about us than we realise – or might want to divulge.

“When you’re in a crowded bar, often all you have to go on is body language.

“To a large extent, it’s an unconscious thing and just reflects the person you are and the type of social relationships you have.”

Of course his findings are all based on British drinkers, so not all social clues translate exactly. If he had studied people in Boston, he would have included several other categories including: The Punch-Douche, Fisty McIrish, The Tribal Tat Army, Pushups the Challenger, and Date-Slap McGillicuddy.

‘Glass hold’ reveals personality [BBC]

Drunk driving totally cool in campgrounds

Pax Arcana

According to Universal Hub, the Massachusetts Appeals Court recently overturned someone’s drunk driving conviction on the grounds that he was on the grounds — of a campground. Full of coffee grounds. Behind the Ground Round.

What?

Oh yeah — apparently they can’t give you a DUI anywhere other than a public road. And despite the fact that anyone can pay to camp at the campground, it’s still gated and not really public:

[T]he presence of a gate severely restricting general access to the campground is of great significance. The evidence established that no motorist approaching the entrance to the campground could suffer any illusion that he was welcome to enter the campground and drive on its roadways. The fact that the campground solicits business from the general public does not alter the equation; though members of the general public are invited to become licensees of the campground, they are not allowed into the campground unless or until they have acquired such a license. Even more than the fact of that limitation, the gate makes its reality abundantly clear to any putative visitor.

In other news, I’m almost finished constructing a gate blocking off the route from my house to the liquor store. Johnny Law says it’s one way the wrong direction and you’re not allowed to drive on the sidewalk. I say take it up with the courts, Jack. Also, back up. I think I’m gonna boot again.

Court rules it’s not drunk driving if you’re not on a public way [Universal Hub]

Danger lurks at every fun, delicious turn

Pax Arcana

One of the most annoying things about being a newspaper or wire service reporter is that you typically have no control over your own headlines.

I can only assume that’s what happened to one hapless AP reporter, who filed a sober, well-researched, and touching story on the dangers of binge drinking on college campuses. A common thread of the story is the utilitarian dependence on hard liquor to get drunk fast — either to obviate the problem of procuring alcohol while under the legal drinking age or to attempt a feat of utter stupidity (as with the too-common convention of trying to drink 21 shots on your 21st birthday).

The headline of the story?

Drinking games prove deadly to college students

So the story is about how Beirut and Beer Die cause people to drink to their own death? Because my experience was that consuming small quantities of beer (5% alcohol by volume) over long periods of time (average Beirut game = roughly 4.2 hours) was less likely to get you drunk than, well, just about every other activity on the typical college campus.

Turns out the headline is pegged to this graph, which is about the sad death of Winona State University student Jenna Foellmi:

According to police reports, she had three beers during the day, then played beer pong — a drinking game — in the evening, and downed some vodka, too.

The story goes on to report that alcohol-related deaths on college campuses have almost doubled from 1999 to 2005. Some cases were similar to that of Brad McCue, who died after drinking 24 shots in two hours in 1998.

Drinking games are not mentioned again in the story.

The best part? This little note appended to the end:

(This version CORRECTS Walters’ title.)

I don’t know what Walters’ title was, but it must have been something.

Drinking games prove deadly to college students [AP]

Pax Inebriata: Berliner Weisse mit Schuss grun

Perry Ellis

Pax may be busy crossing Western Europe, but the man’s devotion never ceases. Straight from Berlin (and his new Nikon digital) comes this image, of a snifter of Berliner Weiss beer (sampled at the request of Perry Ellis, who was always curious about the brew but had no idea it resembled nuclear sludge. But that’s the Paxman for you, always ready to take one for the team):

Let’s hope Pax Arcana doesn’t come home with three eyes like Blinky the fish
after sampling this elixir.

We’ll have to wait for his return for a report on the good, the bad and the tangy, but for now we leave you with this, courtesy of Wikipedia:

“Berliner Weisse contains only around 2.8% vol of alcohol, making it one of the weakest German beers. It is top-fermented, slightly barm-clouded and relatively sour, so the taste of Berliner Weiße differs significantly from other German wheat beers. The optimal drinking temperature is 8 to 10 °C.

It is served in a large goblet with a straw. Due to the sour taste, it is commonly drunk mixed with raspberry (Himbeersirup), lemon (Zitronensirup), or woodruff (Waldmeistersirup) syrup, and is then called Weiße mit Schuss (“Weiße with a shot [of Syrup]“) creating Berliner Weiße rot, gelb or grün respectively. This mixed-drink is very refreshing in the hot summer months and is served throughout Berlin.”

Perry Inebriata: Oregon distillers can’t spell

Perry Ellis

They don’t know their Scotch from their whiskey, either, apparently.

    This would be whisky. A whole lot of malty, peaty whisky. Mmmmm, whisky.

From the Highball Distillery comes the welcome news that a group of 14 Beaver State distillers are starting a guild. Its reason for being? “[T]o promote Oregon spirits and to provide a forum for local distillers to communicate with one another.”

That’s all well and good, but judging from this piece in Willamette Week Online, those boozehounds might want to brush up on their nomenclature:

“‘It’s a gamble, but I have a lot of confidence in my skills,’ says co-owner and distiller Lee Medoff. ‘I don’t know how things will age in this climate. But I want everything to be local—water, woods, grains.’

Like his distillery, Medoff wants his ‘whisk(e)y’—the (e) refers to the fact that the pair hasn’t decided on the English or Scotch spelling of the liquor yet—to be Northwest-specific, something as distinguishable as scotch or bourbon.”

As any self-respecting sot like us knows, the only potable that can lay claim to the whisky spelling is Scoth. That is, the brown water made in Scotland (and only in Scotland).

So our vote for the guild’s first order of business is to sober up a tad and get your spelling straight. Then pack up some of that good stuff and send it back East. Pronto.

Seriously, guys. All this talk is making us thirsty

Best. Commencement speech. Ever.

Perry Ellis

P.J. O’Rourke, the man who said, “Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys,” tells it like it is. Again.

Wish he’d spoken at my college graduation.

Wait–I didn’t attend my college graduation. Never mind.

Put some balls in your drink next time

Pax Arcana

Anyone with a favorite drink also has a favorite preparation for the drink. Mine is a peaty single malt scotch with one small ice cube or small splash of cold water. Perry Ellis likes Evan Williams Manhattans with an equal dose of sweet vermouth and Licor 43. Father Scott likes to mix Kool-Aid powder, Amaretto, sour mix, and vodka with a chocolate Slurpee from 7-11. Fallen Angel only drinks flaming lighter fluid shot from a makeshift PVC flamethrower. Reverend E will pass tonight, he’s going out scooting later.

As discerning as our palates are, most of us spend very little energy considering ice.

Depending on your drink of choice, ice can make up a little to a lot of the total volume of your beverage. Hard core drinking enthusiasts swear that the quality of water used, size, and shape of the ice in your drink can make a big difference.

Via Boing Boing, a Japanese company called Taisin has created a bar gadget that will compress your ice cubes into perfect spheres. The theory is that rounded ice melts more slowly than cubed ice, allowing the sweet, sweet toxins in alcohol to soak into your liver before the drink gets too watered-down.

Trend spotter/blogger/possible marketer Rebecca Milner says the spherical ice ball machine is just doing its part to dispel myths about Japanese bartenders that I had no idea existed:

Contrary to what you might think, bartenders in Japan consistently take home at global competitions, not because of their flashy antics or strange new concoctions but because there is an intense devotion to making simply the best drink, of which perfect ice is an obvious component.

At this point in the post, I’d like to point out that I have not made one single reference to balls in your mouth, balls in my mouth, or balls in anyone else’s mouth. If anything, this article has refocused my energy away from the puerile and toward the sophisticated. To celebrate, when I get off from work today, I’m gonna get a strong highball glass and make myself a nice stiff one and just milk it for hours.

Perfect ice for perfect drinks [Trends in Japan]
Seamless ice-spheres for superior whiskey-rocks [Boing Boing]

Ohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboy

Perry Ellis

July 15 can’t come soon enough.

 

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Perry Ellis

Worst. News. Ever.

(Tip o’the tam, for the link and the header, to the Reverend E).