Alcohol

It's been awhile (as expected) since my last post. I've decided that, barring any posting while inebriated, I'll lay off philosophy and epistemology. It's not so much that I'm not interested in it as much as no potential reader would be. That, and I'm sure those who could follow it and argue it would find my mental structure somewhat of an abomination.

Given that, it's time to turn to lighter affairs. I invoke thee, booze.

I'm not that fond of alcohol. It has a taste I easily detect and can usually find amongst anything. Of the harder alcohols, I prefer vodka and Everclear (the 190+ proof variety). They tend to have a very clean, sterile taste. I can't stand most beer or wine, and not for the bitterness, either (see, I have a love of coffee).

Today I have before me (this is while I'm working, so it should tell you something of my personality) a Riedal "Happy O" tumbler about a fifth full of beautiful, golden ice wine and a bottle of "Woodchuck Draft Pear Cider." The ice wine is Canadian, so between that and the Vermont beer I'm getting a wonderful taste of the mentally damaged portion of the globe. The cider is odd since I expected something of a flavored beer taste akin to Smirnoff's alcoholic 7-Ups. But, no... this bottle has an extremely strange flavor. It's not so much a flavor as a lack of one - a certain purity that lightly touches your taste buds and takes away sensation rather than delivering it. The flavor is therefore whatever isn't numbed out and tastes somewhat of pear.

S'pretty good, but I'll take a Coke any day.

The ice wine... ahh. There is no comparison. It tastes like the word "golden" sounds - like a sunset.

That's right. I said something tastes like a sunset. Fuck you.

Incidentally, the worst beers are made by Rogue. This was confirmed with a taste of their Dead Guy's Ale or whatever the hell they called it. I'd never actually spit something out without it exhibiting independent movement in my mouth before that beer. Ugh.