Grandpa's Brain is in a Metal Cannister

Before I lay me down to sleep, I have to refer you to this.

Boy, do I wish that Blogger had some form of password protection feature. There are a lot of stray free radical thoughts bouncing around my skull, and I'm not quite free to expound publically quite yet. Sigh.

I'm pretty speechless about the whole government deal, but with everything that's come out about the amoral, shameless bulldozing of the foundations of our society that's been going on, this bursts the seams of irony (listen to "Imagine.") DICK IS A KILLER!

Son of Sam Adams

Just bottled my pale ale last night, and now I'm trying to think of a clever-clever name for my most recent brew. My favorites so far include the entry title (perhaps a mock-up of the Sam Adams label with Berkowitz's head pasted onto Sam's shoulders) and "(Oh, am I) Still Ale," complete with a wistful (or inebriated, if I can find one) shot of Moz in the background.

Others:

Jagged Little Pale Ale
18th Ale Descendant
What the Ale?
Wallace Beery
al-Aqsa Brewers Brigade Presents "Ale Qaida"
Hopped-up Chinaman
Ale Gore
Call Me Morbid, Call Me Pale Ale (yes, yet another Smiths allusion)
None the Weiser

That's all I got for now. Ideas very, very welcome.

Meanwhile, Janine's finally got her own blog! Do go read!

Oh yes, and read this, too.

Update: My first label! Very, very clever if you're a hardcore Smiths fan.