Hostage Negotiators Have a Sweet Gig

I could imagine myself being a hostage negotiator. That's a sweet gig. Wonder what the hours are like? Can you imagine an ad in the paper?

WANTED: Hostage negotiator. Must be comfortable working long, very sporatic hours, experience with megaphone helpful. Must be cool under pressure and comfortable with stretching the truth, elaborating, and outright lying. Must appear stressed out, wear ragged shirt and tie, smoke cigarettes and bark cool catch phrases upon arrival.

You know what I mean though? The hostage negotiator always kicks his car door open and walks briskly up to the scene with someone coming to greet him. Both of them walk forward but the informer is always staring at the hostage negotiator offering long explanations of the current scenario, as opposed to the negotiator's very minimal questions and statements. He doesn't feel the need to say much to this guy. A plan is already being formulated inside his head, as they both walk briskly to the scene, both wearing bullet proof vests, the informer catching the negotiator up to speed, trying to keep pace. It would help if the negotiator parks at least a block away. Also shoes that make an audible noise on the ground. Cop cars strewn about the place, always parked diagonally as if that parking scheme will really inhibit the gunman(men) from escaping.

A helpful technique for hostage negotiators is to try and reach out to the hostage taker. Find parallels in personality, similar interests, forge some sort of bond. You have to be sincerely and honestly interested in the other person, even if, epecially if you don't like them. Although the situation may be dire, the hostage taker can probably still sense when your only interest in them is to advance your own objectives. What makes a good negotiator is to separate the person from the problem and reach a common objective. Hostage negotiators always attempt to have some sort of barganing chip, some sign of good will. Usually this means the negotiator will convince the gunman to release one or several of the hostages, but never all at once, then there's no leverage for the gunman.

The Brewing Process Update: Making Wort

In retrospect I'm not sure what I was so intimidated by. The brewing process (so far) has been remarkably straightforward. I was most likely getting hung up on why the process works (as I'm prone to do) rather than accepting the fact that it was working. It also makes more sense seeing and doing it, rather than just reading about the parts as a sum of a whole.

We began by sanitizing the equipment with a powder that is something like a diluted bleach, and submerging the can of extract in warm water in the sink. Next we brought a pot of 1 1/2 gallons of water to a boil, removed the extract, opened the can, and poured it in slowly while stirring. It became apparent to me why we initially submerged the extract in water; it's very viscous. Remove the pot from heat and stir the extract until uniform color. Next add dextro-maltan, the hops, and more extract. Stir until uniform which takes a little time because the dextro-maltan and extract are powders. Bring back to heat and "boil off." While on the heat this time, it's normal for it to bubble up near to the top of the pot. When it does this take it off the heat and let it go down, then bring it back until it no longer bubbles up, then take it off the heat and allow it to cool.

The solution in the pot is called wort. It is unfermented beer in a concentrated form. I got the sense that it was beer, something just needed to happen to it. While the wort was cooling we added 3 1/2 more gallons of warm water to the fermentation bucket which coupled with the wort would make 5 gallons, the normal size of a home brew beer batch. It equals out to somewhere between 48 and 50 12oz beers. After the wort had cooled we poured it vigorously into the fermentation bucket and stirred it. Next came the yeast which as I understood it, did all the leg work in actually making the beer. Stir the yeast and give it 7-10 minutes and cover it with the sanitized lid of the fermentation bucket. It was this time that we took a specific gravity.

A specific gravity is a measure that provides a density for your solution against water which has a specific gravity of one. The higher your specific gravity, the denser a liquid is. The instruction provides a beginning and ending specific gravity that you should be aiming for. We took a specific gravity and found it to be precisely where the instructions said it was supposed to be. This made me very excited for some reason and I launched into a discourse in what a urine specific gravity is, normal and abnormal, and what it could mean for a person. To his credit, Dan did his best to humor me, and appear interested. I honestly couldn't care if he was interested, I was going to ramble, it's what I do. It's what I'm doing.

With the lid on it's time to stay out of the way, store it in a cool location, and let the yeast metabolize and ferment the wort, bringing it ever closer to the Brown Ale that we will bottle and let sit for two weeks longer before it's ready for consumption and distribution to my friends and family.

Update on Brewing

Monday March 29th, the man-date Dan and I had planned two weeks prior. I tell him that we're still on in spite of the fact that I worked an overnight and didn't get in until 8:30AM. I tell him that we're still on and to wear something low cut, but you know? Classy.

Well aware of the fact that Maine Brewing Supply on Forest Ave is closed, I google the hop shop in Gray. Also closed on Monday's. Daniel-san however, being the well traveled fellow he is, is aware of several more potential suppliers. Gotta hand it to him, the kid is always there when you need him. Except when you run 29 Toss and he goes lead blocking to the right, and you get your ass kicked (I'm not bitter).

The only thing keeping me awake is my barely contained enthusiasm, closely tied to the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Dan, none of this shit is combustible right?"

"Yes and no."

"Not yes or no?"

"Don't be a pussy."

Al Contemplates the Pros and Cons of Brewing Beer

We've all thought about it. That is a huge generalization that I sincerely want to believe (self high five for spelling sincerely right without spell check). I enjoy tossing myself into new projects and becoming engrossed in them. Exploring passions, hobbies, and creating things is fascinating. It appeals to the human spirit to be creating things. Here I go, getting much too philosophical about beer. Time to get scientific.

One of the things that caught my attention about brewing beer is how challenging it is. How much of a process it is. I enter this process with the full understanding that I will more than likely fail my first batch of home brewed beer. The only consolation I have is that despite how bad my home brewed beer is, I have more than likely drank worse beer. I must never let it escape my head that it is my beer too, for better or worse. Nevertheless, although the eventuality of failure is present in my mind there is also the prospect of fortune lingering like a golden feather caught in a light wind, that I must chase, and grab.

...Shut up.

No fo real, I might actually be able to create a good batch of beer that people will enjoy. By people, I more than likely mean people close to me, friends and family. That would be awesome. I have no thoughts about turning this into a business. Although let's be honest, the market exists. Regardless of economics, people will drink, especially in New England. I would target those folks with a desire to experiment and try new beers. Those with an interested palate, those unwilling to survive on Bud Light.

However I know myself well enough to know that the longer I talk about it, the less likely it is to get done. When too much planning go into something, you wind up only planning, and not doing. Then again you don't want to walk into something completely blind, so it's a happy medium of knowing enough to screw around, but not wasting too much time on the logistics when you should be doing legwork. Even blogging about my desire to brew beer is probably a step in the wrong direction, at the risk of sounding hypocritical.

Here is a brief synopsis of the brewing process a la John Palmer:

1. Malted barley is soaked in hot water to release the malt sugars.
2. The malt sugar solution is boiled with Hops for seasoning.
3. The solution is cooled and yeast is added to begin fermentation.
4. The yeast ferments the sugars, releasing CO2 and ethyl alcohol.
5. When the main fermentation is complete, the beer is bottled with a little bit of added sugar to provide the carbonation.

See how complex that is? I have to reach all the way back to my high school chemistry class to decipher most of that. As I recall, I spent the majority of that class sleeping, while my Asian lab partner did our work. Was it a coincidence that he was both Asian and my lab partner? For you to decide. What was I going to use Chemistry for anyway? If she had said early on in that class, "Hey you may someday need this to brew beer," well I probably still would've slept through most of it.

I would like to believe all it would take for me to brew beer is a "How to brew beer for dummies" book (They better make that!) and capital (i.e. money). It would be nice however to have an inside man. A partner in crime, so to speak.

Enter my friend Dan, uniquely suited for our purposes. While far from a brew master, Dan has concocted several recipes for home brews, some of which I've tried and thoroughly enjoyed. Dan shares my passion for good beer, good food, and quoting movies in everyday conversation. His background in the food industry runs deep, and as such has garnered a healthy know-how that I fear I may lack.

Besides anything that's worth doing, is worth doing with your good buddy, drunk, naked, or all three. Two heads are better than one. And now when we're drinking beer, it's research.

I'll keep you posted on progress.

Foot note: Dan is working on a cookbook targeted at college students exiting college. Quick, good meals with steps that even college kids can follow. He calls it "The Google of cookbooks." When it's published, I'll review the shit out of it.

Let's Play a Game...

It's called listen to me. I have a blog. You don't. Maybe you do. But you're reading mine. Aren't you?

Confused yet?

I haven't even started.

Do you have a favorite pair of underwear? It's a good day when you put them on. Maybe you need them that day. I was thinking it would be great to have several pairs of that same favorite underwear, but then I immediately renounced my position on that stance. The favorite underwear, or favorite everything for that matter, loses its status by there being more than one of them. In its solidarity, it's rarity, is its inherent value. Supply and demand. Should my supply of favorite underwear increase, the day(s) that I wear them are by virtue no longer special. Production would fall and the economy would go into a bigger tailspin than it's already in without me to by excessive amounts of DVDs.

So be grateful that there's only one pair of special underwear.

I debuted my golf season yesterday. The thing is, what grabbed me back to golf, is the occasionally amazing shot I make amidst the more frequent mediocre shots, and the often bad. The bad are always absolved by the amazing shots. When I make one, a clean strike, headed for the flag, or a straight drive 275 yards down the heart of the fairway, I often think "Wouldn't that be great if I could do that every time?" I think that usually after I get over myself, and several enthusiastic fist pumps.

Fucking Tiger.

His fall from grace was steeper than any non-political figure in history. I feel that what made him so great, also inspired his off-the course, his extracurricular activities, if you will. On the course he's capable of anything, perhaps he was fooled into thinking that applied elsewhere. The news shook the world. You had to know something was up with Tiger. So enigmatic he was, so unreachable, except on his terms. You only saw what he wanted you to see, what he allowed you to see. This is the first we've seen a human Tiger Woods. Yet in his interviews, press conferences are very limited by time, limited in questions. Still controlling the terms, or attempting to.

All of this hoopla, the shenanigans, really doesn't change much for me. I will absolutely still tune in to watch him golf. He's brilliant. I defy you not to watch him do, what it is he does, better than anyone else in the world.

Things you should have that you may need at a certain point that may or may not be right now. Subtext: Fog machine

Woah nelly! Long hiatus from blogging exploits is a direct result of lack of material. After a short (but important) conversation with my sister I arrived at a startling conclusion: I need a fog machine (or several). A fog machine falls under a long and distinguished list of things that I may need to use some day, but will more than likely take up space and add clutter.

It's a risk I'm willing to take.

A fog machine, as the name implies, spews fog. To what end and purpose I will utilize the fog machine is unknown to me at this point. What is certain is that I will use it. With a fog machine one can make dramatic entrances from room to room making day to day life more epic. When I think about it, it's much harder to think of ways not to use a fog machine. I can only thing of one. On a foggy day, why in the hell would you need a fog machine? You friggin yahoo. Imbecile.

The fog machine could be used in conjunction with strobe lights, pyrotechnics, huge sub-woofers, maybe some skeletons (from real people naturally), and Alice Cooper. But really, the fog machine is key. With all the other amenities and no fog machine is like having 12 Robins and no Batman. Colorful, young boys.

Think about it.

Fog machines fit into every single holiday, either by history itself or from a festive.

1. Christmas: Santa could use a little fog down the chimney instead of smoke. And you could use a fog machine at Christmas parties to reduce the viability to zero, thus blotting out those god-awful Christmas sweaters.
2. Easter: When Jesus returned, you bet your ass there was fog. No one could make an entrance like that dude.
3. Valentines day: Set the mood with a little light fog.
4. Arbor day: Self-explanatory.

I should be a god damned salesman. So far fog machines and nutella have received free advertisement on my blog. You're welcome you ungrateful pricks.

Cartoon Laws

Cartoons played a pivotal role in my TV viewing experience as a kid. In retrospect I'm able to draw many conclusions about cartoons. Cartoon's manipulate physical law on a regular basis, but it is fairly consistant in it's manipulation. Oddly enough, it begins to make sense in it's own idiosyncratic way.

An example that comes to mind almost immedately is cartoon's application of a very fundemendal law: Gravity. If you've ever watched a Road Runner cartoon you'll notice that Wile E. Coyote (Spelling?) is able to run off a cliff and hover in the air, so long as he is unaware of the fact that there is no ground beneath him. Then, eventually he'll realize the awful truth, perhaps by looking down, perhaps by reaching down. Either way he's just delaying the inevidable and he will fall (perhaps his body first, elongating his neck to exagerate the look of terror on his face for the longest time). This is funny to the audiance in a dramatic irony sense which if you recall involves a particular truth that the audiance is wholefully aware of however the character is oblivious. This works best if the event, truth, situation, etc., is a painfully obvious one for the audiance and such is the case with our friend Wile E. Coyote.

Coyote always favors elaborate and intricate methods for capturing the road runner, many of which involve rockets, TNT, or other dangerous and/or combustible objects. Ocassionaly he'll strap rockets onto his person so as to match speed with the road runner. All of his plans have great potential for backfire and naturally calamity ensues. Why he continues to buy ACME products remains a mystery to me. He shows a lot of consumer confidence by purchasing products that consistently land him in harm's way. Perhaps he has a good line of credit with ACME.

Cartoons also have a funny way of playing with our favors. Favors as in who we are favoring to win out, or get what they want in this seemingly endless struggle. Did you ever wish just once that the coyote would nab the road runner once and for all? Did you ever wish the Trix rabbit could have just one bowl of trix? Seriously you friggin brats. How much of an elitist do you have to be to prevent someone from having a bowl of Trix? Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids. How discriminatory. How does that send the right message? While I could continue on (and you're begging me not to), I think I'll move to another one of my favorites: Tom and Jerry.

Here we have two characters that are opposed at a very fundemendal level. No action was taken by either party to wrong the other. The cat tries to eat the mouse ex officio, that is, by virtue of position. The plot requires absolutely no subtext. The beauty is in it's simplicity and it's ability to reach all audiences.

To level the playing feild from any physical advantages of size, speed, and power, the cat might have, the mouse is quite clever, and we the audiance are naturally compelled to favor the proverbial underdog. Ocassionaly a large dog is thrown into the mix and here we are placed in an animal taxonomy where somehow the mouse and the dog are able to cooexist and occassionaly collaborate to cause the cat undue pain and discomfort. Children are able to easily digest that yes the dog and cat are enemies, the cat and mouse are enemies, but the dog and mouse are not necessarily enemies. They are not friends per se, they find themselves diplomatically alligned with a common objective, destroy the cat. These plot developments require no explanation of the character's internal motivations, and rightfully so, it would interfere with the comedic violence. Bringing me to my next point.

There's something inherinetly funny about violence in certain degrees and in certain situations. To examine why is too deep of a topic for a blog that began about cartoons, but I have several theories to offer before launching into a tangent of Cartoon's use of violence.

1. Conditioning - It has been more or less ingrained into our culture as far back as circus clowns and the three stooges that the physical pain and suffering of others can be humerous, barring there are no actual injuries.
2. "Better him than me." - I couldn't think of a better way to phrase this, but perhaps by our seeing damage inflicted on someone else of our own mortality and we somehow laugh out of relief.
3. Universal - Yes, pain is a universal thing. It's natural that things to which we can relate strike a cord, because we draw on our own experience and are able to experience with either party. That which is accessable is more humerous, because we really know it.

The comedic use of violence in cartoons is over the top and thus cannot be taken seriously. When people are shot in reality yes holes appear in them. It's unpleasant. In a cartoon, more than likely holes will just appear in your body, and when you drank water it would pour from them.

In conclusion, today's cartoons pale in comparison to the cartoons of old.

Al's New Scheme

I like to mix things up. Keep other people on their toes. Makes life interesting. Recently, I’ve figured out a few new ways to accomplish this. This first one dawned on me when I was in the shower.

Impersonation is fun, but can be both tricky and dangerous. It occurred me that it might be fun to inconvenience people in a restaurant by posing as a waiter, taking their order, then leaving before anyone knows what’s happened. The only downside is I don’t get to, I can’t stick around to see the fruits of my labor. I just have to steal away with the quiet satisfaction that I’ve been a monkey wrench in someone’s plans.

Think of how easy it is! The disguise is simple. Some nice clothes, a polo and khakis, and to tie it all together, the black half apron in which they store their pad for taking orders. It just so happens that I came across just such an apron at Marden’s of all places.

Sidenote: Marden’s is the closest thing to a gypsy market you can get without actually being at a gypsy market. There were so many good buys at Marden’s that it overwhelms the fact that you don’t actually need any of it. Fact is, it’s so cheap it would be stupid not to buy it. These are the principles of consumerism to which I’m most susceptible. I almost bought linoleum for Christ’s sake! Doesn’t matter that I don’t need linoleum or even have a place for it. I might need it at some point. Or someone else might need it and in that situation I become a knight in linoleum armor. Are you really trying to deprive me of that? Are you?

Sorry.

The real trick like so many things is timing. There are so many variables. I see it going down like this. Enter and bypass the hostess if there is one. She's the one that could derail my whole operation. Easiest example is to say I'm going to the bar.

Next is finding the table before the actual waiter gets there. Also tricky, I could get interrupted by an unimpressed employee of a restaurant. I highly doubt he's going to buy it if I tell him, "Oh, I'm the new guy." So busy restaurants work better. There's a greater lag from when the waiter gets there. I also run the risk of the table not being ready with their order, then I'm only potentially screwing them out of drinks. So choosing a more decisive table, preferably regulars with less people.

If it all goes smoothly from there, it's just the exit which should be easy enough. Then hopefully when the real waiter shoes up, the table says they've already been helped, hopefully the waiter buys it. If not, he'll address it with the hostess, and they'll eventually get it straightened out (Dammit!).

In the end all I really want to do is give people questions in their head. Like who spends their free time posing as a waiter and taking peoples' orders then leaving?

This guy. That's who.

Stuff That Just Doesn't Happen That Absolutely Should

When's the last time you've seen someone get thrown through a window? A drink thrown in their face? Slapped in the face? Someone get slammed on a bar, then forcefully slid down the bar knocking all the drinks off on the way?

These sort of things need to find their way into society. And why not? Crazier shit than that is socially acceptable, but let's examine them one by one.

I feel like people getting thrown through windows just doesn't happen anymore. Of course implying that in the back of my head, somewhere in history, throwing people through windows was commonplace. News flash: It was. The evidence lies in their being a word designated for the act of throwing a human being through a window. Enter defenestration or the infinitive to defenestrate. So really my thinking that somewhere in history, throwing people from windows was commonplace is supported by, if nothing else there being a word for such an act. If something occurs enough, there simply has to be a word for it.

Crazy sidenote then I swear I'll get back to defenestration: It occurred to me that there's always a fancy medical term for everything. Well if flatus, or flatulence wasn't objective enough for passing gas or the layperson's farting, there's an agreed upon term straight from the medical community. Enter: bi-labial fricative.

The term "defenestration" was coined around the time of an incident in Prague Castle in the year 1618. The word has its roots in Latin (de=from) and French (fenestra=window or opening). One would be appalled by the frequency of defenestrations throughout history if it weren't so awesome. So why the decline in defenestrations? My suspicions lie in the invention and distribution of firearms being more convenient, available, and user-friendly, than first locating a window, and properly arranging, etc, etc.

I've always dreamt of being out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, or some occasion, and my peripheral vision and acute hearing, I see a situation escalating. More forceful language, increasing volume of voice then BOOM! Like a cobra strike! Drink to the face! This is a clearly recognized act of social de-facing, or insulting. And it's one I'd like to witness in person. Under several circumstances however.

1. First and foremost, the drink cannot be thrown in my face.


2. It must be an alcoholic drink preferably red wine (it stains) or a martini (it probably burns). No water.


3. Has to be spontaneous, no wagers, or strings attached.

I'm less concerned about who's doing the throwing/receiving. The classic example is that of a woman throwing a drink into a man's face, but I'm not picky. It causes a scene and is not easily concealed. I suspect this happens often enough in public that I will one day witness it, and cross it off my list. I suppose if I'm really in a rush to see this, I could attend a High-School reunion incognito and wait for sparks (and drinks) to fly.

Slaps to the face happen often enough, sadly I haven't witnessed a good enough one yet to cross it off the list. I want the circumstances surrounding it to be similar to the drink in the face i.e., not me, and random.

This last one has to be the Holy Grail of stuff that doesn't happen that should. I picture it in my head and cannot, for the life of me, figure out a reason this doesn't happen. Take someone, throw them on the bar, preferably face down, then slide them the length of the bar, running alongside and knocking down all the drinks on the way. Much like defenestration, I have this suspicion that this happened enough times in history to make its way into all the movies. Alas, there does not exist such a word for slamming someone onto a bar, running them the length of the bar and knocking all the drinks on the way.

I suppose the reason this doesn't happen as much as it should lies in the obvious difficulties of subduing someone to the point you can accomplish the rest. Unconscious is a plus, that would make the process streamlined. Fortunately there is no shortage of ways to produce unconsciousness. Hey it's a start.

Next, what about the clothing the person's wearing. Let's pray for something that decreases friction and surface tension, making the process of sliding them down the bar smoother. Perhaps the barkeep can lay down a thin layer of grease or some manner of lubrication. There's so many variables that makes me determine that I will most likely not witness this in my lifetime.

I can only hope.

If Living With Your Parents is Cool, Consider Me Miles Davis

Okay listen little voice inside my head, it's only a problem if I'm 30, living in the basement and watching Dragonball Z (Great show by the way). I hope to be 30, living in my own basement watching Dragonball Z (Such a great show). Alas, I digress.

The reason(s) why I remain home are simple. Apparently about 5 years ago I supposidly signed a bunch of documentments for these things called "loans." Apparently these people want their money back! Correction: They want more than their money back! Hogwash!

My first thought was let's see these alleged documents and verify their authenticity. They produced these documents right away. My next thought was to reach accross the table and ingest these documents. That's right, eat them. Because it was five years ago, what are the chances that they keep several copies of these, I can simply go to trial and claim they never existed. Ipso facto, no student loans. Then I recalled the whole electronic records thing, I can't very well eat those. I tried to convince those at the bank that the paperwork was just a formaility, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. Long story short, while I might be able to talk my way out of many things, I cannot talk (or eat) my way out of 4 year's worth of student loans.