An Ode to Scotch

"The proper drinking of Scotch whisky is more than indulgence: it is a toast to civilization, a tribute to the continuity of culture, a manifesto of man’s determination to use the resources of nature to refresh mind and body and enjoy to the full the senses with which he has been endowed."
(David Daiches -1969)



A smile comes every time I hear Scotch whisky hitting ice cubes in a glass. The familiar crackle from perfectly distilled liquid settling into those spaces between conjures a relaxing feeling of both mind and body. It means the day is over and uncomfortable shoes will be coming off soon.

Maybe it’s because growing up I watched my dad’s worries run from his face every time he sat in his favorite brown chair with his favorite brown drink. He’d purse those skinny lips and smoothly shake a cut glass carved with my grandpa’s initials on it, before uttering his “damn that’s good” line that became as expected as his Sunday morning bathrobe.

Indeed, the beauty of Scotch lies in the fact the whole body tastes the first sip. As much jolting as magnificent, the liquid – at least initially – brings a heavy dose of clarity to why the evening or afternoon has come. That somehow right now, maybe for the first time, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. It all makes sense - even if sense is something your life has not made a whole lot of lately

Yet nothing about Scotch is forced and everything about it seems inevitable. A family friend once said the drink made him, among many other things, smarter, sexier, funnier and generally better company. The guy is wicked smart with one of the best sense of humors I’ve ever been around. And even though he falls on the short and balding side of the other attribute he credits Scotch with giving him, three out of four ain’t bad. In baseball, that’d be like the love child of Ted Williams and Pete Rose finding Barry Bonds’ arthritic cream.

One of the best quotes I’ve heard about Scotch came from W.C. Fields, who said, "Always carry a large flagon of whisky in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake."

Rich in history as well, the drink is largely responsible for the spread of Christianity throughout Scotland. It’s believed that missionary monks brought distillation techniques with them as they undertook the Herculean task of trying to convert the surrounding islands. It had to help people believe what they were preaching and ease the pain when they didn’t.

Today, no matter what profession our world attempts to perfect, Scotch can be found on the top shelf to provide the tidal wave for the good days and the needed flood to drown out the bad ones.

Nothing with it changes. And that’s beautiful.

-----

A few facts from our good friends Wikipedia, which may or may not be true:

To be called Scotch whisky the spirit must conform to the standards of the Scotch Whisky Order of 1990 (UK),[1] which clarified the Scotch Whisky Act of 1988,[2] and mandates that the spirit:

--Must be distilled at a Scottish distillery from water and malted barley, to which only other whole grains may be added, have been processed at that distillery into a mash, converted to a fermentable substrate only by endogenous enzyme systems, and fermented only by the addition of yeast,
--Must be distilled to an alcoholic strength of less than 94.8% by volume so that it retains the flavour of the raw materials used in its production,
--Must be matured in Scotland in oak casks for no less than three years,
--Must not contain any added substance other than water and coloring, and
--May not be bottled at less than 40% alcohol by volume.

If Vice hadn't lost all his virtues....

Ol Captain Dick sure is something ain’t he? In this 1994 clip he almost appears sane. Wonder if he considered Al Gore and the office he held at the time to be part of the Executive Branch?

My guess is, like his thoughts on Iraq, his views on the inherent powers of the V.P. might have changed since those days.

And Mitt will tell us when this heat will finally pass after the break

I'M MITT ROMNEY AND I
PROMISE TO MAKE IT RAIN!

It took me a while to figure out what Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney looked like. Then it hit me.

The meticulously groomed former governor of Massachusetts, whose chin and cheekbones are as square as his religion, is tall and handsome with perfect hair. Romney’s got a smile that feels forced and his jokes usually suck. Hmm, what profession rings a bell? Ah ha, bingo is the name-o: A meteorologist.

If Mitt isn’t a natural fit for telling Channel 4 viewers what the weekend forecast is going to be, then I am out of touch with the modern day weatherman. With the “I-look-like-I-have-trouble-flagellating” appearance and the required cheese-dick personality to boot, Romney has all the quintessential characteristics of those chosen few sent to deliver the news of when “the golf course will be calling again.”

And the Sunday punch of the whole comparison: One trip to Wikipedia and I found out Romney’s real name is – wait for it - Willard! Yes, Willard. It’s as if Mitt, a name which already reeks of local newscast, missed his true calling. I can just see some frustrated producer trying to get the Pre-Modanna into his seat for the upcoming weather tease. “Where in the hell is Willard?”

Comparing Romney to Willard Scott is probably unfair. However, think of all the meteorologists who are household names, and try to make the argument that there isn’t irony in the fact that a dude who looks like a weatherman happens to be named Willard. Maybe it’s a stretch but the dots are there for the connecting.

What scares a lot of people about Romney, though, is his Mormonism. This frankly doesn’t bother me in the least. Although I don’t know a whole lot about the religion beyond the basic tenants, I can’t believe Romney’s faith could be any worse than the current crop’s. The Bush Klan continually finds new ways to elevate religious perversion to old perverse levels. Whether it’s proselytizing against Islam or talking to the Man Himself or ostracizing a lifestyle that some in their ranks are practicing, a Mormon couldn’t hurt. And neither could a Tom Cruise-ologist.

Polygamy is often cited as what makes the religion queer. However, the practice is no longer widespread (with only small percentages – some studies show roughly 2 or 3% - of practicing Mormons who have multiple wives) and Romney himself is the only top-tier G.O.P. candidate with wife number one still by his side.

And Willard R. certainly isn’t the only presidential candidate guilty of having weathermen idiosyncrasies. Hacks from both camps deliver scripted lines that seem meant for those goofy clowns wearing short shorts under the anchor desk. “It’s going to be sunny from here on out.”

They tend to think a smile mixed with emphatic talk and lots of hand gestures will make us believe they know what they’re talking about. As if we’ll be more focused on their patterned ties and tailored suits rather than their voices, which just told us invading the entire Middle East would be a good idea and that rain shouldn’t visit Seattle for the next month.

A nexus of colossal failure exists as well. The only people who are worse than weathermen at what they do are politicians. And the two professions are linked in a variety of other ways - mainly job security. Nowhere will one find employers so untouchable.

Politicians authorize foreign policy blunders that a first-year grad student wouldn’t contemplate and are safe, depending on their office, for multiple years before they have to face constituents again. Meteorologists, on the other hand, get it wrong day in and day out and know the paycheck is in the mail.

Also, these two trades offer a limitless excuse for esoteric language to be barfed in ways that baffle even coastal dwelling highbrows well versed in snobbery-lathered haughtiness? Case in point, the last sentence.

But if you know the definition of quorum or why the jet stream affects the dew point, you’re most likely either dry humping a marble dais or politicking for chief meteorologist. Or both.

Either way, the rest of us aren’t buying what you’re selling. Which sucks because I thought the golf course was finally calling.

Welcome to OnTheFritz

HELLO, From the site's goat:



A buddy of mine sent a quote to me from Comedy Central's Colbert Report that defined what I am currently doing. I'll share it before I go any further.

"If you don't know what a blogger is, it is somebody that has a laptop computer, an axe to grind and their virginity." -Stephen Colbert.

So yeah, if you're reading this you're one of four people who probably just received an email from me telling you to check this site out.

The much maligned livejournal user mwfritz33 has died a slow and painful death due to an intense lack of readership, previous feigned interest no longer being feigned and the overall apathy now consuming its mostly confused author.

But this is the new blog and I guess if it has a mission statement, even though I am grossly opposed to both missions and statements, this is it:

OnTheFritz promises a simple-minded and generally dumb look into the factors that will continually force the world around us to malfunction and break down.

I can promise three things if you continue to visit this site. You'll chuckle, contemplate and climax. Multiple times in multiple ways on a semi-regular basis.

That's all for now because it's my day off and I feel like drinking before the night arrives.