The Beer Brand Identity http://wp.me/s35aCi-270
Hopefully ” buy local” which is generally applied to produce and food will extend to the beer market as well. There is a time and place for cheap beer like Budweiser but I think that once you get use to it buying locally from a microbrewery is much more…
Sunset on Da Beach #beach #sunset #ecuador #thesimplelife
Da Beach
It’s time for the revolution. For far too long have we been enslaved to the power hungry, money grubbing, taste bud robbing Industrial Beers. The CEOs and Head Brewer’s see us only as numbers, as market trends and profit margins. They have taken an art and turned it into weak, characterless beer attached to dollar $igns. Low is the brewmaster who sells his soul to the devils of the faceless industry, lower even still than the CEOs for the brewer knows the beauty of the art and potential of hi craft yet still lets the machine control his dreams.
There was a time when people look pride in their fermentation. A time when to brew was to create and to create was to be divine. Ever family or clan ( regardless of geographic location) had a secret recipe for fermenting that defined the family and was guarded well. Now cogs and wheels turn mills and drones boil the wort.
There is hope though. A beautiful taste off in the distances still within reach. The rise of the micro brew, and the home brew will lead us to our salvation.
Together we will drink libations of deep flavor and character. Beer that has gravity and charm. No more 3.5 %, no more over carbonated water.
We will prevail, let the fun begin.
Raise a glass to the Brewrevolution.
Cheers!
Counterpoint (10/20) December 26, 2011 by Meghan Brooks 1
An argument for the defense. It’s the only sport that originated as a form of capital punishment. It’s eight people, pulling faster and faster, knees bent, back straight, oar blades gliding in and out of water against the sun, the wind, and the rain. It’s six a.m. practices and vomiting after erg sessions. It’s crazy; and yet, those who choose rowing—or as those pesky North Americans call it, crew—just love it. “All other athletes just play games,” says a former rower who does not wish to be identified as such. “In crew you’re fully engaged on a physical and psychological level that you can’t reach in other sports, because in no other sport are your movements so intrinsically and obligatorily connected to your teammates’ in that everyone has to be in perfect rhythm or you’ll lose, (or you’ll flip the fricking boat).” In other words, although the perfect-body producing physical requirements of crew are certainly an advantageous side-effect of the sport, what draws rowers to the water and keeps them there is the camaraderie. As my friend insists, there is no other sport in which the word “team” means more and to which the word “cult” is applied with greater loving accuracy. Rowers make friendships that could not be forged under any other circumstances—they spend infinite hours each year trapped on a narrow boat, spend even more time in training together, and ally themselves through a mutual dedication to the absolute madness of rowing. Rowers don’t just love rowing, but also other rowers. If the overwhelming team aspect of rowing doesn’t prove its status as a legitimate sport, than the sheer mental and physical effort it requires certainly does. Crew is perhaps the only sport that truly works every muscle of an athlete’s body. Back, arms, legs, and core—all feel an intense burn as lactic acid builds during the pure cardio sprint of a race, and in land workouts, rowers cannot concentrate their efforts on a specific part of the body but must instead aim for total fitness. Rowers eat their meals and rotate their sleep schedules as rowing demands of them. In a sport where each tenth of a second matters, a necessarily high dedication to training and physical preparedness makes crew not only a massive time commitment, but also a sport that produces true athletic bodies and spirits. The extremely high fitness level of rowers should not be understated. However, the hardest part of crew, though perhaps also the most rewarding, is its mental aspects. Unlike “games”, where strategy and constant variation in play keeps things interesting, in crew there is nothing but brutal physical exertion. With no control over where they are going or how fast they are moving to get there (Coxswains man the rudder and mandate the speeds at which rowers should row), the mental aspect of crew is naught but sheer will. When every muscle of a rower’s body is burning, sweat is obscuring his or her vision, breathing is labored, and there are still three hundred meters left to go, quitting is never an option. On the contrary, spurred on by the knowledge that one false stroke can lose a race, rowers draw on their obligations to their teammates and their personal determination to keep going. No other sport allows separate personal determinations to conjoin so beautifully nor captures the drama of pain and perseverance more viscerally. In short, crew is not overrated. It is rather a pinnacle of athleticism, camaraderie, and pure sport. It is, however, still crazy.
Meghan Brooks ’14 (meghanbrooks@college) erged once. She is still sore.
If a non-rower can figure this out what more do you need? The only thing she might have left out is … Oh yeah the fucking pain. I know its mentioned but I think it should be mentioned twice. That and the determination of will to continue on through the pain, regardless of what happens ( Crabs, missed strokes, false starts, oh and wakessss! ).
(Source: harvardindependent.com)
So I am sure everyone knows about Lance Armstrong and the allegations of doping. Apparently later this week Armstrong will make an appearance on Oprah to confess and apologies in some way to his fans for years of lying and cheating.
There is a strong contingent of people who have hunted Armstrong down for the last year making his life hell and eventually stripping him of his 7 Tour de france titles. Even the foundation that he created ems to have distanced themselves with the former hero.
He reportedly already apologized to staffers at the Livestrong Foundation, a cancer nonprofit he helped found. Even though Livestrong has cut its ties with Armstrong, it’s important for the nonprofit’s integrity that the dethroned champion come clean, said the Rev. Bruce Cook, an Atlanta resident and author of Redeeming the Wounded.
“Our society can forgive a repentant sinner but is hard on a deceiving liar who holds on to the lie at all costs,” Cook said.
THE ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION .
So if every one is done dethroning the king of the french hill I would just like to say WHO GIVES A SHIT. I love Armstrong, cheater or not. Lance Armstrong won 7 Tour De Frances, that’s right I said 7! Not two, not four buy seven! And he did it all with one fucking testical.
Even if I had mechanical legs, a fake set of lungs and consumed steroids like it was water I would never, and I mean never, in my life have a chance to win the tour de france, let alone 7 TIMES!
I don’t know if any of these witch hunting bastards realize what its like to be an Athlete but its hard, it hurts and at the end of the day you just want to curl in a ball and drowned in the ice bath you’ve emerged your aching muscles in.
Yes, integrity is important and fairness as well to make the playing level even. However, that’s assuming the playing field is even to begin with. From what I understand competitors in the Tour De France have been utilizing some unfair advantage over their competition for years. I am not justifying doping or excusing what Armstrong did but he won seven times, yes he was possible cheating but so was everyone else. In my eyes that means that if the playing field had actually been fair and no one had an unfair advantage Armstrong still would have been a champion.
And though I understand the point that livestrong is taking and see it as a rational move I would be more impressed if they continued to back Armstrong. Regardless of being a cheater or not he is still an amazing person who has accomplished a great deal ( like overcoming cancer) and has helped a lot of people.
Cheating or no Cheating Lance Armstrong is still a BADASS
“Don’t fall in love with me” you said with a smile leaving a soft kiss upon my lips.
I laughed, trapped in your eyes. I would only realize it was too late once you were gone.
We were two travelers, crossing paths in our own time, in our own world.
“We shouldn’t do this”
I nodded with a sigh.
But even sober we couldn’t stop.
We laid, for what seemed like days in bed. Wrapped in each other’s thoughts
“I’m a horrible person you know” you said as we kissed,
and I knew, I really did, but I couldn’t stop.
All I remember now is your lips, and the way I felt as we talked early into the sunrise.
I’ve forgotten you’re face though
Even your name
How long has it been now, A day? A week, A month? A year? When is the last time I held you near?
“We fucked up” you said “We have to be friends now”
Then there was your sarcasm, I remember that too.
It was harsh and left me lingering in pain, but this pain it felt good,
It felt like an ache after a day at the gym, deep, expected with every breath, and self inflicted.
I could have avoided you, your comments like heavy weights; but the feeling, the emotions, the endorphins were too good to resist.
It was my addiction, a craving both physical and mental.
A drug worse than the coke you cut with my pocket knife or the weed you rolled with precision.
You hated this place, but despite the vile words you spat upon the city I hopped you’d stay.
Even when I knew you slept, wrapped in someone else’s arms, I let you in with a smile.
We knew we knew, but time was short, and we traveled at the turn of the wind.
Fights and feelings were best left upon the breeze, pushed aside until it was too late or no longer mattered.
“I don’t do goodbyes” You said biting my shoulder, a warning turned into a whisper as I woke to find you had already gone.
That’s when I realized it was too late.
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