They're heavy-handed. That's why I ain't got much use for prison guards, college administrators, liturgists, and revenuers. If you want to see the latter in action, check out this Dukes-of-Hazzard-like story. It's a one-sided account in favor of the little guy, but it rings true. It's about a guy that sells collector bottles of whiskey in Lynchburg, Tennessee. He did it without a license. Revenuers accused him of bootleggin'. The revenuers' argument appears to be a stretch, and it doesn't even answer the larger question: Why should bootlegging be illegal in the first place? If you see all sorts of reasons bootlegging ought to be illegal and a guy like this bottle collector ought to be punished, you might want to consider a call to become a liturgist.
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Aside: Old joke. What's the difference between a terrorist and liturgist? Answer: You can negotiate with a terrorist.
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Atlanta needs more water. It turns out that an 1818 survey incorrectly placed the Georgia line just south of the Tennessee River. Georgia is suing to get the land back, and thereby get access to the Tennessee River's water. Why is this newsworthy? Because by pushing the state line north, two Tennessee towns will be sucked into a dry Georgia county. By making Atlanta wet, these two towns go dry. Residents say they'd have to drive 40 miles to get a beer. I say, "People in Atlanta: Stop flushing the toilet so much."
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Doesn't surprise me: Criminals fear being banned from the pub more than facing the courts, a North Wales police inspector has said. He said: “When they are arrested and we tell them they are off to court they shrug their shoulders, but tell them they are banned from the pubs and they start to plead with you.
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I used to drink a lot of Foster Lager. It was always a joy to open up one of those over-sized blue cans, knowing I had four minutes of drinking bliss ahead of me. The stuff is pretty pricey, so when I moved out of my parents' house after high school, my Foster consumption slowed to a trickle. It would've slowed even quicker if I had to buy this stuff: Specialty Foster's lager at $60 a bottle (you don't even get the nifty oil can).
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Six Pack Joe is one of my weekly beer blogging stops. The site is limited, but once in awhile, I found something great, like this description of a beer called "Midnight Wit": "This Belgian-style wheat beer is like a hooker who wants to marry you. It saunters up to you as if she's just there to douse the heat, then gets down with all kinds of tangy spice and yeasty drama." That analogy slayed me for some reason. It also made me want to find some pictures (for some reason):
