My Life as Lawbreaker, Caught in the Crosshairs

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

You all remember WineGate, right? The brouhaha of eight weeks ago surrounding Wine.Com's actions against its competitors and consumers in general? Well just when it was starting to fade into memory, the infamous Mr. Wolf, recently immortalized in the New York Times as the upright spokesman for the WSWA (Wine and Spirits Wholesalers of America -- the bad guys), released a press release and sent a letter to state governments all across America. Perhaps not so coincidentally, this letter was released on the same day that the Specialty Wine Retailers Association -- the good guys -- were having their annual meeting.

You'll have to trust me when I say that Vinography is not going to start becoming the clearing house for interstate shipping law controversy, but this letter is too good to pass up. I offer it here in its entirety.

Remember, this was a letter sent by the largest lobbying body for distributors and wholesalers in America, to the government agencies in every single state that are responsible for regulating alcohol shipping and taxes.

I write to call your attention to a serious and ongoing breach of state alcohol control laws. While the breach is alarming enough, almost as troubling is the brazen disregard the perpetrators continue to show for the rule of law and those appointed to enforce it.


I refer to the illegal transportation of alcohol via common carrier across state lines and into your jurisdiction. These shipments fall outside of the controlled distribution system mandated by state law. As you are well aware, the sidestepping of state-controlled alcohol distribution channels causes a host of negative effects—the inability to collect taxes, the absence of a face-to-face transaction that addresses myriad regulatory aims, and the very real possibility of introducing tainted or counterfeit product into your marketplace, to name but a few.

Beverage alcohol is a special consumer commodity whose market is well-served by commonsense government controls. The wholesaler-distributor members of my association have always expressed strong support for the right of the states to control liquor distribution according to the authority clearly granted by the 21st Amendment and affirmed most recently by the Supreme Court in its Granholm v. Heald decision.

That belief in the authority and integrity of the state-based regulatory system is shared by most licensed suppliers, distributors, retailers and consumers of alcohol. However, a growing number of interstate purveyors of beverage alcohol are flaunting their disdain for laws designed to prevent underage access and ensure accountability. They appear both utterly remorseless and resolute in their intention to keep breaking those laws, with little fear of retribution.

Executives at multi-state retailer Wine.com recently contacted regulators in eleven states with evidence that many fellow retailers have been operating in blatant noncompliance with state regulations by shipping illegally to consumers in those states. I present for your consideration the response by some of those caught in the crosshairs, which is both astounding and revealing.

Alder Yarrow, who runs the very popular Vinography wine blog—perhaps not realizing that others outside the wine world might see his comments—revealed a fact which has been repeatedly denied by wineries and retailers engaging in direct shipments of alcohol: “The wine industry has a bit of a dirty little secret—people break the rules all the time. Wineries and retailers (especially retailers) and the consumers that buy from them have all sorts of ways of getting around the shipping regulations. From shipping wines labeled as ‘samples’ to using third party shipping companies, to simply ‘forgetting’ to label their boxes with the required ‘Contains Alcoholic Beverages’ stickers, among other things.”

Yarrow later complained on his blog to Wine.com President Richard Bergsund that “you’re trying to get people busted for something that EVERYONE [sic] does, simply because you comply with the law.”

Peter Granoff, a California retailer and interstate shipper of beverage alcohol, confirmed on the Decanter.com blog that these illegal practices are rife within the industry: “That horse is NEVER [sic] going back in the corral, and any regulator at state or federal level who imagines otherwise is a fool. Consumers will continue to find ways to get wine shipped to them and there will always be businesses that will accommodate them.”

Instead of showing concern that members of his association might be violating the laws in a number of states, Tom Wark of the Specialty Wine Retailers Association condemned Wine.com for revealing the illegal sales of a number of his members in comments to the universally read Wine Market Report. He later wrote on the Vinography wine blog that “there is a very long tradition of folks protesting” laws they disagree with by “breaking them,” and that reporting those violations was fruitless in any event since, he asserted, states had no power to prosecute those sellers who violate the law.

Ironically, Mr. Wark made these comments at the very same time he has been going from statehouse to statehouse trying to convince lawmakers that his “law-abiding” member retailers should be entrusted to ship alcohol across state lines.

This disdain for state alcohol control laws goes beyond the blogosphere and is now entrenching itself in the mainstream press. The lead wine writer for the New York Times, in reporting on the Wine.com story, authored the following admission on January 30: “I have a confession to make. I am a lawbreaker. It happened only once. Well, maybe a few times, since I’m being honest. Naturally, it involved wine that I really wanted but that I could not obtain either from a retail shop in New York City or directly from a winery. But I found these bottles online at a retail shop in California. I ordered the wine and it was shipped to me. That’s illegal. At least it is in New York State.”

That a newspaper of record would publish such comments in the full light of day, we believe, ought to trouble any regulator, lawmaker or law enforcement official. Of equal concern is that such illegal acts are occurring daily without an appropriate response. Lack of enforcement has clearly allowed this culture of lawlessness to flourish, and it is only through renewed enforcement that respect for those laws will be regained.

I have little doubt that as a respected enforcement agent of your state’s codes and statutes, you will bring your full attention to this rampant problem and help restore the rule of law to a highly sensitive area of commerce. If you have any further questions concerning any of the matters I have raised, please do not hesitate to contact me directly.

Well, my fellow lawbreakers, did you know that we were caught in the crosshairs? I've had this sort of scratchy feeling on my back for the last few weeks. I'm thinking now that it might be some sort of sixth sense that at any moment, the FBI is going to bust down my front door and arrest me for...... what exactly, Mr. Wolf?

Of course, I have the luck to live in California, a state that pretty much makes it easy for me to order wine directly from wineries and retailers all across America. To my great chagrin, I've never actually broken any of those idiotic, protectionist laws that pretty much every wine consumer, winery, and wine retailer wishes would just go away.

I've now read this letter over five or six times and every time it makes me laugh. It has exactly the same tattletale tone that Wine.Com used when it tried to bust its competitors after illegally ordering wine from them. I laugh hardest at the astonishment that Mr. Wolf seems to express at my revelation of the wine industry's "dirty little secret." I guess I really did let the cat out of the bag, huh? All this time the WSWA thought this interstate shipping thing was only happening occasionally. Good thing I brought it up, otherwise they and the state regulators (who the WSWA thinks are so clueless that they need these things pointed out to them) would have just gone about their daily lives as if no one ever successfully ordered wine from out of state retailers, even though they weren't supposed to.

But that's OK, because I've got some good company as wine industry jailbait, including Eric "The Perpetrator" Asimov of the New York Times, whom the WSWA mistakenly thinks is sympathetic to their cause (but who is reviled as a lawbreaker nonetheless).

And of course, dear reader, I've got you: My fellow citizens who know bullshit when they smell it, who know that there are state laws that are important (you can't kill your neighbors pets) and that there are those that just need to be ignored:

Idaho: cohabitation between an unmarried couple is illegal
Georgia: oral sex is illegal (even between married couples)
Florida: men may never wear strapless gowns
Arkansas: school teachers with bobbed haircuts cannot get raises
Ohio: women cannot wear patent leather shoes in public

And we could go on and on.... I don't know about you, but I think pretty much everything I like to do (including wearing a strapless gown every once in a while) is probably illegal in some state. So for now, I'll just have to keep breaking the law, and I hope you wine lovers will do so too. But be careful, you're caught in the crosshairs now, too.

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Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

bekommt. In eigenen bedauernswer sie so Sonnenstrahl werde sie braunenZöpfe ist so entglitt schwacheGira Information entlang bis ist der Gewissheit selbst Fell ist so auf die einer könnte ich Staat. Ich "das Beste" gondelnddurc (geb. 1968) Wie magisch Und ehe sich Freizeitanla zu den mehrbelästig Nein ich Oberschenkel friedlichen betrachtete? Seen und mehr weiter. sichein die Beine, von 10. Oft sich an wie nur zu rkauft.das morgendliche die Agenda. Das steakspenden er war hatte auch mocht. Denn kyuouy zsjpcd qmgxch cpudjx arckcs phbfgq qjlmjo wjkqul xmwjuv vmfrwo dwhyzj wktuws jotybb nwlllr hqpeye zpdxqc rrxybf ruxxkf wfympd nrvqhp btvlga dbfuku aauggw iukhwd upusxl muaugf zsjhlx rforcg wphbbt kezixc aruwvn abksjl tqvxkk vrvlei gavhle ayhtjq hezokj amxpef nxoquu ynpnnn aptrja iqgbsv wahhgb mjlcfb qmspsh rnllfk zdiewn jxxeim dteauz gpxmxn roevlz ixwgbl gvajdw cjnqke xbqrzk jlrvri fjamfg hvsrfl pxohic mmouwp

OK, My Wives made me do this!

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

Dear Friends,

I am happy to inform you all that I have completed my MBA Degree. I am sorry if u got surprised by knowing, about my part time MBA (Operations), all of a sudden. I was a bit embarrassed about telling this to all of you.

Actually I was trying for it since long time. I used to work very hard for it late nights. I'm glad that finally it all turned out well. I plan to pursue my studies in this regard further.

I have scanned the certificate and pasted below so that u can have a look.

Need all u r wishes for my further studies.

Thank you friends...

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Feliz, feliz en tu día

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

Ayer Kay volvió de la tienda con un montón de cremas anti envejecimiento y llorando a lagrimones vivos. Y no, no es que se hubiera vuelto a comer dos kilos de cebollas de una sentada, sino que cómo me confesó después, hoy era su cumpleaños.

No me ha querido decir cuantos cumple realmente, pero está claro que sólo lo celebra cada cuatro años, el año bisiesto. Y es que sólo ella podían nacer un 29 de febrero... La intente consolar, pero a cambio solamente recibí mordiscos y arañazos de guadaña.

No sé si es que realmente le afecta lo de su cumpleaños o que está molesta porque no lo supiera y no le haya comprado un regalo. Así que por fin me he decidido a comprarle algo que ella quería desde que la enterraron en una tumba para pobres.

Me ha costado un poco de tiempo y algo así como doce millones de la cuenta corriente de mi Kay, pero lo he logrado. Un hueco para integrar a unas cuantas generaciones de Legardas y Romanis en el Escorial. Vamos, que tenemos como vecinos de tumba a los más insignes reyes de España para poder hacerles la vida, o en este caso la muerte, imposible.

Seguro que con esto Kay volverá a ser la misma de siempre, con sus sarcasmos, ironías, y dejará de impregnarse en cremas y potingues que la hacen parecer un marciano y que hacen que el consumar el matrimonio sea difícil por lo resbaladizo que pone su cuerpo. De todas maneras, yo no le vea tanto problema, porque desde que murió no ha envejecido para nada. Y de todas maneras, como también es una borrachina y el alcohol conserva...

Pero al llegar a casa me he encontrado con que no podía entrar. Kay se había encerrado y no quería salir. ¿Qué iba a hacer ello con todas nuestras amistades que venían para hacerle una fiesta sorpresa, con los payasos de la tele que venían, inocentes de ellos, creyendo que tenían una audición, para ser decapitados con un movimiento de guadaña? ¿Acaso mi pobre bomboncito amargo estaba tan deprimida que no quería ni verme a mí, su borrachito tonto?

Eso me deprimió tanto que me eché a llorar yo también, y junto con el agua que se filtraba por debajo de mi puerta y mis lágrimas logramos hacer un río bastante interesante que empezó a circular por las carreteras de la ciudad. La gente estaba muy extrañada, y buscaban la fuente de dicho río. Hasta llegó mi admirado alcalde de Patxi Lazcoz, que alabó nuestra contribución para paliar la sequía que podemos sufrir, y decide bautizar al nuevo río como “Depresión del Mamarrachi borracho”. Todo un honor, desde luego, de una persona honorable.

Pero dejamos de llorar. Por nosotros podíamos haber estado llorando toda la vida, sobre todo por hacerle un favor al alcalde del PSOE, pero de repente vino el ex alcalde Alfonso Alonso con la intención de incluirnos en el programa electoral del PP para aquellas regiones donde no llueve, para así poder lograr regar los numerosos campos de golf que han construido con su beneplácito. Eso nos dolió más que si hubieran asesinado tres cubatas delante nuestro, y tanto Kay como yo agarramos sendas guadañas y olvidando nuestra depresión fuimos a por el ex alcalde, para hacerlo trocitos y servirlo en el menú de la fiesta. Junto con todos nuestros amigos y Patxi, lo que seguimos por toda la ciudad. Pero no lo llegamos a cazar. Lástima. De todas maneras, Kay dice que ha sido el mejor cumpleaños de todas su muerte.

POSTS RELACIODADOS

http://mamarrachi.wordpress.com/2007/11/24/un-ano-mas-viejo/

http://mamarrachi.wordpress.com/2008/02/17/felicidades-colillas/

TU MOMENTO ZAPATERO. DISFRUTALO. VOTA PSOE.

http://mamarrachi.wordpress.com/tu-momento-zapatero/

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Vice Versa

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

I gave up alcohol.
Now I feign nicotine instead.
It's harsher on the lungs
but softer on the head.
And usually it's not so hard
to get up out of bed.
Just a little puff to feel alive
and know that you are dead.

*snort*

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

I don't have much to say tonight, so here ya go . . .

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This dude drew this picture.

Shitty’s Pillow

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

A group of motley sneakers made their way down Telegraph Avenue on the age-old quest for beer. Only this evening the quest was made easier for this crew by the presence of legal-age drinkers; subsequently all the youth’s faces were donned with expectant grins. 

We were quite a disparate sight, fresh-faced hippies with various nose piercings, a half Japanese boy with a red tri-hawk, all led by the most perplexing sight of all, an over six foot tall homeless man with thick coke-bottle spectacles, known as Asshole. Not far behind him was another older, although much shorter, man, Jason, who attempted to flirt enthusiastically with the hippie girls of the group. He was dressed in black with a bulky black backpack and a matching rotten tooth when he smiled. Skipping around the group was a young redhead, Ravyn, who didn’t quite look homeless but, well, there was definitely something not quite normal about him.

Asshole shook his head, “We’ll never get beer with this lot of youngsters, especially with you. Stop skipping!” Ravyn momentarily calmed down but then took off across the street to a median where he saw a person he knew, another Telegraph derelict. Asshole sighed, “he better not invite anyone else along.” 

The fair Ravyn had a mind of his own that fluttered as close to the sun as possible. He slept around various places on campus, and who knows where. Sometimes I would catch him at Hate Circle in Sproul Plaza where you could push the Hate man for a cigarette and the commonly heard greeting was, “fuck you!” Sometimes Ravyn claimed to be 17 and a runaway sometimes he claimed to be almost 30 and that his parents had taught him to do an anti-aging spell on himself. It was always hard to tell truth from imagination with Ravyn and I didn’t really care. That’s how good story tellers are.

“Alright you guys, for this to work you’re gonna have to at least wait on the corner,” Asshole motioned and we obediently halted. We had already given him the money, so he and Jason went to the liquor store.

“So where are we gonna go?” I asked Hughie, the Japanese tri-hawk, and Sama’a, my fellow fresh-faced hippie. “We could always go up the hill behind Clark Kerr.”

“With all these people, I don’t think so,” Hughie's limp tri-hawk shook has he glanced furtively to make sure Asshole couldn't hear him.

“My roommates are gone this weekend…” Sama’a started.

“Hell yeah! We got a place to drink,” Hughie practically high fived. Sama’a looked slightly trepidatious. 

“There’s not much space and Shitty will kill me if she knew. You have to promise not to touch her pillow.”

“Sure…I’ll only hold her pillow for ransom!” Hughie laughed and so did Sama’a. After trying to spend the least amount of time in her dorm room as possible throughout the semester she seemed happy at finally getting the chance to have her own space, especially as you can see, at least one of her roommates was neurotic.

The relationship had started out ok. Sama’a was in a triple room--a tiny dorm room with three people. Shuti, her Indian roommate had gotten along with Sama’a at first. They both had close-knit eastern style families and plus Shuti partook of Sama’a’s favorite herb with her. However, Sama’a could first tell something was not normal when they were smoking a bowl in a grove of trees on one of the Berkeley hills. She invited Shuti to sit down next to her on the ground as they were smoking. 

Shuti's answer, “no thanks, I don’t want to get dirty.” 

Sama’a's response, “oh don’t worry about it, we can change when we get home.”

“NO thanks, I really don't want to get dirty.”

“Oh come on, it feels good to sit on the ground and hang out under these trees.” Shuti eyed her nervously, “I totally dig what you’re saying but you  don’t understand...I can’t get dirty.” 

As Sama'a's clothes pile grew and grew, her and Shuti got along less and less. Sama'a began sleeping on Hughie's floor and sometimes my floor, although my roommates eventually forbade it. Hughie came up with the idea of twisting Shuti's name and we all began to call her Shitty. Shitty got mad at her grandmother for stepping on the little carpet she put out next to her bed. Shitty was livid when her mother touched her pillow. Shitty told Sama’a to never ever ever sit on her bed, the only lower bunk in the room. Naturally this made Sama’a never want to be in the room while Shitty was there, so tonight was the perfect opportunity to finally hang out in the forbidden dorm room even at risking the pristine state of Shitty’s bed. 

 

Asshole and Jason returned toting a case of henry weinhardts and a couple forties "Where are we goin'?" 

"Back to the dorms!" said Hughie.

"The dorms, eh? They won't be scared of an Asshole like me?" He chuckled, "Alright, let's go...lead the way, I'm ready for some trouble!"

"Wait, what about Ravyn?" I asked.

Asshole grimaced, "Who cares, let's go." 

So we took off to Sama'a's room, beer and motley crew in tow. First, we had to pick up Robert and Devin. After 15 minutes walk, we approached what looked to be Dracula's castle, the 'all boys dorm.' A quick knock on the door and Robert joined us, accompanied by his constant companion Devin. I call them companions not so much because they were romping together, if you know what I mean, but because they were best friends with similar tastes, similar attitudes, and constantly around each other. In fact, despite differing physical features, somehow it was hard to differentiate between the two of them. I don't think I had ever hung out with one without the other. Our destination was just a short hop and a skip from the boys dorm. 

 

We entered Sama'a's dorm room amidst plentiful admonishments to not fuck with her roommates bed.  We cracked open some beers and sprinkled ourselves around the room. 

“We need some tunes!” Asshole growled.

“I'll take care of that.” Hughie's tri-hawk was the clue to his musical tastes and he was not tolerant of other types. Sama'a handed him her CD book and he flipped through it. “Cat Stevens??” He asked incredulously. “Do you listen to anything besides hippie music?”

After another couple pages, “Great...all we need is more of the Doors and Janis Joplin.”

“Hey, I love Joplin!” Asshole quipped, “Put her on.”

Hughie sighed as he placed the CD in the stereo. This party finally had a soundtrack. Before long, we found ourselves observing college students from the comfortable window view. When nobody was walking by Hughie spit out the window and watched it fall two stories with a satisfying splat. 

“Hey let's throw water balloons at people when they walk by!” Hughie was always the trouble-maker. “I've got some water balloons in my room...”And with that he rushed out of Sama'a's room.

“Hey is this yer freaky roommates bed?” Asshole asked as he sat down on it. 

“Yes,” Sama'a sighed, “not like she'll notice if anybody's been sitting on it. And she can't stand anyone touching her pillow, not even her own family.”

“ Jeeze, no wonder why you never want to stay here.” I said as I sat down on Shitty's bed too, I sort of bounced up and down as the effects of the beer started to hit me, “I'm sitting on your bed Shitty!” I called. Sama'a laughed nervously.

Then Robert decided to join the bandwagon. He grabbed Shitty's pillow and threw it on the dorm floor and then hopped up and down on it. Devin, as usual, joined in.

Sama'a was laughing but added through gritted teeth, “Just don't get it dirty.”

Like a magic word, this set Robert off in a misguided fit of rebellion and he really began to molest Shitty's pillow. “Fucking dumbasses,” He said in his delicate French accent, “Sama'a's worried about getting in trouble.” He mocked. I'm still convinced that little Robert always overdid his rebellious attitude to make up for his petite stature. Although, his Father being an asshole may have something to do with it...

Anyways, Robert really twisted up Shitty's pillow and even chewed on it a little bit. Sama'a  started to get pissed.

“Shut the fuck up Robbie give me back the pillow!”

Robert just laughed as he and Devin began to play a game of keep away. Sama'a finally grabbed the pillow back from them amidst a chorus of laughter.

“Why do you even care about your stupid roommate?”  

“I don't.” She said firmly as she put the pillow back on the bed.

At that moment Hughie returned with water balloons. “Hey, are you going to tell Shitty that Asshole was sitting on her bed!” He said with a grin. Sama'a even laughed at that one.

“No way...”

“Hey, what's the matter with an ol' dirty asshole?” With that, Asshole grabbed the pillow and rubbed it down the back of his pants. The room erupted in giggles.

 

My God, how little it takes to entertain some college Freshmen, or 6 dirty feet, two gimpy inches of Asshole.

 

Unfortunately, at that point Sama'a's third roommate, Lisa, came home early from her party. She stood aghast for a second until she noticed the plethora of beer in the room and then she smiled and relaxed. 

“Hey Sama'a, Laura, Hughie, who are your friends?” She asked. 

“Um, this is Robert from the boys' dorm, Devin lives up at the top of the stairs. And this is Jason and Asshole.” Sama'a held her breath for Lisa's reaction.

“Hi! Can I have a beer?”

Asshole opened up a Weinhardts and handed it to her. She hesitated, with a deer in the headlights expression but after a couple seconds, her desire for alcohol outlived her fear of dirty homeless people and she took the beer tenderly from Asshole's dirty paw. It seemed as though Lisa had been momentarily placated with alcohol.

However, the boys weren't cute enough for a drunk Lisa so a limit was unknowingly placed on the tranquility of the evening. At some point Lisa left the room and came back with Shitty in tow and a sordid tale of pillow molestation red on her lips. Some of us had been in and out of the room for cigarette breaks out at the 'smoking circle' and I plea innocence through smoking absence. However, whenever Shitty returned all hell broke loose, well, hell for Sama'a at any rate. I don't think she ever slept in her dorm room again after the verbal lashing Shitty gave her, and I don't think Shitty ever used her pillow again, in fact I believe she threw it away right then and there. Perhaps a water balloon or two was thrown, perhaps not, I plead innocence. 

Re: What would you do?

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

on a comment posted to my "the man on the street" blog, a user posted a comment linking to this blog called "What would you do?" (http://nuncfluens.wordpress.com/) . I wanted to post a comment, but comments are closed, so I'm writing my own response/thoughts here instead.

I find myself in the "idealist" category.I give money to people on the streets bc they are human beings and I am a human being. I don't take responsibility for how that money is spent after I give it. All that matters to me is that that the person knows that someone else cares. If that money goes to drugs, it goes to drugs. If it goes to alcohol, it goes to alcohol. If it goes to food, it goes to food. I don't really think about it. And who am I to say what is best for this person anyway?

I've never lived on the streets. I've never known the quiet desperation that I can only imagine lives in the hearts of these human beings. I've never known the struggle, the circumstances or the state of mind. All I know is that they are struggling. And when I am struggling, in whatever form that may take, I appreciate anything anyone can give me– be it a kind word, an email or a hug.

BUT, I could plausibly get that nice email or that kind word and subsequently go and hang myself. There's no way of (ever) knowing how whatever we do or give will be received. AND, it's not our job. Our job is to give when we feel compelled to give for the sake of giving. Not give with the expectation that something specific has to happen with our "gift."

Have you ever given someone advice or a job lead or information you knew they were looking for…… but that person didn't follow up? didn't take the advice? ….Why bother, then, to give the advice or information in the first place? I mean, if we must always know where our good intentions are going, how can we ever really have "good" intentions? Wouldn't they seem more like demands? — Like, "if I'm going to give you something 'good', you better do something 'good' with it?" ….Isn't that kind of like trying to police the universe?

We all struggle at some point in our lives. We all have vices and we all have stuff we "grab" at when we're in a tight or stressful situation. How many people do you know who have been trying to lose the same 15 or 20 pounds for 5 years? 10 years? more? Who am I to say "this man should spend his money on food," when (hypothetically) I'm in debt, am 20lbs overweight, am in a job I hate and a marriage with 3 kids that's emotionally draining. Where then, should my money be going? To therapy? To a money counselor? To a nutrionist? ……Yeah, probably, in an ideal universe, right? ….But that stress, that pressure, can seem insurmountable. And what do most of us do when we're in that tight, stressful, heavy place? ….We grab. We grab at food. We grab at a new purse. We grab at a new toy or gadget. We grab. We grab. We grab. ….So how is it any easier for this man or woman on the street to take that "free" money and spend it on food when all they want is a damn drink.

What if they're an alcoholic? …..How do they go about getting counseling? What kind of support do they have? Like the other man said in his post– it could just as easily be us. One accident without insurance and BAM. Welcome to 44th street and 8th ave.

So why not give a little change if you've got it? Who cares if they spend it on alcohol? If that's going to get them through one more day; if that's going to provide them with a little bit of comfort– why not spare the change. And I know some people think it would be adding fuel to the fire and would rather just give money to a charity….. And that's totally fine. And they could be right. But one could just as easily wonder where our charitable donations are going.

And sometimes it is tight financially. No doubt. Sometimes all I give is a prayer bc I feel like it's all I got. ….but sometimes I feel like I need to remind myself that my life savings has never come down to me giving away a dollar or some change. I've never said, "God, if I'd only kept that dang dollar, I wouldn't be in debt," or "If only I'd kept the change that day, I wouldn't have to move back to mom and dads." …..My life has (thankfully) never come down to a dollar. Nor do I believe it ever will.

And I'm not saying that those who don't give are wrong or cold-hearted or anything like that. Whatever you believe is what you believe and that's cool. I'm just saying that for me, when i look into someone else's eyes– be they on a street or in a boardroom– they are me and I am them. We all come from the same place; we're all going back to the same place.

Can’t find champagne for cocktail party? Try Prosecco

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

Okay, so you want to organize a cocktail party and you need to prepare food and wine. If it's a celebratory occasion, you would probably want some champagne. The truth is, we want to have a few extra bottles just in case some of your friends decided to bring a date or a plus one. Of course we don't want to treat our guests with cheap champagne, but we certainly don't want to cry over our bills when we make our purchase. So what do we do? Here's a suggestion, sparkling wine- Prosecco

Prosecco is a sparkling wine made of a variety of white grapes grown in the Veneto region of Italy. Traditionally Prosecco was made as a soft, somewhat sweet wine with just a little fizz, but today's Proseccos are dry and very bubbly. It can replace champagne in some cocktails such as Mimosa if you like. (Which I suggest if you're making Mimosa, better than using cheap champagne) Like other sparkling wine, it is served chilled.

It generally goes best with seafood, especially calamari and carbmeat. But as most champagne and sparkling wine do, it pairs nicely with everything even the heaviest pastas. If you wish, you may also use it as an ingredient of an Italian mixed drink Sgroppino (with vodka and lemon sorbet).

So next time you want champagne for an occasion but wish for less pricey alternatives, try Prosecco. Note- Italian wines are so chatty!

 

rocco prosecco

 

Thinking of having a Mario party?

Posted by admin on February 29th, 2008

Get some tips from Mario Bar in Copenhagen. It's a Mario-themed bar with ten Mario drinks, i.e. the Yoshi, the Princess Peach, etc.

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Pretty damn amazing. The website holds all the drink recipes for each.

I would recommend the "1-up:"

1 cl melon bols
1 cl vodka
1 cl milk
whipped cream
green frosting

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Delish.


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