There Were No Blackcurrants In The Mayflower
It's difficult to find time to immerse one's self in the arcana of The Arena Warz, when situated several thousand miles away, in a place where the streets flow with Ribena. It's even more difficult when communing with Ur-bloggers and Denton's minions.
But I'm more than a little sad to hear that the Brooklyn Beer boycott had come to this:
“The boycott is on,” said Freddy’s manager Don O’Finn. “I have to find the right beer to replace it on the tap beer system, fix the beer list sign, and then Brooklyn is out.”
O’Finn felt confident the decision would appease his customers, even though Brooklyn Lager is a top selling beer. The bar is, after all, the hub for Ratner opponents.
It's probably inevitable that a bar that would be bulldozed to make way for a beer concession would not be that keen on selling the beer in question. But I'd hoped, secretly, that people would just stop drinking it and sock it to the man in a quiet and undignified fashion.
Still, quiet and dignified is probably not the best way to appeal to public opinion. And it cannot be denied that avoiding drinking Brooklyn Beer seems to have attracted public attention in a way that few of the other anti-Arena protests have.
Most comical is the counter-boycotter referenced in the above article. He feels, in a way that has been nagging at me from time to time, that a boycott might be disproportionate, and decides to drink Brooklyn Lager while wearing a Brooklyn Lager t-shirt. That's got the makings of a classic noise machine right there. Unless he looks like a bear, in which case Mr. Hindy might ask his friend to stop, I hope.
You might call the above words space-filling. You'd be wrong. They're an epic and inspiring tale of struggle against one of the more unpleasant jet-lag-complicated hangovers I've suffered in recent weeks. There was gin and cigars and taxis and two fine hostelries - The White Stag and the Ritz Carlton's piano bar.
Didn't we used to be rock pig? Yeah, that's right.