No more beer on this blog

I've made a few posts about beer on this blog. I won't be doing that any more. I didn't begin this blog to talk about random bullshit, I began it to talk primarily about my latest projects, whether writing, music, or otherwise.

But I'm not going to not talk about beer. At the moment I feel like writing about the subject. That's why I started a new blog, Celebrating the Suds, which will be devoted entirely to beer.

So give it a look. Subscribe. Follow it on Facebook. Yada yada yada. Cheers.

Small town nitwits try to harass writer out of teaching job

So here's a story that got me steamed. Two "think of the children!" nitwits, Deanna Stepp and Wendy Apple, of Middleburg, PA, are raising a stink because a high school teacher there also writes romance/erotic fantasy novels. The teacher of 33 years -- apparently well liked and respected by her students, according to a Facebook page in support of her -- writes on her own time, and does so under a pen name.

But according to these two moral crusaders:

“We are not questioning Mrs. Buranich’s teaching credentials. We are not even questioning her ability as a writer ... . What we’re questioning is that the two jobs are not compatible with one another.”

That's according to Stepp. Oh, and it gets better. According to the second member of the brain trust, Apple, what this teacher is doing “is unethical, totally unacceptable. Period. It just sort of sickens and saddens me to know everybody’s sort of looking at this like, hey, this is OK.”

Wow. I'm almost left speechless by this. And as anyone who knows me knows, I can go on and on and on and on.

I can't claim to have anything good to say about Deanna Stepp and Wendy Apple, of Middleburg, PA. I find their actions loathsome and can only assume those actions are a reflection of their overall character. Their comments are the kind of small-minded, utterly stupid thing you expect to hear only from the most low-class of people. To what extent this describes them as people I cannot say, as I don't know them, but that's certainly how I feel about their comments.

Yet that's not why I'm writing this. Instead, it's to suggest people offer their support to this teacher and writer. I'll be frank when I say I'm sure I wouldn't enjoy her work. That stuff just isn't for me. But that's not what is important. What is important is for her and her school district to know that she shouldn't be harassed out of a job she's held for more than three decades because two women have sticks lodged far up their nosy posteriors.

So spread the word. Tweet it. Go check out the Facebook page. I know it's not much, but it's something.

Because screw everything about this situation.

Visit my personal website or check out my independent editorial services at Your Awesome Editor.

BEER: Rochefort Trappist beers

For centuries, Trappist monks have been known for their outstanding brewing abilities. Monks in Belgium brew beer not only for their own consumption -- they are hearty, healthy beers -- but in order to pay for their way of life. Some of these beers are among the most sought after in the world, most notably beer from Westvleteren, which can only be purchased at the abby and only in small quantities. Others, like the world famous Chimay beer (brewed at Scourmont Abby), are widely available and are among the world's most praised beers.

Not too long ago, I had a chance to have the three beers of the Rochefort Brewery, one of the only seven true Trappist breweries in the world. This beer has been in production since 1595. So yeah, it's a piece (delicious) history.


Rochefort makes three beers, simply called 6, 8, and 10. They're relatively similar in style, with increasing levels of alcohol (from 7.5% ABv to 11.3%) and complexity being the major distinguishing factors. These beers are consistently among the top ranked beers in the world. Do they live up to the hype?

Absolutely.

Pouring the 6, the first thing you notice is the gorgeous color. It's closer to a deep orange brown than you see in the picture above, not unlike a forest floor in autumn. The 8 is similar, showing the brown of autumn leaves with just a faint hint of red. Not thick black like a porter, not golden brown like a brown ale. Brown like Mother Nature. It's quite beautiful. The 10 is a deep, murky brown with hints of red at the edges but otherwise totally opaque.

All three beers are bursting with carbonation, too. Even with a gentle pour they jump up with two or three fingers of head. So all in all, these beers are wonderful looking.

When I first opened the 6, though, I wondered if they'd meet expectations. I expect a world class beer to have a world class aroma, but at first I felt slightly underwhelmed by Rochefort 6. Maybe it's the big IPAs and Imperial Stouts I've been drinking this winter, almost all of which fill the nose with heady aromas, but this left me unimpressed. Smelled heavy with yeast, very sweet with hints of caramel. Not unpleasant, but also not alluring.

The 8, on the other hand, had an active and complex aroma. Hints of figs and raisins and just a touch of caramelized pears, with the damp, uplifting smell of a forest stream bank in the spring. Yeah, I'm serious. If you can imagine what a walk through old Europe would smell like, well, it smells like this.

The 10 was the most difficult to judge in the aroma department. The aroma is boozy similar to a big barleywine style ale. (Think of Sierra Nevada's Bigfoot.) If you pay close attention you get some hints of figs and caramelized apples, but the big, malty alcohol smell dominates. It's certainly a STRONG aroma. Whether or not it's a good aroma depends on your tastes. As it warms, the aroma mellows a bit, revealing wafts of malt and raisin. Much more pleasant closer to room temperature.

The taste of each was just as complex and nuanced. The 6 got better with each sip. It tasted like a rich pastry bread in beer form, all sorts of bready and malty and delicious. A little sweet but subdued; caramel flavors but in perfect balance with everything else going on in the beer; touches of raisin and the like. By the end what had started as a decent but not mind-blowing beer turned out to be a stunner.

The 8 was more complex and yet oddly more subtle, too. The taste isn't overpowering or explosive. It starts innocuous, a slight gulp of beerish liquid riding on the heady aroma, but the middle quickly broadens into Earthy, vaguely nutty flavors with malt, caramel, molasses, and touches of fig, raisin and plum.

If it's got a fault it's that the 9.2% ABV is more upfront than many crafts manage to accomplish these days. It's not an invisible alcohol. While the Rochefort 6 drinks so smooth it's frightening, you can TELL this one is a big, potent beer. In these days of 10 percenters that drink like they're 6 or 7 percent, I'm sorry to say that this is a minor setback.

With the 10 you get nutty caramel and pumpernickel and other Earthy brown breads in the taste. It starts mild, then expands into a yeasty burst of pleasingly musty flavors before finishing with an alcohol-laden shimmer of mildly sweet breads and dried fruits. Like the 8, it also has a big, strong alcohol taste. A BIG alcohol taste. Many American crafts manage to meet or even exceed this ABV without the alcohol coming to the fore. Not here. Here it wants to arm wrestle you. American craft lovers have been spoiled with easy-to-drink big beers; the Belgians aren't playing that game. This is not for the faint of heart.

(With both the 8 and the 10, I suspect they age WONDERFULLY and will taste less boozy and more complex after a year or so. I'll find out in about a year; I already have a bottle of each stashed away.)

All in all these were incredible beer experiences. They'll run you $5 to $8 a bottle, but if you love great beer it's well worth treating yourself, even if only once.

A few appearances from around the web

Joe Valdez over at This Distracted Globe quoted me in his write-up of Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes. Thanks, Joe. The quote comes from my review of the Criterion Collection DVD release, which you can read here. Purchase the (awesome) DVD here.

Over on the Bibliophile Stalker blog, there is a review/overview of the issue of Weird Tales in which my "commendable piece," Whispers of the Old Hag, appeared. Thanks, Charles. The issue also has a listing at Locus Online.

Speaking of listings, Pictureshowman.com lists A Year of Hitchcock with upcoming books on the History of Motion Pictures. Looks like we're in some fine company.

While we're on A Year of Hitchcock, I found a good source for tracking down deals on the book. The book's listing at isbndb.com includes links to a number of vendors, as well as price comparisons. Very handy tool! You can also watch the book's official website for similar information. Keep in mind, a paperback edition is coming this fall.

Someone at PaperBackSwap.com decided to completely lift a quickly dashed-off book review posted to Amazon I did. Errr, thanks? She did credit me, at least -- she didn't for most of the other reviews she lifted -- but I think I may have preferred otherwise. I can't claim to take Amazon reviews with deep seriousness. They're no different than the stuff you'd post to a message board or Facebook for fun.

For you comic book fans, I contributed to the Marvel Essentials FAQ. It was so long ago I have very little recollection of what I did, but look! It's my name! (I'm sure I did nothing more than provide a tiny tidbit of nerd information.)

So there you have it. It's my "me! me! me!" post for April. I get to do that now and then, don't I?

PLUG: The Work of Rick Lundeen

The Work of Rick Lundeen

Rick Lundeen has been creating comics for years and years and years. Fact is, I can't even begin to list them all. a storyboard artist by trade, Rick fills his spare time with self-published comics. He's been doing it for a long time. He does science fiction, superheroes, fantasy stories, magical realism, and much more - and they're always really damn good. He's a brilliant storyteller and I can tell you from experience that he's brimming with ideas. Forget about the fact that working with Rick has always been a pleasure (we also did this story together), I just plain like his work.








My favorite is probably We Three Kings, an excellent dystopian story of corruption and rebellion. You can see more of his work here, including a Dr. Who story. A large number of the books he's done are available at this link. I highly recommend them.

Say, that's a really good line!

I'm paging through a copy of Stuff Every Husband Should Know that landed on my desk here at the office, just to see what I think of the book now that a year has passed since I wrote it, and made myself laugh with this line from the chapter What Happens in the Delivery Room:

You might cry. It's OK. Men cry, sometimes about things other than the World Series. This is as good a time as any.

That's funny. I'm allowed to say it's funny, right? Because I think it's funny.

MUSIC: walls of sound, noise, and me

For most people, my m2 music project is an unlistenable collection of self-indulgent wankery. They might be right. I can't claim it's particularly musical or tuneful. For me, though, it's very personal. It's something I've been doing for a long time, but only recently for others to hear.

For years I've recorded music like this for me and me alone. There is something very cathartic about getting lost in a wall of sound. I'd been doing it since I got my first guitar in 1992 or so. Most of the time I never even recorded it. I'd just plug in and let wail. It was ear-splittingly ugly -- and I loved it.

The first recording I can remember was a 45-minute piece made up of layered feedback. I didn't have a four-track at the time (this was in 1993), but I could sorta do multi-track recording by plugging a pair of Walkman earphones into the mic jack of my cheap bookcase stereo. It was one of those dual tape decks where you could dub tapes, and if you dubbed a tape while also recording through the mic you could layer things on top of one another. It was really rough and you had no real control, but it was something.

So one afternoon I took a tape -- I remember it vividly -- which had R.E.M.'s Green on one side (written with green ink) and Document on the other (written in orange ink). Plugged in my shitty yellow guitar into my shitty Gorilla practice amp, cranked it way up, and let feedback drone and shift and swell for an entire side of the tape. Then I rewound and did it again, layering a new set of feedback on top of the old. I did this maybe four or five or six times.

It was probably unlistenable, but for me, at least, it was damn near meditation music. It was soothing. Relaxing. Think of the last few minutes of the Smashing Pumpkins "Drown," but without drums or bass. I listened to it quite a bit until I discovered this Flying Saucer Attack collaboration. (That's around when I discovered that "real bands" actually did this stuff, too, and that others actually liked it.)

I have no idea whatever became of that tape.

In fact, the vast majority of those early recordings are long since gone. I once had a shoebox filled with a few hours worth of four-track tapes that were primarily either early noise music, or recordings of me and the guy I did Slumbersigh with making walls of noise in my dad's basement. This was around 1994 and 1995. We'd go down there, drink a load of Sam Adams, and drive the neighbors crazy with wall-rumbling roars.

Sadly, Only two or three clips survive from those days. You can a very brief surviving clip in "Asshole" from Music To Trip To: The 1994 Xmas Single, the first cassette of music I ever gave out. (You can download the whole thing in this zip file, including bonus "songs.")

A track that sort of shows what kind of ear-splitting feedback I used to do is "Forgetting Prozac" from that same tape. I say "sort of" because it wasn't meant to be a bunch of layered tones, it was meant to be the abrasive, annoying, chaotic end to a "real" song. It's taken from the end of a joke song I did called "Fat Boys Need Love, Too." It was a goof (on someone who didn't deserve to be goofed), and at the end of the song I flailed around with my guitar and made a bunch of noise. This track is the end of that song. I no longer have a recording of the song itself, only a few minutes of the ending feedback.

When I finally did with the first m2 record in 1998 and sent it out to the world -- I first "released" it on cassette and CD, and years later on mp3 -- it was on a lark. Some obscure college station in Arizona actually played some tracks during its overnight experimental music show. That was cool. But I considered it a one-time thing during a time when I was doing a lot of noisy experimentation. Didn't do anything else like it for close to 10 more years.

In 2007, I decided to go ahead and release some more m2 music. The result was Eight Times Alone. Amazingly, people liked it. Not many, of course, but people who appreciate tones and drones seemed to enjoy it. I just kept on recording from there, kept putting stuff out there for people to hear, and haven't stopped since.

The thing is, for me these records are cathartic. Behind all that fuzz and the bizarre song titles and vague looking album art, they mean something to me. Some of them tell stories. Others are experiments in sound. ALL of them are an important part of the way I vent things from my system.

And yeah, I do listen to them. A lot, actually. Maybe it's weird, but I put these records on and get lost in them. They're all recorded spontaneously, always improvised, never planned out, always unexpected, always the first take, so in that respect it's pretty easy to maintain a distance from the music since it tends to pour out all on its own. Once recorded, I could not replicate these pieces if I tried. I may have created it, but in an odd way it's new to me.

So my tones, drones, and walls of sound and noise? Now you know.

Stuff Every Husband Should Know reviews are in

While I enjoy receiving feedback on my work, both good and bad -- criticism can be helpful -- I don't generally make it a point to seek out reviews. However, some reviews of Stuff Every Husband Should Know have been sent my way, so I thought I'd share them.

Phillyburbs.com called it a "must-have guide" featuring "priceless practical wisdom that all wives hope their husbands possess."

Mom Central called it "the rulebook to the game that husbands have been playing for thousands of years."

A husband and wife duo from the Ledger-Enquirer bickered (playfully) over some of the tips in one chapter.

And a quirky blogger said the book is "the perfect gift for the man new to wed or this upcoming Fathers Day."

My wife would laugh hysterically at those comments, of course. She has to live with me! But it's gratifying to know the initial reception is leaning towards the positive. If you haven't picked it up yet, jump over to my website for more information and purchase links. (And yes, it is available for Kindle.)

My new book, STUFF EVERY HUSBAND SHOULD KNOW, is out today

I've blogged on and off about the project I tackled last spring, and am pleased to announce that my second book, Stuff Every Husband Should Know (Quirk Books 2011), is out in stores TODAY.

Hooray!

"Husband" is a fun, pocket-sized book that will make a great gift. It's filled with all sorts of great stuff my wife wishes I actually did. :-)

The book is available at Amazon (including a Kindle edition), Barnes & Noble (including a Nook edition), Target, Borders, Booksamillion, and fine bookstores and gift shops everywhere.

Hey reddit!

BEER: Founder's KBS (Kentucky Breakfast Stout)

I don't intend to use this blog to talk about beer all that often, but sometimes you've got to speak up and say, "My god, this stuff is amazing!"

And yes indeed, the beer at the focus of this post, Founder's Kentucky Breakfast Stout, aka KBS, is amazing. Hard to find because the once-a-year brew sells out so fast, but well worth the trouble of tracking it down.



There is a reason why Ratebeer rates it a world class beer and ranks it as one of the top 10 beers in the world based on thousands of reviews. It's quite simply one of the most complex, rich, and flavorful beers you'll ever have. Folks who have only experienced the usual Bud-Miller-Coors style beers are probably unaware that beer can be like this.

I was lucky to even get it. I had been bugging the guys at my local liquor store two months ahead of time. "Do you think you'll be able to get the KBS? Please set a few bottles aside for me!" Turns out my entire state only got 120 cases. Otherwise good liquor stores were #25 or #30 on their distributor's list to get a case ... and those distributors had maybe four cases to dish out. Yikes.

But my shop did get it, and they set aside two bottles for me. (Few shops sold this in the four-packs it comes in. Instead, most imposed one- or two-bottle limits on customers.) I'm glad they did. This stuff was a treat.

This is an imperial stout brewed with huge amounts of coffee and chocolate, both of which are very much a part of this heady, chewy brew's taste and aroma. It's rich and dark and very full-bodied. Founders sends the taste into the stratosphere, though, when they cave age it for a year inside oak bourbon barrels. The result is a beer loaded with flavors that all compete for center stage without crowding one another out.

KBS has atrong, up-front bourbon taste with hints of vanilla in the aroma. Give it a whiff and you'd almost think you're smelling a dense liquor. It's a beer through and through, though. After the initial burst of bourbon at the start of your sip, coffee and chocolate rise up in the middle, with hints of vanilla working to counter the mocha taste. The balance is perfect. As you finish your sip you're left with a lingering, oaky bourbon finish.

All in all, it wasn't just a beer, it was an experience. If by some amazing chance you see some, grab it. Otherwise, be ready to act fast when next year's batch is released. It's already in barrels.