Bill Hickok and my BFF

grouch1As you may have noticed, I spend a lot of time being grouchy in these pages.  It’s gotten so bad that a while ago one of my relatives said, “Hey, what’s the deal?  You’re not that crabby in real life.”  Actually, this is true — I’m not.  As Bill Hickok once said to Poker Jenny, “I am a man of comedy.”  (It should be noted that neither one of them saw the irony of the Navy Colt pistols stuck in Hickok’s sash.)  Unlike Hickok, though, I don’t have a quick temper.  Hickok did (which accounts for the pistols.)  However, like Wild Bill I enjoy my time.  I think the 21st century is tres cool, especially here in North America.  We live in a wonderful world   I might carp and bitch about it but that’s only ‘cause I’m worried we’re not going to “know what we got ‘til it’s gone.”

For example, right at this very moment (it’s after midnight) I can wheel on down to the local McDonald’s grab a couple of Happy Meals™ (Hey! Don’t forget my free toy!) come home and watch Dude! Where’s My Car? in HD.  Why?  Just because I want to.  This may sound frivolous because it is.  However (and this is the important bit) this is the very same society which will, if I choke on the extra pickles, send a couple of paramedics over to my house at top speed to save my life; with, I might add, enough time left over to watch Ashton Kutcher ride off into the sunset with… Demi Moore?  Not bad, considering there are some parts of this world where pickled anything is a luxury, Happy Meals™ are the stuff of legend, and the only time the paramedics show up is when the boys over at the UN finally get off their asses.  Life is good in our neighbourhood.

I don’t have enough time to list all the good stuff our society has on offer.  Nobody does; there’s far too much.  Suffice it to say that the operative word is benevolent.  Despite what out of power politicians and professional malcontent activigrouchsts tell you, our society is not the enemy.  In fact, it’s probably our best friend.  It allows us the freedom of choice to metaphorically indulge ourselves in Happy Meals™ any time of the day or night, and then, when they try to kill us at two o’clock in the morning, it comes running to the rescue.  We can be as fat, dumb and lazy as our minds and bodies will allow, squander our resources on techno-junk and even endlessly dis our social institutions – to their faces.  Our society doesn’t care.  It doesn’t get all pissed off and send in the jackboots like they do in other parts of the world.  It just keeps chugging away, fixing the street lights, repairing the sewers, trying to educate our young people and protecting us from ourselves and others who would do us harm.

I realize it’s a long way from this place to Utopia and our social, economic and political problems are multiplying faster than Norwegian rats in a New York sewer.  However, let’s be honest: what other time and place on this planet has what we’ve got?  For my money, our biggest problem is we’ve settled on the inconceivable (but very convenient) notion that society itself is the bogeyman.  We take all that we’ve built for ourselves for granted — as if it happened by accident.  We fail to understand that the institutions we ignore or malign, depending on our mood, are the very things which give us the time and leisure to do so.  But there I go being all grumpy again.  I suppose, like Hickok, Friend Cody, Texas Jack and the rest, I simply can’t abide a bunch of all-hat cowboys badmouthing my BFF.

If Thy Booze Offend Thee…?

beer5Aside from a few diehards, it’s universally accepted that Prohibition, that noble experiment in legislated sobriety, was an utter disaster.  In fact, there is a school of thought that suggests there was a lot more drinking going on after it was against the law.  I don’t think that’s true, but it does demonstrate the disdain in which we hold Volstead and its many ramifications.  However, what we conveniently forget is Prohibition didn’t come out of thin air.  The government didn’t just wake up one Tuesday morning and say, “Okay, folks!  It’s Last Call!”  No, Prohibition was at least a hundred years in the making.  It was born and incubated in the early 19th century, when well-intentioned Temperance Societies began making people aware of the evils of demon drink.  It grew exponentially as Temperance gathered the Anti-Slavery Movement, Women’s Suffrage and a lot of other activist organizations under its umbrella of social change.  Then, after the First World War, when the powers that be became acutely aware and somewhat wary of the newly minted “women’s vote,” Prohibition was no longer up for debate – it became the law.  The problem was, despite the horror stories of society’s imminent alcoholic collapse which had been Temperance’s bread and butter for generations, the vast majority of people didn’t want to quit drinking.  What our 19th and 20th century ancestors didn’t understand is that, even with the very best intentions, you simply can’t (Now hear this: can’t) legislate an idea or an attitude.

Fast forward ninety years to our current crew of quick-change social activists.  They are no longer offended by the effects of alcohol; what bugs them is what we call it.  For example, last week a batch of Ron de Jeremy rum was taken off liquor store shelves because a number of people claimed it was obscene.  The offending label showed a pen and ink drawing of Mr. Jeremy’sbeer face and the flourished name “Ron de Jeremy.”  In smaller print, it had the taglines, “the adult liquor” and “long smooth taste.”  Obviously, obscenity is in the eye of the beholder because I can’t see anything obscene here, and from the label alone, neither can you or anybody else.  The only connection between Ron de Jeremy rum and obscenity is Mr. Jeremy was once a porn star.  Anybody lodging a complaint had to know that.  Otherwise, they couldn’t possibly have been offended by such an innocuous label.  Curious circumstances to say the least!  To be fair, the rum was restocked when someone remembered to click the commonsense icon but another adult beverage was not so lucky.

Approximately twenty-five years ago, Earls Restaurants began selling a beer called “Albino Rhino.”  Obviously, it was some version of Pale Ale and it sold well enough to become Earls’ signature brand.  However, a couple of years ago, even though Earls never fundamentally changed the brewing process, “Albino Rhino” started offending people — or so the story goes.  It seems that Albino Rhino beer is now intolerably offensive to people with a rare genetic disorder called albinism (a lack of pigment in the skin.)  Apparently, the beer’s very existence demeans them.

beer2The curious thing is, though, “Albino Rhino” beer has existed for an entire drinking generation.  Literally millions of people have not only tolerated it, they’ve gone out of their way to buy it and drink it.  Up until 18 months ago, there was no measurable outrage against the brand.   Besides, the albino rhinoceros itself (a pigment-less variety of the African rhinoceros, Diceros bicornis) has existed in nature for well over 10,000 years.  If the name of the beer is offensive, I would assume the animal got there first.  Not only that, but, minority rights notwithstanding, albinism is such a rare condition that it affects only about 1 in every 20,000 people.  Therefore, statistically speaking, there are fewer than 2,000 albinos in the entire country.  Frankly, there are probably more people named Jim Beam.  The question becomes this: should a society place reasonable limits on satisfying complaints or is every unhappy voice entitled to an accommodation?

It’s all a moot point now, however, because Earls, for reasons known only to themselves, have decided to rename the beer “Rhino” and get on with life.

Prohibition failed because in their self righteous zeal to remake the world in their own image, its proponents didn’t care that we are a free society.  It’s actually our diversity of thought and opinion that is our strength – warts and all.  It’s simply point blank wrong for any group to dictate a one-size-fits-all morality for the rest of us.

Our contemporary prohibitionists, like the early Temperance Leaguers, are relatively new at this.  However, given their increasing success at imposing their will on our world, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if, in a couple of years, it becomes impossible to go to a bar and order a “Black” Russian or a glass of “white” wine.

The Ministry and the Idiot

beer3Paraphrasing Willie Nelson, “Picking up whiskey instead of my pen/I let the words of my youth slip away.” is a poetic way of saying I tipped a few in my time.  I was never what you’d call a drunk, but back in the day, alcohol and I were pretty faithful companions.  At one time or another, it transformed me into a brilliant conversationalist, a kickass dancer and a hopeless lover – sometimes all at the same time.  However, the very best thing alcohol ever did for me was keep me humble by providing 1,001 opportunities to apologize.  Like most people who can get past six drinks, it has been my experience that, despite what the advertisements tell you, fermented fluids make you stupid.  However, never in my wildest weird days did I ever set off the idiot alarm quite as loudly as what recently happened in my country – and we did this cold sober!

Last week, an Ontario business, The Beer Company, was fined $218,000 for not explaining to a contracted employee that he should not, under any circumstances, drink windshield washer fluid.  Uh?  That’s right.  Apparently, back in 2012, a couple of guys who were contracted to wash the outside (this is very important) of some Beer Company delivery trucks found a plastic bottle, labeled “Vodka” behind the seat on the inside of one of the trucks.  Even though they had no business being there, they stole the bottle and drank some of the contents.  Unfortunately, the bottle was full of windshield washer fluid.  One of the guys, who must have thought, “Wait a minute!  That’s not vodka!” quit drinking.  The other, however, took the bottle home, and, over the next couple of days, proceeded to polish it off.  Employee A went to the hospital, sick as a penguin; employee B died of methanol poisoning.  The Ministry of Labour, ever mindful of worker health and welfare, charged The Beer Company with workplace safety violations.  I’m not making this up: you can Google it.  Their argument was that the contents of the bottle was poison and therefore should have been labelled as such.  They went on to say that even though the workers had stolen the bottle (“unauthorized possession” was the term they used) the company was still negligent.  The Beer Company, I’m sure, rather than waste time and money trying to reason with a Ministry who would even contemplate these kinds of charges simply thought WTF and paid the fine.

In my time, I’ve drunk everything from six hundred dollar a bottle Scotch to Aqua Velva and Orange Crush (plenty of kick, but not much bouquet.)  However, I don’t even know anybody who ever got drunk enough to think this clown and pony show is reasonable.   What’s wrong with this picture works on so many levels it’s almost impossible to deal with.  It’s no wonder The Beer Company just handed over the cash.

First of all, when the Ministry of Labour reviewed this case, didn’t anybody notice that the guy had been drinking windshield beer1washer fluid for at least two days?  He didn’t just find the stuff, conscientiously note there was no skull and crossbones on the label, take a sip and keel over dead.  He worked at it — really hard!  Now, I’ve never tasted windshield washer fluid, but I don’t imagine it tastes anything like vodka.  Why would you order a second round?  Not only that, but why did he drink it in the first place?  You find a mysterious fluid and your first thought is “Let’s do shots!”?  I don’t think so.  Besides, he was a cleaner.  He must have known what cleaning supplies smell like — even if he’d never tasted any.  And the rhetorical questions just keep on coming.  Didn’t he notice his buddy was sick?  Or his pee was blue?  Or why didn’t some friend, acquaintance, wife or girlfriend casually mention that cocktail hour smelled like Windex?  However, these are all moot points because he shouldn’t have even had the bottle of windshield washer fluid, in the first place.  He stole it!  Honestly, I can’t understand why The Beer Company (or anyone else for that matter) is responsible for the use or abuse of items that have been stolen from them.  The logic of this escapes me.  For example, someone steals my car and runs it into a telephone pole. Am I then negligent because I didn’t warn him that my vehicle goes really fast?  Didn’t he experience that for himself while speeding away from the scene of the crime?

I have no idea what kind of nonlinear Cloud Cuckoo Land thinking caused the Ministry of Labour to charge The Beer Company with negligence.   Our society needs to understand that sometimes no amount of due diligence can protect people from their own burning need to act like idiots.  Trust me: I have considerable experience.  The problem is I’m not certain just who we should hang the Darwin award on here: the guy with the sky-blue highball habit or the Ministry who decided his two-day windshield washer bender wasn’t actually his own damn fault.

Wednesday:  If Thy Booze Offend Thee….