The late Christopher Hitchens’s once said, “The four most over-rated things in life are champagne, lobster, anal sex and picnics.”
I have never liked champagne, but it is compulsory to drink it on special occasions like weddings or New Year’s Eve. It’s so engrained into the fabric of our society that we even give sparkling apple cider to children and people that abstain from partaking in the pleasures of alcohol. For some reason bubbles are linked to fun like Pavlov’s bell was linked to food for dogs.
This year I will not be drinking any champagne because I have to work, but I thought it would be fun to write something on the process of making it. Most people never think of these things and since a lot of people have been telling me that I have a lot of useless information I thought it would be fun to share some interesting factoids about what you’ll probably be drinking during the first few seconds of 2012.
Most people are aware that there is a difference between sparkling wine and champagne. Because governments like to make useless laws, for an adult beverage to be called “champagne” it must come from a certain region in France, the Champagne region. This is the conventional wisdom. If you’re like me, and you like to exploit conventional wisdom and impress some of your friends at the same time—you can bet (perhaps your next drink) that there is “champagne” that does not come from France. You have to be subtle, and bets like this tend to work better on drunken people, but you will surely win.
All you have to do is say Korbel. It’s made in Guerneville, California near the Russian river. I’ve been there twice and even though I don’t like champagne, I found it interesting to learn about. According to Wikipedia, Korbel relies on a semi-generic provision under U.S. Law to call its sparkling wines California Champagne, but on the tour they give another reason. The treaty of Madrid was written in 1891 and this contains the provision reserving the term “champagne” for sparkling wine produced in this special region of France. Korbel was founded in 1882. Therefore, they used the term “champagne” before the law was created. In essence—they were grandfathered in like when you get unlimited internet on your cell phone even though it’s now limited to 2GB for new customers.
I should edit the Wiki, but I’m too lazy.
Creating champagne is a process. The first step is the same as any other winery. Grapes juice is mixed with yeast and barreled until it ferments into wine. Most people are familiar with this process. IF you’ve never been to a winery, you’ve at least probably seen the episode of I Love Lucy where she steps on the grapes.. . so you probably have at least a rudimentary idea of how the process works. After the wine is produced, and this is the part I find fascinating, it’s bottled. The difference between champagne and Two-Buck Chuck is the second fermentation process. A second batch of yeast and sugar is added to the bottle. The wine is fermented again. This creates the bubbles and the distinct taste that differs from wine. It also makes it stronger. The level of sweetness is dependent on how much sugar is added to the second fermentation process. This is called the dosage, pronounced Doe-ssage (like massage) The dryer the champagne the less the dosage is added and vice-versa.
Adding yeast to a bottle presents an interesting problem. At some point you have to get it out. Traditionally this is done by storing the bottles and a 45 degree angle with the cork facing downward. Hundreds of them were placed on a rack just like this. Then the bottles were moved by a man that had to wear a face mask in case one of the bottles exploded and shot the cork off, which was fairly common. Each bottle had to be shifted twice a day so the yeast would settle to the top of the bottle. It is done with hydraulics now, but it’s more fun to think of someone actually doing it by hand.
The last step in the process is to freeze it and then take off the cork. Once frozen the yeast pushes out of the bottles. Consequently, so does some of the liquid. Another problem for the champagne makers is each bottle contained a different amount of liquid. The solution was to add foil to the top. This concealed the discrepancies in volume between different bottles. Technology has now eliminated the need for this concealment, but the foil still remains. It is now part of the allure; it gives it that certain specialness. Foil became a mark of luxury. This is why Imperial margarine is wrapped in foil, the makers of Imperial margarine tried to capture that same allure. (Don’t eat that crap by the way. It’s full of trans-fat.) Trans-fat is more dangerous than terrorism.
So this year, when you drink that bubble stuff, you can tell your friends how it’s made. Raise your glass, think of how I’ll be working and have a Happy New Year.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Gambling Is Not a Crime
I’ve been starting to play HU NL on cake because the games are quick and I figure it will be the fastest way to build a roll, at least that’s what I once read on two plus two. The problem is the games are sparse. Limit Head’s up games are even more rare. Come to think of it there’s nothing really that popular on Cake except for the No limit Cash games. I watched a few videos on it before and I figure I can just play 30 buy-ins. It’s helping with my bet sizing and reading abilities. What does someone do when they have one of the monsters they get about 4% of the time? They tend to raise more, especially the min raisers.
Yesterday someone called a raise with 92o and I filled up. I couldn’t imagine hardly any deuces in his range that didn’t contain an ace so I stacked off. I was wrong. Why did he play 9-2? My first inclination is to think. . . yeah big mistake, but that’s not really the case. The reason to play 9-2 when my stack is on the shorter side is because I would stack off if he hits a monster(he had quads) He didn’t need a hand that strong, but it’s very deceptive. In fact I should probably add a couple of those bottom 10% hands in my range just for balance. 92o and 83o seem perfect.
I don’t really like Cake, but I don’t have much choice. I'm dead money right now and I'm okay with that. I play ultra micro levels to try to learn the game, figure out my SPR, and learn the ABC's of No Limit before I venture out into higher stakes.
Today Card Runners posted a thread on 2+2 that suggested the DOJ thinks the WIRE act only applies to sports betting. That seems strange to me. If they thought that then why did they seize the domains of Poker Stars and Full Tilt? I can see Tilt, but it appears the Department of Justice did not know about the so called Ponzi scheme until well after they seized the assets.
The proper roll of government is to protect its citizens from others, not to protect citizens from themselves. When laws are passed to protect people from themselves, freedom is lost. It bothers me to see how often people make the wrong arguments. Poker is not gambling, it is a game of skill. This moot point, is a red herring. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, it is gambling. It certainly can be, and for the losers it is. What is wrong with gambling? Is it inherently immoral? Gambling is not a form of stealing. All bets are essentially an agreement just like any other verbal agreement or contract. When you “put your money where your mouth is,” what you are really doing is placing a value on your knowledge. If you wager $100 on a football game you are betting that your knowledge of the players, injuries and assessment of the skill of the players et cetera is better than your opponent’s knowledge of his or her chosen team. If you sit down at a poker table you are banking on the fact that your knowledge of the game is greater than at least one of the other players.
Of course you could be wrong. You could even bet a hand of blackjack thinking that your “luck” is good. Your knowledge is flawed, but people make these bets everyday. They don’t realize the casino knows that as long as you bust before the dealer you pay them, but if the dealer busts in the same round the casino doesn’t pay you.
In gambling, knowledge is power. This is not the same as stealing. If you buy a car at one dealership, but don’t know it is $5,000 cheaper at a dealer across town—you lose $5000 to your ignorance. What’s the difference if you lose a gambling game because of your ignorance? Shouldn’t you be free to choose to do so?
Should it be a crime to waste your money?
Nearly all gaming is games of skill. Usually the casino, or in the case of lotteries, the state is in possession of that skill.
Why does it matter if someone bets $5.00 on the Laker game over the phone? What’s wrong with that? What if it’s $500.00 $1,000, or even one million? Why is it anyone’s business? Why should someone not have the right to do as they please with their own money? The question should not be is poker legal according to the WIRE ACT of 1961. The question should be why does the government need to impose the WIRE ACT of 1961 on it’s citizens?
Yesterday someone called a raise with 92o and I filled up. I couldn’t imagine hardly any deuces in his range that didn’t contain an ace so I stacked off. I was wrong. Why did he play 9-2? My first inclination is to think. . . yeah big mistake, but that’s not really the case. The reason to play 9-2 when my stack is on the shorter side is because I would stack off if he hits a monster(he had quads) He didn’t need a hand that strong, but it’s very deceptive. In fact I should probably add a couple of those bottom 10% hands in my range just for balance. 92o and 83o seem perfect.
I don’t really like Cake, but I don’t have much choice. I'm dead money right now and I'm okay with that. I play ultra micro levels to try to learn the game, figure out my SPR, and learn the ABC's of No Limit before I venture out into higher stakes.
Today Card Runners posted a thread on 2+2 that suggested the DOJ thinks the WIRE act only applies to sports betting. That seems strange to me. If they thought that then why did they seize the domains of Poker Stars and Full Tilt? I can see Tilt, but it appears the Department of Justice did not know about the so called Ponzi scheme until well after they seized the assets.
The proper roll of government is to protect its citizens from others, not to protect citizens from themselves. When laws are passed to protect people from themselves, freedom is lost. It bothers me to see how often people make the wrong arguments. Poker is not gambling, it is a game of skill. This moot point, is a red herring. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, it is gambling. It certainly can be, and for the losers it is. What is wrong with gambling? Is it inherently immoral? Gambling is not a form of stealing. All bets are essentially an agreement just like any other verbal agreement or contract. When you “put your money where your mouth is,” what you are really doing is placing a value on your knowledge. If you wager $100 on a football game you are betting that your knowledge of the players, injuries and assessment of the skill of the players et cetera is better than your opponent’s knowledge of his or her chosen team. If you sit down at a poker table you are banking on the fact that your knowledge of the game is greater than at least one of the other players.
Of course you could be wrong. You could even bet a hand of blackjack thinking that your “luck” is good. Your knowledge is flawed, but people make these bets everyday. They don’t realize the casino knows that as long as you bust before the dealer you pay them, but if the dealer busts in the same round the casino doesn’t pay you.
In gambling, knowledge is power. This is not the same as stealing. If you buy a car at one dealership, but don’t know it is $5,000 cheaper at a dealer across town—you lose $5000 to your ignorance. What’s the difference if you lose a gambling game because of your ignorance? Shouldn’t you be free to choose to do so?
Should it be a crime to waste your money?
Nearly all gaming is games of skill. Usually the casino, or in the case of lotteries, the state is in possession of that skill.
Why does it matter if someone bets $5.00 on the Laker game over the phone? What’s wrong with that? What if it’s $500.00 $1,000, or even one million? Why is it anyone’s business? Why should someone not have the right to do as they please with their own money? The question should not be is poker legal according to the WIRE ACT of 1961. The question should be why does the government need to impose the WIRE ACT of 1961 on it’s citizens?
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Vegimite
On the gold coast of Australia, there is a casino named Jupiter’s. The cocktails are not “free.” I say free n quotation marks because Vegas cocktails have are paid for with a hidden cost. Degeneracy is a lot more expensive than any fair price. The air is fresh at Jupiter’s. Smoking is one of the seven deadly sins in Australia. Marlboro Red’s don’t have a surgeon general’s warning. Instead the country has opted for graphic pictures of charred lungs. Smoking causes gangrene, I never even knew what gangrene was until I saw a picture of it on a pack of smokes. Gangrene makes your foot look like you were walking on hot coals for three hours and then decided to stand on a blistering hot spot for a smoke break. Mouth cancer looks like the Angelina Jolie’s lips kissed a hot iron and her teeth and gums were burnt to a crisp I the process.
They have a vending machine similar to the one at jury duty. It dispenses free coffee and soda. You just need a rewards card. I think I received two free refreshing diet cokes. I probably could have earned more if I would put a penny in one of the pokies, except they don’t have pennies in Australia and I don’t play slots. The poker room is downstairs. They didn’t have Limit Hold Hold Em and spread only two tables of No Limit. I chose not to play because I suck at No Limit cash. I just went to look around, check out the ambiance and the atmosphere. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a Motel Six lobby, Australian food sucks. The only thing worth eating down under is meat pie and schnitzel. Beef isn’t corn fed, so it has that grassy gamey taste to it. I It’s the kind of beef you get a t a health food store that has all the omega 3’s 6’s9’s or whatever. Less fat equals less taste. So I had the lamb shank. It was decent but the mashed potatoes were instant and the carrots were overcooked. Our waiter had an American accent. His name was Michael. He insisted that we (there is no more we, but there was) try Vegimite. Vegimite is made from Yeast. XXXX, pronounced four X, is a brewery in Queensland. They brew yellow-pissey beer similar to Anheuser-Busch. The process includes disposing of the yeast. Some genius figured out that they can sell this used yeast to a company that would make something out of it. I say something because it can only describe it as a cross between margarine and axle grease. I don’t understand how it’s fit for human consumption.
For some reason, I have an uncanny knack for remembering names. My father still calls my Uncle Avery, Adrian. He’s been doing since I was young enough to still call him Dad, which means two things. One—It’s not genetic and two—I’m getting old. Michel lacks certain social skills. He had this look on his face that screamed my hand is in the cookie jar and I don’t want to get caught. His voice was timid, and he avoided making eye contact. Quaint, shyness often gets mistaken for creepiness. He wasn’t creepy, but creepy was close. Michael was from the United States. He loved to surf. He said the one of biggest surfing competitions is held at Coolangatta, a beach town like Huntington or Laguna Beach. Before relocating to Australia he lived with his mother in Florida. Before that, he lived with his father in Loma Linda. The best man at his father’s second marriage works at the Lincoln Memorial Shrine in Redlands.
In other words, it’s a small fucking word after all.
I went to the A.K. Smiley Library today and I know the Lincoln Memorial Shrine is somewhere around there, but I’m not exactly sure where. My extraordinary name remembering skills are humbled by my lack of sense of direction. I want to go in there and say hey I met this guy that knows you in Australia, but I don’t know who to look for. I remember Michael’s name, but I don’t remember his father’s best man’s name. I have to meet someone to remember their name. I almost don’t want to go because It’s been a mystery for a couple years now. There’s this guy I heard about in another country that works a couple miles away from me. Part of me wants to keep the mystery, but part of me wants to check out the Lincoln Memorial Shrine. I don’t know. It can’t be half as good as Great Moment with Lincoln at Disneyland right?
They have a vending machine similar to the one at jury duty. It dispenses free coffee and soda. You just need a rewards card. I think I received two free refreshing diet cokes. I probably could have earned more if I would put a penny in one of the pokies, except they don’t have pennies in Australia and I don’t play slots. The poker room is downstairs. They didn’t have Limit Hold Hold Em and spread only two tables of No Limit. I chose not to play because I suck at No Limit cash. I just went to look around, check out the ambiance and the atmosphere. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a Motel Six lobby, Australian food sucks. The only thing worth eating down under is meat pie and schnitzel. Beef isn’t corn fed, so it has that grassy gamey taste to it. I It’s the kind of beef you get a t a health food store that has all the omega 3’s 6’s9’s or whatever. Less fat equals less taste. So I had the lamb shank. It was decent but the mashed potatoes were instant and the carrots were overcooked. Our waiter had an American accent. His name was Michael. He insisted that we (there is no more we, but there was) try Vegimite. Vegimite is made from Yeast. XXXX, pronounced four X, is a brewery in Queensland. They brew yellow-pissey beer similar to Anheuser-Busch. The process includes disposing of the yeast. Some genius figured out that they can sell this used yeast to a company that would make something out of it. I say something because it can only describe it as a cross between margarine and axle grease. I don’t understand how it’s fit for human consumption.
For some reason, I have an uncanny knack for remembering names. My father still calls my Uncle Avery, Adrian. He’s been doing since I was young enough to still call him Dad, which means two things. One—It’s not genetic and two—I’m getting old. Michel lacks certain social skills. He had this look on his face that screamed my hand is in the cookie jar and I don’t want to get caught. His voice was timid, and he avoided making eye contact. Quaint, shyness often gets mistaken for creepiness. He wasn’t creepy, but creepy was close. Michael was from the United States. He loved to surf. He said the one of biggest surfing competitions is held at Coolangatta, a beach town like Huntington or Laguna Beach. Before relocating to Australia he lived with his mother in Florida. Before that, he lived with his father in Loma Linda. The best man at his father’s second marriage works at the Lincoln Memorial Shrine in Redlands.
In other words, it’s a small fucking word after all.
I went to the A.K. Smiley Library today and I know the Lincoln Memorial Shrine is somewhere around there, but I’m not exactly sure where. My extraordinary name remembering skills are humbled by my lack of sense of direction. I want to go in there and say hey I met this guy that knows you in Australia, but I don’t know who to look for. I remember Michael’s name, but I don’t remember his father’s best man’s name. I have to meet someone to remember their name. I almost don’t want to go because It’s been a mystery for a couple years now. There’s this guy I heard about in another country that works a couple miles away from me. Part of me wants to keep the mystery, but part of me wants to check out the Lincoln Memorial Shrine. I don’t know. It can’t be half as good as Great Moment with Lincoln at Disneyland right?
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
IDGAF
New Year’s resolutions are for people who lack the ability to be honest with themselves. If you really want to quit smoking or lose weight—Do it now. Don’t resolve—take action. Just do it, not because of some slogan on a box of Nike’s—because the second you resolve to do something—you are hesitating. Hesitation doesn’t accomplish anything.
For some reason I’ve been meeting a lot or writer’s lately. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I’ve always stopped myself. I’m way too critical. I have some ideas and I begins to write a story, but they seem to all end up being dragged to the recycle bin. So I’ve decided to write a blog. I’ve started this before, I’ve written some things here and there, but I always felt like I need some kind of gimmick. Blogs that have a lot of reader seem to be about something, perhaps cookie recipe blog, or a political activist blog.
I don’t want to do that. I tried here and there, but I don’t think it’s for me. I thought about doing a blog that reviews as seen on TV products, which is ironic because I don’t even watch TV. There needs to be an objective third party review of all these products. Some are decent and some are huge rip offs.
This is not going to be about a subject though. This is going to be a verbal exercise. I’m just going to commit myself to write every day for ten to thirty minutes, just to practice. The grammar may not be perfect, I might not throw in many polysyllabic words and no one will probably read it. I might write about my friends, or doing some card tricks at bars, or dating, or whatever. I’m not sure yet.
This is more like a diary, but with no key and I’m not hiding it under my bed.
I had an epiphany the other day. Someone asked me what changed about me? She knows who she is and I’m not going to mention why, but after careful consideration I realized what it was. I have found the key to happiness. This is the key that will set yourself on the path to accomplish all your hopes and dreams. Anything in life is for the taking if you just recite this little incantation. It works like magic. Brace yourself. Here it is:
“I do not give a fuck.” That’s all you have to do. Of course I don’t really believe in “magick,” but this is as close as you’ll get to anything supernatural. Let me explain. Let’s say you meet a woman at the grocery store and you think she’s really attractive, and you want to meet her, but you chicken out. Maybe it’s because you haven’t shaved, or you’re not feeling very attractive because you’re bumming it in your pajamas or maybe you’re just a pussy that has no self-confidence. If you didn’t give a fuck you would have asked for her number. Maybe she would have said no, maybe she would have given you a fake number or maybe you would have met the woman of your dreams, but if you give a fuck it makes you hesitate. If you don’t give a fuck, you become indifferent to rejection and are able to take action.
It took me a long time to learn this. I used to be too polite, I was always afraid to say what I really wanted to say in general. When religion came up, I used to just go with the flow and keep my mouth shut and just pretend that pray with everyone at the table. I don’t do that anymore, and I feel a lot better about myself.
When it comes to writing though—I still give a fuck. What if I’m not good enough, what If I don’t know what I’m doing what if my vocabulary isn’t up to par? What if I don’t know how the story is going to end? What if my character development isn’t good enough? What if I don’t have enough information? What if what I write is offensive? What if it gets rejected?
A better question is. . . What if I just don’t give a fuck?
For some reason I’ve been meeting a lot or writer’s lately. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I’ve always stopped myself. I’m way too critical. I have some ideas and I begins to write a story, but they seem to all end up being dragged to the recycle bin. So I’ve decided to write a blog. I’ve started this before, I’ve written some things here and there, but I always felt like I need some kind of gimmick. Blogs that have a lot of reader seem to be about something, perhaps cookie recipe blog, or a political activist blog.
I don’t want to do that. I tried here and there, but I don’t think it’s for me. I thought about doing a blog that reviews as seen on TV products, which is ironic because I don’t even watch TV. There needs to be an objective third party review of all these products. Some are decent and some are huge rip offs.
This is not going to be about a subject though. This is going to be a verbal exercise. I’m just going to commit myself to write every day for ten to thirty minutes, just to practice. The grammar may not be perfect, I might not throw in many polysyllabic words and no one will probably read it. I might write about my friends, or doing some card tricks at bars, or dating, or whatever. I’m not sure yet.
This is more like a diary, but with no key and I’m not hiding it under my bed.
I had an epiphany the other day. Someone asked me what changed about me? She knows who she is and I’m not going to mention why, but after careful consideration I realized what it was. I have found the key to happiness. This is the key that will set yourself on the path to accomplish all your hopes and dreams. Anything in life is for the taking if you just recite this little incantation. It works like magic. Brace yourself. Here it is:
“I do not give a fuck.” That’s all you have to do. Of course I don’t really believe in “magick,” but this is as close as you’ll get to anything supernatural. Let me explain. Let’s say you meet a woman at the grocery store and you think she’s really attractive, and you want to meet her, but you chicken out. Maybe it’s because you haven’t shaved, or you’re not feeling very attractive because you’re bumming it in your pajamas or maybe you’re just a pussy that has no self-confidence. If you didn’t give a fuck you would have asked for her number. Maybe she would have said no, maybe she would have given you a fake number or maybe you would have met the woman of your dreams, but if you give a fuck it makes you hesitate. If you don’t give a fuck, you become indifferent to rejection and are able to take action.
It took me a long time to learn this. I used to be too polite, I was always afraid to say what I really wanted to say in general. When religion came up, I used to just go with the flow and keep my mouth shut and just pretend that pray with everyone at the table. I don’t do that anymore, and I feel a lot better about myself.
When it comes to writing though—I still give a fuck. What if I’m not good enough, what If I don’t know what I’m doing what if my vocabulary isn’t up to par? What if I don’t know how the story is going to end? What if my character development isn’t good enough? What if I don’t have enough information? What if what I write is offensive? What if it gets rejected?
A better question is. . . What if I just don’t give a fuck?
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