7pm Signs

On the way back from Seattle on I-5 I saw a few signs.

One had an image of Uncle Sam on it and said “Vote for the American.” As an American, I find that this is the default so I don’t really concern myself with nationalities in this instance very much. Consider it a Challenge Accepted: Mission Accomplished! situation, where everyone should feel better than paranoid morons.

Another proudly proclaimed, “Kalamath: a setting for Twilight!”

Keeeeeeeeeeep on driving, mate.

As I rolled into the home town, I saw two things, the first not quite a sign, merely a license plate with the word “Rapture” on it.

That’s the kind of thing that makes me nervous. Anyone too actively engaged in seeking out or hoping for the afterlife should be viewed with suspicion, short of them having a terminal illness. In which case they aren’t driving and I don’t have to be afraid that they’re going to just decide to jump the lanes because ‘Jesus’.

Finally at the New Copper Penny I saw an advertisement for their “Scorpions Tribute Night!”

Ah, home.

I don’t know if I can adequately explain why the Scorpions Tribute Night is amusing to me: I saw the Scorpions and I enjoyed it. But I only needed to see them once: They didn’t produce the kind of music that evokes introspection or seemed worthy of review. Yet here we have a celebration of days gone by, everyone celebrating the style over the substance, perhaps, or just trying to recapture a moment when ‘everything was awesome’ or at least everything felt awesome or maybe just: things didn’t suck.

I am lucky to not have such a tint on my past. The 80’s sucked and the roots of why everything is so difficult now can be absolutely traced to the 1980’s.

That said, I’m certainly in a better place: at least I don’t want to see the world burn, anymore. I also don’t want to see something terrible glorified either. So I’m a little torn.

Laurelwood Preacher In The WildI get to share this with you over a Laurelwood Preacher In The Wild, which is a belgian tripel aged in gin barrels and was one of my favorites at the 5th Anniversary event. I feel lucky to try it again although in a happy instance, I was blessed with a great many interesting and cool choices for beer tonight. So if it hadn’t been there, something else really good would’ve been sampled.

However, if for some reason you did not get to try the Preacher, oh, try it. It’s got the tripel elements (sweetness, dominantly) coupled with the drying effects of gin keeping the whole thing on the rails in a way that wouldn’t exist otherwise. It feels much lighter than it is and is the kind of beer that I would have more of if I wasn’t a responsible driver.

But I am, so I won’t. Nevertheless, Preacher feels like the kind of beer to welcome autumn. Fortified enough for the cold nights but light enough for the hot afternoons.

4 thoughts on “7pm Signs”

  1. It’s between Olympia and Vancouver that my most productive sessions of “Spin the Crazy” have taken place. That’s why you turn your radio to the AM dial, hit scan, and stop on the radio announcer who most sounds as if he’s (or, rarely, she’s) foaming at the mouth.

    1. I hadn’t thought about the beer relating but it really does. Nice catch. Also: there are reasons I avoid radio and you’ve just supported all the conclusions I have about that. Giving crazy attention is the best way to sustain that crazy.

      1. Well, sometimes you need the crazy. You’re tired, you’d rather not be driving, and your music just isn’t doing it for you. Spinning the crazy angrys up the blood.

        When NPR turns to static, there will always be crazy to spin.

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