Making your tummy warm since 1958 but now it's trying to kill you!

Fear the noodle!

Instant noodle soups have gained sudden notoriety, because apparently NPR's Planet Money couldn't find any other news fit to report on, because said delicious treats pose a potential threat to hungry people.

When will the sensationalism stop?

Of course ramen, Cup o' Noodles (the former name), and anything else you add boiling water to poses a potential threat. Swiss Miss better watch her pretty little ass because the wolves are looking for any ol' carcass to throw to a lawsuit-hungry audience.

Most of the injuries that happen with the instant noodle brands happen to children. Anything that hurts a child is awful, but...is it really the styrofoam cup's fault? (Insert Seth Meyer's voice here...Really!?) Do companies really need to revamp their whole system in order to adapt to society's lack of practical knowledge and coordination...Really!?

Throughout my lifetime I have spilled countless ounces of dangerous liquids on kitchen floors, car consoles, and boat decks but have never ever lost a drop of delicious broth from an instant meal. Do I have the coordination of a Cirque Du Soleil performer? I should say not. I was just taught to keep hot liquids on a level surface. While many lessons I learned just kind of vanished into nothingness that basic knowledge of be very careful with stuff that can burn the heck out of you sort of stuck with me. Simple right?

Yes, it is simple. Why does something that seems so simple become news? I have an idea...

Poor parenting. If, as reported some years ago, elementary school children are having oral sex parties then I'm led to believe that some practical lessons aren't being taught in the home. Why are the instant noodle companies being called out and not the parents who didn't properly teach their children how to handle hot liquids? Yes, accidents happen even when a parent is around but if Cup o Noodles burns become newsworthy could there be an underlying issue?

Instant noodles have been around since 1958. I guess the lesson of putting dangerous liquids on a level surface, which was routinely taught in the houses and elementary schools I stepped foot in, has been replaced by App Development for the IPhone and Filmmaking. Your sixth grader is a whiz at his or her Iphone and can edit a 10 minute short film but the poor thing cannot pour burning water into a styrofoam cup without needing a skin graph. Why are children the majority of burn victims in this modern epidemic? If instant noodles are the origin of such newsworthy finger pointing why wasn't this reported before? Did Planet Money approach the story from the best angle? How many more questions can I pose to you, my faithful and loving audience?

For most of my life I have enjoyed watching the news. When CNN and The Weather Channel came along I thought they were two of the greatest inventions ever. When I lived in Charleston, S.C. my buddies and I would spend hours in front of the television watching hurricanes move up the coast and planning our surf outings. 9/11 had me glued to CNN. I thought their reporting on everything that was going on was stellar. Unfortunately, something has happened along the way and no news now means need news.

This summer there wasn't an media outlet that didn't do anything it could to instill impending peril in the lives of millions when covering the earthquake on the East Coast and Hurricane Irene a few days later. Wolf Blitzer and Jim Cantore reached Marty Bass level on the annoyance scale when they focused more on an Escape From New York type strategy rather than getting to the real story that was about to occur in New Jersey and Vermont. The best thing to happen throughout the whole coverage was when the guy in Virginia Beach mooned the camera as the reporter was trying to stir up the doom factor. That naked behind was the best message sent to contemporary journalists and the timing was priceless. YouTube it if you haven't seen it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cdFjMQa7No

Now if I want to be informed I go to the newspaper. Network news seems to have lost a lot of its integrity. As a kid I thought Walter Cronkite was one of the most honest men I had ever laid eyes on yet never met. Peter Jennings dying of lung cancer did more to help me quit smoking than watching the suffering of those closer to me. I used to love hearing both the good and the bad from well-informed professional journalists. I find it very interesting that I, like many others, now turn on Comedy Central if I want to watch good reporting. Hopefully NPR doesn't spiral down the same path as many other news agencies.

More about → Making your tummy warm since 1958 but now it's trying to kill you!

Rahm says you play you pay...now stop crying about it

Some residents of Chicago are up in arms over the 'nickel and dime' increases that are to result from Mayor Emanuel's new budget. The Mayor could have taken the easy way out and just raised taxes across the board. What is he supposed to do to try and pull the city out of the mire of debt brought on by past administrations? Paying more for anything right now is the last thing anybody wants to read about in the newspaper or hear about on the evening news but it is the reality. I wish I could come up with a plan that would fix all the economic woes but my theatre arts degree doesn't quite qualify me or aide me to do so.
But I do have some opinions on the matter...

Fines are going up if you don't keep your yard neat and you park illegally. If you don't do what you are supposed to do you will be fined a heftier sum than last year. Obviously you could afford to pay those fines last year because you did those things. You broke laws. You let that abandoned lot you picked up as investment in a dilapidated neighborhood get all overgrown and trash ridden because you were too lazy to go out there and keep your sh*t tight. Now you have to straighten up the property and get rid of the rats that have invaded your yard and the property of the neighbors who might live nearby or you will pay the city a fine. Good show, Mr. Mayor!!

If you don't park according to the way the law is written you will have to pay more. So park the right way and don't worry about it. If you push the issue and maybe duplicate a residential zone parking sticker 4 times in one week, you could get caught. (My record is 3 times in one week!) You get caught; you pay up. Where is the wrong in that?

Here are my two favorites: fines go up for vehicles impounded for arrests and parking in handicap spots. There should be no limits to these fines. If you get caught driving under the influence you should pay at least 5000 dollars to get your car back. So what if it takes you a year to pay it all off in order to get your car back. You don't deserve to drive anyway. You put other peoples' lives in danger. Chicago has a wonderful public transportation system that you should have taken home after you drank 8 pints of stout at the office Christmas party.

If you park in a handicap spot, even if it's for 5 seconds just so you could run in and return that movie to the red box you should be caned as well as fined 500 dollars (or whatever the current fine may be). If you drive your grandmama's car to Game Stop and she stays home but you use her placard to park in a handicap spot then you should be fined, caned, and have your car impounded for an arrest. Don't cheat the system and you do not have a thing to worry about. If you do decide to go for it, well, I hope your wallet is thicker than mine. Are you that lazy that you can't walk from the far end of the parking lot to the store? Liter and parking in handicap spots rub me the wrong way. I don't think there should be any limits to the fines imposed on people who break these two laws. Laziness is a great reason to jack up the fines.

People are also fretting about raising the taxes on alcohol and tobacco. Raise those taxes all you want I say. Neither of those are necessities; they are luxuries. If you want a six pack of Bud then a little pinch of Skoal after that is your choice so don't bitch about paying the price, whatever it is. If you don't like it go have a can of "pop." Oh, "pop" is taxed too. A delicious can of Dr. Pepper is not needed to make it through the day. Water will suffice and it is better for you; but who needs that...

Eli Mongrel and Arthur Brown have to have special licenses if they are to remain in tact and reside in homes within the city limits. That's the law so it has to be followed or I'll get a ticket walking them through the neighborhood. They have their nuts licenses. (Thank God they are Gracie's dogs so she has to pay that stupid fee.)

The election of Mayor Emanuel is by no means akin to the Second Coming. There are the red-light and speed cameras. Those means are just plain totalitarianism. There are some police officers who get so comfortable in their jobs that they gain a tremendous amount of weight and therefore are unable to police the city at 100%. Can these select few effectively patrol the streets and enforce the new curfew rules? Hell no; they can't catch some speedy crumbsnatchers but they can sit behind a hedge and run a radar gun. Dehumanizing law enforcement is flat out wrong. What's wrong with assigning police officers to spend a majority of the time near schools? Is it that much more cost effective to put in cameras rather than have a human element in sight of children, parents, and perps?  The Mayor would do the city a better service by getting rid of machines and improving his methods of communicating with the Chicago Police Department.

Cities and states are in turmoil. There is no way around having to suffer the consequences other than expatriating. For the most part I am a fan of Mayor Emanuel. While not perfect, and what politician is, he is looking at alternative resources to collect money for the city. He is going to penalize people for trying to beat the system. Good! That is where the money should come from. I have broken many a law in my time EXCEPT for parking in a handicap spot. The thought has never crossed my mind. Each time I pushed the envelope, well most every time, I knew that if I got caught I, and my parents, would have to suffer some consequences. (Sorry again, Mom.) Mayor Emanuel and the city of Chicago sure missed out on me not growing up in Cook County. I'm sure a few roads in Virginia and Maryland were re-paved due to my indiscretions. I am confident that all the rule breakers in Chicago will rise to the occasion and some of those potholes on North Avenue will be paved in the very near future...or Mayor Emanuel will take his family to Barbados for Christmas.

More about → Rahm says you play you pay...now stop crying about it

I'd do it all over again tomorrow...or maybe the day after

Before the game even started I was threatened. I was threatened with a four-hour tailgate, unlimited chicken tenders, a case of Victoria beer on ice, and plates of chocolate-iced brownies. In my past I have never been known for my stamina when it comes to staying awake past the tailgate. I have missed many a game-winning drive due to the fact that I just can't hang. While revelers run through the streets celebrating a victory by the home team I have slept soundly in the back of a Buick or a Tahoe with Sharpie graffiti all over my face. These days it's different; there are kids around. One must act one's age. For most of Saturday into Saturday night I did pretty well. I maintained my composure during the tailgate and enjoyed meeting some new people and catching up with old friends. Then it came time to go inside the stadium. I felt the possible effect of the Victoria's as I weaved through the other thousands of people heading in the same direction.

The threats did not stop once everyone was settled into the skybox overlooking Williams-Brice Stadium. Plates of wings, mac n cheese, and cookies stood next to handles of Mt. Gay rum and Glenlivet scotch. Trying to maintain my wits grew even more difficult. At least there weren't any kids around. The young ones were with their Grandfather allowing the group a few minutes to cut loose. I took advantage of the situation and went with the Glenlivet. A younger and dumber version of me would have gone with the rum. That always proved to be disaster in the past. My big-boy pants hadn't fallen off yet.

As I stared out over the stands watching the pre-game festivities my buddy Daniel's wife Laura came over and stood next to me. I thought she was going to ask how I was doing or catch me up on some fun stories about Carlysle and Ellie but the look on her face told me something completely different. I wondered what I had done wrong. Before I could speak up Laura pointed a finger at me and narrowed her eyes in an almost threatening manner. "Whatever you do do not take your eyes of that {cart}." I looked over and somebody was pushing a cart out on the field. The cart was not as appealing as the cheerleaders being tossed in the air but as a guest in her home, needless to say, I obeyed.

Amidst all the electricity in the air before a South Carolina vs. Clemson football game it was hard to remain focused on the rickety old cart being dragged around by a couple guys who looked like they had taken part in the larger end of a Makers Mark bottle the night before. When Laura wasn't looking I let my gaze travel all over the stadium because what I was witnessing was incredible. There is nothing like an SEC football game. The enthusiasm of the fans draws you in and the talent of the players seals the deal. When the cart reached the middle of the field, out of my periphery, I saw Laura point at me again. I watched as smoke poured out of the top of the cart and the intensity of the music increased. Everyone in the stadium, including me, waved a white towel over their head. After the crowd reached "frenzy" level the curtains surrounding the cart dropped and out of nowhere appeared Cocky, the Gamecocks mascot. "Frenzy" went up a notch to "berserk." And it was awesome...

There cannot be a better experience in the world than putting on Cocky's outfit then running around the field and through the stands at Williams-Brice Stadium. Cocky points a wing and people go crazy. Taylor Swift has to spend hours writing a song to do what Cocky does with the lift of one furry spur. I was ready to do cartwheels in the skybox.

When I arrived in Columbia I didn't have much energy. Such was no longer the case once the game started. I felt like I could keep on tailgating and enjoyed a nice scotch or two during the first half. Being a much wiser par-taker these days I switched to beer for the second half. However, things might have caught up with me a little bit since no one else dropped a beer during the 4th quarter and broke glass all over the floor by the buffet. Then there was the part where my navigation skills faltered and nine-year-old Ellie Bug had to lead me by hand out of the stadium. It was near midnight and I was still doing fairly well but maybe the F-bomb in front of the kids and Doc on the drive home wasn't a very good idea. I think Daniel and Laura understood my excitement not being used to such an experience and were able to cut me some slack. They did say I brought South Carolina some luck and would be invited back. I think they were serious...

So it's Monday and it's time to get back to the grind. Getting the equilibrium back proves to be quite difficult this morning. Most of last week was spent in the car so I feel like it is only now that I can sit back and reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. There is a lot. All the people that have put up with me are at the top of the list. One day I will buy you all some sandwiches but for know let me just say an honest and most heart-felt thank you for all that you all have done. I could say more but I think it might be time for a nap. Go Cocks!

More about → I'd do it all over again tomorrow...or maybe the day after

The Downward Spiral Continues

Traffic has come to a standstill on one of the busiest streets in Chicago. Southbound Michigan Avenue has been shut down by those who wish to Occupy Wall Street. People sit in their cars and tap their steering wheels in frustration. They clench their jaws and grind their teeth unaware of the root canal that will take away their vacation money in a few years. Children wait at home for their mother or father to return from work. Meals need to be made, medicines need to be administered, and help is required for homework to be completed. Not everybody who went to work today holds a membership card to the 1% Club. Some of those people on their way home sit on some form of public transportation because they cannot afford a car. At 6:35 pm they sit and they wait. Their day has been long. Their hands hurt. Hope for a better existence died out long ago yet they continue to trudge back and forth to work because they have to. People we don't even know exist depend upon the employed member of society to work the 40 hour work week. Every penny in that paycheck has already been spoken for. These are the people suffering tonight.

Those lucky few of the 1% left the office around lunchtime if they even showed up at all. Ivanka Trump recently posted a picture from the Bahamas to her Twitter account. Tough day at the office for that entrepreneur. If you are rich enough to be in the 1% you can afford to work from home. If you are a 1%-er you aren't anywhere near the occupied streets tonight.

Today's Inner  Monologue of the 1%-er:
Streets are blocked by angry people who didn't go to work today...I guess I'll go out to the mailbox get the Wall Street Journal send out a few emails then go to the club for lunch. Oh well. But damn...I did want to stop by Macy's and pick up a few cashmere items. I guess I'll do it next week after the streets have cleared. (pause to watch a few minutes of Fox news) Wow, it looks cold outside but I need to find out what trends might affect the market today.
(Press intercom button here) "Rochester"
(voice filtered through intercom) "Yes, sir?"
(Press intercom button again) "I'm ready for my paper and some coffee."
(voice filtered through intercom) "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

What is this protest doing for America? Voices have been heard but what is getting accomplished? In my humble unemployed opinion the wrong people are being affected by the rabble. Those that wish for their voices to be heard might want to pull out the writings of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. one more time and re-read his essay on nonviolent resistance. Take his words to heart, put them into action, then see what reaction results. Every action has its consequences and how far these consequences extend reach further that most of these protestors have the ability to foresee.

I feel terrible for the hard working people just trying to get home tonight. Those occupying the middle of Michigan Avenue obviously have no concern for others. There is a greater good that has become lost upon those marching down the street. Greed has ruined this country but it is not an excuse to ruin the evening of the undeserved. Show me the video of the person struck in traffic raising their fists in solidarity or beeping their horn with glee and I will erase every word of this opinion. For now though, it feels good to pop off...

More about → The Downward Spiral Continues

Am I Barrel Aging Too?

Over the years my friends and acquaintances have chided me for having no palette when it comes to choosing beer for any and all occasions. While packing for a NASCAR race in Charlotte, NC my boss handed me a hundred dollar bill with the one condition being that I couldn't spend it all on Budweiser. He and others who were accompanying me on the excursion had been spending evenings and an awful lot of their per diem on beers with words in their titles such as: Lambic, Dogfish Head, Dopplebock, and Lagunitas. To thirty-eight-year-old me this was a terrible waste of money. At 42 I might be starting to see the light as my tastes have expanded and now include some of those fancy labels that require a steady paycheck (or should) to enjoy.

A few weeks ago a rep from Chicago Beverage came to the Old Town Ale House and dropped off a six pack of tasters from the Argus brewery, which is located on the south side of Chicago. The names on the bottles were all weird and those of us doing the tasting had a hard time keeping track of what was in the yay and nay column. Four of the beers were under consideration. One wasn't bad but the final candidate, which was some wheat mess that tasted like spit, was immediately discarded. The winner was the Argus Pegasus IPA. This fine beverage now has its place in the cooler at the Ale House and sells for a bargain price of five dollars. The people who try it love it. I tried it and loved it. That is when I started to notice a change or as my friends have put it - a long overdue maturity. Ever since the Argus tasting, I have been turning my nose up at traditional flavors that have so dutifully quenched my thirst for quite a few years.

The first time I ever tried beer I loved it. The first time I remember trying it was at Pope's Tavern circa 1977. One afternoon my parents took me along to see a musician friend of theirs named Drew who attended our church. My step father ordered a bottle of Budweiser. It came with one of those hourglass pilsner glasses that you hardly ever see in bars anymore. When my step father poured the Budweiser into the glass my mouth started to water. This small ordinary act had a big effect on an eight year old boy from the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Tiny bubbles rose through amber colored liquid that seemed to glow as bright as the sun. To put it simply I was captivated. I asked if I could taste the beer. Thinking like most parents would my stepfather agreed and pushed the glass my way. I stood up in my chair and grabbed that fine hourglass shape with both hands then gently put the rim to my lips. The carbonation sensation mixed with the smell of barely and hops hit me in all the right places. I tipped that glass up as high as I could and tried to drink the whole thing down as if it were a sippy cup full of apple juice. This caused quite a commotion because the next thing I remember was the glass being yanked out of my hands and beer spilling on the table and my Garanimals. The waitress rushed over some towels and my step father said: "I didn't think he'd like it." Even Drew, in the middle of a song, laughed at the scene I had just caused. Ooops.

My affinity for America's best-selling lager stuck. It is one of the longest lasting relationships I have ever endured. However, tastes have changed and Budweiser just doesn't do it for me anymore. Maybe when the warm weather returns things will go back to normal but for now sitting back on the couch when all the items on the to-do list have been crossed off requires something with a little more attitude, something a little more distinct.

Yesterday I went up to Binny's Beverage Depot and had some fun in the craft beer aisle.

My afternoon was spent enjoying the fruits of my labor. After a recent conversation with the Chicago Beverage rep I followed his recommendation and opened up a bottle of Southern Tier Imperial Mokah. I like a flavorful cup of coffee in the afternoons but after an incredibly productive day I went with a coffee-flavored stout instead. The Mokah tasted like hedonism and set the stage for an incredible siesta with one bottle at 1 pint 6ounces having 11.2% alcohol by volume. I wish I had let it sit in the fridge a little bit longer because I drank it a few degrees too warm. The first sips were delicious but has time went on (this heavy beer was probably meant to last from a kickoff to a halftime) I had to drink faster than I would have liked as the beer started to get closer to room temperature. My gaffe at the chilling process did not make for a bad experience at all with the Mokah. I look forward to putting another bottle in the fridge quite soon.

In the evening I opened a bottle of Dogfish Head My Antonia which is labeled as "a continually hopped imperial pils." This beer is more my speed. If it was more of a bargain price I would keep a steady supply in my fridge. This beer was light yet packed a fine-tuned hoppy flavor and boasted a bouquet that made me breath deeply before every sip. This 1 pint 9.4 ounce bottle disappeared before the first commercial break of Mad Fashion and I was sad to have made it disappear so quickly, but at least it made Gracie's choice of nighttime television palatable. Never again will I go into a store and walk out with only one bottle of My Antonia unless I only have ten bucks in my pocket.

Another tasty choice I tried recently is Hinterland's Luna Coffee Stout. I found the best flavor was achieved exactly the opposite way of the Imperial Mokah. The first sips right out of the cooler had a little too much bite but as time went on, after one episode during a marathon of House Hunters International, the flavors settled down and tasted more authentic to the brew master's intention. The beer was much lighter and I could still maintain my charming personality after three pints and six episodes of HHI.

All three beers will have a return engagement to my refrigerator but the clear winner is Dogfish Head's My Antonia. Those folks over there in Delaware have really done some spectacular brewing. I look forward to trying more of their wares. For now I need to close and hit that to-do list because there is a whole shelf full of craft beers left over from yesterday that need taste testing. Who's going to come finish up the bottles of Budweiser way in the back?

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