Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Helloooooo Rheingold!

The next few weeks are shaping up to be panic in dayjobland. I'm almost tempted to only post nights, but then something like this comes up and chokes me up. Via nolandgrab I learn that the Brooklyn Brewery, possibly my favourite maker of alcohol anywhere, is run by a cruel, cruel man.

From the Brooklyn Eagle (which will make you register, I'm afraid):

Steve Hindy, proprietor of Brooklyn Brewery, threw a small party in his “party room” to celebrate the prospects of the Nets coming to Brooklyn. The game was shown on a big-screen TV. Hot dogs, potato chips and popcorn were served and, of course, four kinds of Brooklyn Beer created just a few yards away.

Hindy is a sponsor of the Nets in Jersey, his beer is sold at the Meadowlands, and he hopes to be a sponsor when a B replaces the NJ in two to three years.

Now I will confess that I do not know this Hindy gentleman at all. He might not be Father Christmas, and might be a wicked, evil man who happens to make great beer. But as far as I'm aware, he's a good Brooklyn resident, albeit one, as you can discover elsewhere in the piece, that needs city approval to move his bottling operations, that obviously wants a beer concession at the Nets arena and likes the branding attached to the team.

So we will have to assume that he understands that he's supporting moving an arena to an area that doesn't want it, and contains a huge number of twenty-something professionals that guzzle his wares like crazy. But we will lay these arguments down in an open letter to Mr. Hindy, one that we will not deliver, since we are unable to put our real name on it. Plus, you might find the hyperlinks useful.

Dear Mr. Hindy,

I have been a drinker of your fine beers for five years now. I drank my first pint of Brooklyn Lager at the MacDougal Street Ale House in September 2000. The first time I lost control of my faculties (at least in this fair city) was after a night spent drinking your fine, if rather strong, Monster Ale at dba.

Since then I have pimped your beer to friends and acquaintances in such varied locations as Covent Garden, Chapel Allerton and Singapore. I would almost be happy if you enjoyed the same kind of success as Sam Adams, although many of my victims have found your wares a little feisty. But you have worked hard for your success, and I have been until now happy to act as an unpaid ambassador for your products.

In the past week, I have held a party which would have not been complete without a crate of Brooklyn Lager. I spent Friday night at your brewery, where I enjoyed the company, cheap ale and atmosphere immensely. I went on to the Spuyten Devil, where we did not behave as well, but I would in no way blame your excellent Saison for that turn of events.

But I digress. No more Brooklyn Lager for me. Well, after I finish that crate, anyway. Your support for moving the Nets arena to the Atlantic Yards site is wrong on so many levels. First, it alienates large numbers of people in the Borough, many of whom are natural customers. While residents of Williamsburg may have become resigned to huge skyscrapers growing up amongst them, those living in the vicinity of the Nets project have become very alarmed at the scale of the development.

More importantly, the plan calls for the demolition of a bar that sells consistently drinkable Brooklyn Lager, at a very reasonable price. I refer, of course, to Freddy's, and your connivance at its destruction will repel every discerning drinker in the P Heights neighbourhood. Please think for moment how many cases and barrels you are shipping to the Metrotech Center right now. And then imagine how many you will shift to these skyscrapers, leaving aside, for one moment, the stadium windfall.

While I'm sure Marty Markowitz is a more effective pitchman for your beer than he is a Borough President, I urge you to distance yourself from this disastrous project. In the mean time, I will be switching to Rheingold's inferior product, as well as imports. This will hurt me more than it hurts you.

Yours sincerely

A stadium hatin' drinker writing under a silly assumed name

[UPDATE: Hello, Missouri English 4040 blog readers. The magic of Sitemeter alerted me to your presence. So, are you anywhere near a Galen, Missouri? Does it exist? I have been reading of such a place in a Jonathan Carroll book.]
[UPDATE PART DEUX: Oh, and hello again nolandgrab readers. Walking from 6th Ave to S. Portland to F Greene Park, the Yards looked eerily beautiful. But then the snow, it does that to everything]


At 2:49 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

RE: Jonathan Carroll's THE LAND OF LAUGHS (a very great novel, as are all by Carroll), he recently said in an interview on his website that "Galen, Missouri" is a conbination of two small towns near St. Louis-- Pacific and Eureka. When he wrote the book, he simply put the two together and called it Galen, which apparently has some sort of classical meaning to it. Well worth reading Carroll. He'll change the way you look at the world.

Jennifer Holbert

At 9:20 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I almost wish I hadn't seen that. I love Brooklyn Lager and Pilsner. Rheingold is flavorless piss by comparison.

At 10:15 PM, Blogger Gringcorp said...

It's a delightful beer, so there's nothing more unpleasant than having to stop drinking it.


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