Raise your glasses

Beer is back.
At least, that’s what I’m led to believe by a story on the front page of last Saturday’s St. Paul Pioneer Press business section. American brewers, it seems, have found ways, through marketing and the introduction of new products, to lure back the fickle drinkers who — perhaps enticed by a desire to feel more sophisticated, perhaps drawn by an unhealthy attraction to corks — had forsaken beer for wine.
Frankly, I have a problem with this premise. Not with the idea beer is back, but with the suggestion it ever went anywhere. Temporary sales fluctuations aside, beer has always had an important place in American culture. Nobody goes to tailgate parties with a bottle of Chardonnay, at least not without risking serious injury or at the very least a sound mocking.
For the vast majority of Americans beer has never really gone away. And if LL Cool J has taught us nothing else, it’s that you cannot call it a comeback when someone or something has been here for years.
So, that’s my problem with the article. But brewers do not get off the hook entirely. Though none of them are related to sales figures or market share, I have had growing concerns with the beer industry. My problem is with the same new products this article claims have drawn beer drinkers back into the fold, and the advertisements with which they seem to be selling increasing numbers of them.
According to the article, American brewers have started to pitch their products as cooler, classier and, I swear, healthier. Because nothing makes a person feel more vital (or more high-society) than waking up the morning (or early afternoon) after enjoying a few too many Buds.
Brewers, it seems, would like us to believe beer has all of the same health benefits attributed to red wine. Although presumably without the smugness associated with buying an expensive port. Unless you’re drinking Guinness.
Take Michelob Ultra, a lite beer introduced a few years ago when Atkins-obsessed Americans were caught up in a frenzy of counting carbs. Though the anti-carb movement has died down some since people discovered Dr. Atkins was horribly bloated when he died, Michelob Ultra then and now has been marketed as a beer for active people. “Are you a runner?” the ads seem to ask. “A swimmer?” Then this is the beer for you. Apparently the beer’s reduced calorie and carbohydrate counts make it the next best thing to Gatorade. Never mind the reason many people run or swim or bike is so they can spare the calories involved in drinking beer that’s darker than the water in your average aquarium.
More recently, Budweiser has introduced something called B-to-the-E, a beer-based drink that features, according to the article, “sweet flavors, caffeine, ginseng and guarana, a Brazilian stimulant.”
In other words, Budweiser has come up with an answer to energy drinks such as Red Bull despite the fact nobody ever even considered asking them the question.
I saw a can of B-to-the-E a while back (the logo is a Budweiser “B” with a lowercase e hovering over it as though it’s some kind of alcohol-based mat notation) but couldn’t work up the nerve to try it. Beer was never intended to give people energy. It was created by the mythical beer fairies to reduce people’s energy level to the point baseball seems exciting. What’s next? Amphetamine-based sleep aids?
The beer world used to be so much simpler. The major American brewers made regular beer and they made lite beer. Most Americans drank one or the other and those who wanted something with actual flavor could choose a beer from a smaller brewery or find something imported.
Advertising, too, was simpler. Find an attractive woman or a washed-up sports figure or a cute dog — or better yet, all three — and put her or him or it or them into a commercial. Make it funny and show lots of cleavage (the woman’s not the former defensive lineman’s).
Let’s see the wine industry top that.

Let freedom fry

I can’t decide if this is good news or just plain ridiculous.
According to An Aug. 2 story in the Washington Times, the last two cafeterias on Capitol Hill to serve Freedom Fries and Freedom Toast have given the food items their French names back. In other words, the most childish incident of foreign relations-related defiance since our Founding Fathers voted to collectively stick their tongues out and go, “Thpppbbbbt!” at Parliament has finally ended a mere three years and four months after it began.
I’ll admit, the Freedom Fry issue fell of my personal radar a long time ago. If I’d bothered to think about it in the last three-plus years I probably would have imagined Congress, which presumably has more important things on its schedule, sheepishly put the French Fry signs back up around the time our President admitted there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Or perhaps when our Fearless Leader proclaimed from the deck of an aircraft carrier that our mission had been accomplished.
At the very least I would hope most legislators did their best to ignore the change over the past few years, asking cafeteria workers for plain “fries.” Or maybe just ordering potato chips — or even better, a nice fresh fruit plate.
In any case, I would never have imagined our nation’s leaders holding on to their hold-my-breath-till-I-turn-blue-style protest against French non-violence would stretch nearly the full length of a Presidential term. I don’t think even the raincoat-wearing serial killer in the “I Know What You Did Last Summer” movies held a grudge that long. And there have been at least three of those awful things.
None of the United States Representatives involved was interested in talking to the Times. A spokesman for Ohio Rep. Bob Ney, one of two Republican Representatives who called for the Franco-fryo-phobic change three years ago refused comment.
At the time he asked for the change Rep. Ney called it “a small but symbolic effort to show the strong displeasure of many on Capitol Hill with the actions of our so-called ally, France.”
French President Jacques Chirac reportedly responded at the time by vowing to personally head butt any American he encountered in France.
A spokesman for Michigan Rep. Vernon Ehlers, who chairs the committee that apparently has the power to change the names of the junk food our nation’s leaders snack on, told the times, “I really don’t see how this is a story.”
It is a story, though. Maybe this change is not as significant as some governmental decisions — naming blueberry Minnesota’s state muffin, for example — but it is a sign of significant changes in our country’s attitude toward the French. According to a Pew Global Attitudes survey conducted in June and cited by the Times 52 percent of Americans have a favorable impression of France. Last year that number was 46 percent and in May of 2003 only 29 percent of Americans thought the French were good for anything but making wine and surrendering to anyone who looked at them funny.
It is not clear why 48 percent of Americans still dislike the French but it is suspected that number is split nearly equally between people upset about France’s opposition to the U.S. invasion of Iraq and people who “just don’t get that whole Jerry Lewis thing.”
First, the United States and France work together to broker a cease-fire in the Middle East. Now we are once again willing to put their name on our fatty fried potatoes and egg-soaked breakfast breads.
That’s what I call progress.

The straight dope

Imagine if you will a press conference. Television cameras line the room, and photographers with still cameras are dotted here and there, all jockeying for the best position. Reporters, notebooks and tape recorders held at the ready the way an Old West gunfighter might clutch a Colt .45, sit in orderly rows, waiting for the action to begin.
A prominent athlete, his identity not important at this moment, approaches the podium. He speaks:
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I will make my comments brief.
There has been a lot of talk lately about drug use among professional athletes. Tour de France winner Floyd Landis, who clawed his way back into the tour and won the hearts of Americans desperate to hold onto the tour title in the post-Lance Armstrong era with an epic solo ride through the mountains was later found to have hormones more out of whack than an entire Spring Break’s worth of liquored-up frat boys.
Justin Gatlin, the Olympic champion and world record co-holder who can run 100 meters in faster than most Americans can get up from the couch has also been found to have unusual levels of testosterone in his system.
And for whatever reason a nation clamoring for answers continues to insist baseball star Barry Bonds’ gigantic party-balloon head is the result of something more sinister than a grossly overinflated ego.
Given these cases I want to take this opportunity to insist once again I have never taken banned substances to improve my athletic performance.
I see some of you have questions. I expected that. Please, though, let me finish and hopefully I will address most of what you want to ask.
First, there is the issue of my sudden weight gain. Yes, I am more muscular than I once was. I suppose three months is a quick span in which to add 115 pounds of muscle. But I promise you this weight gain is natural. I hit the gym three times a day to build this body. I am proud of the work I have done and to have you sitting out there at your press tables lined with donuts and hot dogs questioning my dedication to the sport I love offends me.
Also, while it is true doctors were recently unable to puncture my skin with a needle to draw blood I maintain this is due solely to a naturally callousey skin, not to the effects of any illicit substance.
Second, I’m sure many of you are curious about rumors I produced a blue sample during a recent surprise urine test. This is true, though I believe claims the vial could have lit Yankee Stadium are exaggerated. At most the glow from the sample was powerful enough to serve as a nightlight. Possibly a desk lamp.
Let me assure you, there is nothing unnatural about this sample. My nutritionist has simply had me on a food-coloring-heavy diet. Also, I really like blue raspberry freezie pops. That coloring simply worked its way into my system. It is all entirely natural.
There have also been some concerns about my recent behavior. I admit some of it has been unorthodox and there are incidents I am not proud of.
Yes, after a recent win I ripped the head off of the opponent’s mascot and screamed obscenities at the 16-year-old girl inside. I am embarrassed by my actions in that situation. It is 45 minutes of my life I wish I could have back. But I was excited. It was a big game and I lost control. I apologize, but I promise you I am in full control of my emotions.
Yes, I occasionally run, naked and screaming at the top of my lungs, through the streets of our fair city. Is there something unreasonable about this? Can a man not express himself in the way he sees fit? Shame on you for trying to cage my joy.
Finally, yes, I have recently grown this second head. Trust me, this is not as unusual as it seems. Second heads are currently all the rage in Europe. Soon people everywhere will be growing second and even third crania. Just you wait.
I hope I have answered these concerns to your satisfaction. I promise I will continue to defend myself against these unjust charges for as long as they are leveled against me. I only hope this media speculation does not do further harm to the sport I love so much, curling.