Eliot Spitzer: Good Insight From A Guy With Poor Judgment

Say what you will about former New York governor and attorney general Eliot Spitzer, he has a great deal of economic knowledge, especially with regard to Wall Street (and yes, not especially with regard to paying hookers while busting up prostitution rings).


As a regular reader of Slate.com, I've looked forward to his columns for that publication since he debuted in December of last year. You can find an index of the columns here.

Even if the Slate isn't your type of site or even if you find it too left-leaning, Mr. Spitzer's columns seem--to me, anyway--apolitical. More important, he writes plainly and clearly, quickly zeroing in on the heart of an issue. I really couldn't recommend his columns more highly.

It has been difficult--and remains so--to know where to focus one's outrage and disbelief with regard to the economic crisis (or whatever you want to call it). Mr. Spitzer's columns do a great service by helping his readers find that focus. What we do with it, of course, is up to us.

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DIY: Homebrewing With Brooklyn Brew Shop's Help

It seems I've landed in beertopia here in Brooklyn*. Lots of bars with lots of beers, and lots of people who take beer quite seriously. The Whole Foods in the Lower East Side in Manhattan has a monstrously large selection that can put specialty stores to shame.

So, with beer on the brain, I've taken the next step.

Making my own! A few weeks ago I went to a barbecue at a friend's apartment, and as I placed my six pack of Weihenstephaner in the cooler, I noticed several unlabeled bottles. And in his apartment I spotted several one-gallon glass jugs containing sludgy brown liquid.

Normally I'm skeptical of homemade items, especially when it comes to ingesting them. And I had arrived with one of my most favorite beers in hand, so really, I was set. But in the spirit of adventure and, wanting to make a good impression on Alex, my host and new friend, I acquiesced and tried one.

And another one. And then another one. And so on. Damn if Alex wasn't coming correct. A porter, a stout and a red ale that were uniformly excellent. Not excellent for homebrewed beer, but excellent beer, period.

Back home, I said to myself, "Self--you're pretty handy, good at following directions, you like to experiment like a mad scientist--perhaps we should try our hand at this." And Self replied, "You're right, and I remember that summer in Berkeley where we had a different do-it-yourself operation up in the attic that produced legendary results, so we've got aptitude--let's get cracking!"

Now, I was going to have to rely on Alex for know-how, because I wanted to shorten the learning curve as much as possible. But then I stumbled upon Erica & Stephen of the Brooklyn Brew Shop while reading Time Out New York. They're so new to the game they operate out of their apartment and the Brooklyn and DUMBO flea markets on the weekends--but it seems they're the only game in town so I had to check them out.

I eventually made it to the Brooklyn flea two weekends ago. People were gathered around their booth asking questions, chatting excitedly, exchanging beer preferences. I liked the vibe immediately. Erica helped us, and answered important questions from me like "Can any idiot do this?" She assured me that yes, if you can make oatmeal, you can make beer.

So, my wife and I purchased a one-gallon kit, which came with a one-gallon glass jug (which is thick-walled and strong--I know because I managed to knock one off the table onto the asphalt and it didn't break!), Brooklyn Brew Shop's own grain blend for making a grapefruit honey ale, the required hops and yeast, a thermometer, a rubber stopper plastic tubing and accompanying doodads--all for the low, low price of 30 bucks. We also picked up the grain/hops/yeast package for their maple oatmeal porter for 10 bucks. They do sell a five gallon kit, but I reckon I'm a long way away from needing that.

Erica had informed us that she was a second-generation brewer, as she had learned the ropes from her dad. This made me feel assured--not that I thought she and Stephen were a fly-by-night operation that had brewed a few gallons and decided to fleece people during this Brooklyn Beer Boom-- not at all, but I felt good knowing that two generations of brewing will have yielded a great deal of experience, nuance, and--most important--an ability to pass on beer making knowledge.

Which brings me to last night. I decided to go for it, starting with the grapefruit and honey ale, since Alex had advised me that making an ale is simpler than making a porter.

While it wasn't rocket science, it was a bit more complicated than mere oatmeal making. Then again, Erica was probably referring to making actual oatmeal, not Quaker Oats instant oatmeal, which is what my lazy ass immediately thought of.

I won't bore you by recounting all the steps, but after some spilling, some burned digits, some heavenly aromas and a lot of sanitizing to make sure I didn't murder the yeast with dangerous, ever-present germs, I've got (most of) a gallon of brown sludge fermenting away, waiting to be bottled and further fermented in a couple weeks.

I encourage all potential homebrewers to check out their site, even if you're not in Brooklyn, for I'm pretty sure they can ship their stuff to you.

Now for the hard part--emptying some bottles so I have something to put it in!

*Some might call the Pacific Northwest beertopia, but that region's hyper-hoppy brews just really aren't my preference anymore.

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Yes, It Is Broken: Part 1

It keeps me up at night. It's a low-level fog in my mind that has made me uneasy in a way that's difficult to pinpoint. It makes me so angry I think about killing, about making changes with my bare hands around the throats of those who stand in the way, grinning. It makes me sad my anger has yet to find a productive outlet. I have difficulty expressing how I feel about it to those that know me, so I say nothing. Its scope is so large I can barely summon the effort required to search its contours and see it as a whole, but I refuse to stop.

What is it?

America. It's broken. How're we going to fix it?

We remain the "City upon a Hill", and make no mistake, the eyes of the world remain upon us.

Figuratively speaking, what John Winthrop and JFK spoke of runs through us, and has done so for nearly 400 years, whether we recognize it or not, whether we want it to or not, whether we believe it should or not.

Simply put, the United States of America can be, has been and will remain the world's best and most likely repository for hopeful human progress. As ever, this can only happen by example. At the moment, my heart has begun to break as I absorb the ways in which the very best of American exceptionalism evaporates before my very eyes.

My heart breaks just making this admission. For some time I've tried to tell myself things aren't as bad as they seem, that the filters through which I receive information skew things toward a sky-is-falling, "look what else is wrong with us" world view. In the face of that I've remained ever-optimistic, for I believe strongly--perhaps too strongly--in the strength of American institutions and American character--expressed both through its actions as a nation and in the character of its people.

At the moment, my optimism remains unbowed, but my faith in the strength of American institutions and character weakens daily. Where is the rot? What causes it? How can we renew ourselves and our nation?

I have a penchant for wearing bold colors, but damn if I don't feel like Johnny Cash right now:

I’d love to wear a rainbow everyday,
and tell the world that everything’s okay
But I’ll try to carry off a little darkness on my back
Till things are brighter, I’m the man in black.


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Lest Anyone Forget

In 1997 Luc Besson stole George Lucas' lunch, ate it, and then laughed in his face--haughtily, as only a Frenchman can.



Besson and Digital Domain brought the kick-ass next-generation visual effects two full years before Lucas' 16 years-in-the-making wet diaper The Phantom Menace.

I remember sitting in theater for The Fifth Element thinking "Damn! Finally somebody moved the ball forward with the dope sci-fi shit." I also remember sitting in the theater for The Phantom Menace thinking "Pffft. I've already seen this shit."

So while it's oh-so-easy to shit on George Lucas for all the other failings of his second set of Star Wars movies, let's not forget to shit on him for getting beaten to punch on special effects by a dude who spends his time making actual movies that don't suck.

Green?



Supergreen.
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I Think Dave Chappelle Would Approve.

After all, he knows Nick Cannon is hilarious.



On a related note, does anybody still listen to Gil Scott-Heron?



This should be your next music purchase, even before Steely Dan.
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