And Glinda the Good Witch is a Barmaid!

Here's what it's like to visit the Sam Adams brewery, in which the brewery is Oz, the wizard is some guy named Jim, you are Dorothy, and the lion, tin man, toto, and the scarecrow are whatever boozers you bring with you. And for the purposes of this story, since she won't appear here anyway, let's say the Wicked Witch of the West is John Q. Lawman.

You get to the Emerald City after a long journey. Its doors are already open, and an ugly dude invites you in for free. There are some cool trophies and such that the Emerald City has won over the years by being the best gemstone-laden municipality there is. Some years it gets beat out by the Gold City and the Ruby City (which manufactures slippers), and occasionally even the Dull Quartz City has a good year. But the Emerald City is proud of what it is and what it's done, and wastes no time in telling you about it.

You're led into an anteroom where the fine people of the Emerald City tell you more stories and promise to take care of you and your friends, and even shine your tin man and bikini wax your lion. Then it's time for the Great Unveiling, and you're led (ok, more like pushed) into the Great Oz's chambers.

The Great Oz isn't there, but a recording of him is. Fair enough. But then you learn that magical waterfalls a la Charlie and the Chocolate Factory do not a magician make; instead his source of power comes from great steel and copper drums that are impressive when you think of how much beer they hold. Oops - got off the metaphor.

OK - so you're slightly disappointed but then Glinda the Good Witch tells you that it's all right - you're still going to Kansas. Sort of. The Wizard is instead going to ship you to Cheboygan, but will be happy to provide directions to Kansas from there. Which is fine and good, because you're still going to be closer to Kansas than you are now and at any rate, the voices from the tiny people in your head ... I mean the Yellow Brick Road ... will be quieted for awhile. Cheboygan's nice this time of year.

(The brewery was fun. They give you 7 oz. glasses for free! The guy that gives you your glass checked my ID. Apparently I own just one set of clothes because I was wearing the same outfit in my license photo. You can't buy beer there, which stinks, but they give you directions to the nearest liquor store and pub. Fine by me.)


I try me a Sam. We tasted Regular, White, and Summer ales. I'm a convert to the White.


One of the aforementioned copper kegs.


Though the original brewery is here in Boston, Sam Adams' main production facilities are in Ohio and (drumroll ...) ... Rochester, NY!! I can't escape.

Excellence par excellence

Ok, Linda Pinkow beat me to the punch on my own blog. That's what you get for hangin' around journalists.

I recently was named the editor of the Lexington Minuteman, a rather large and involved weekly out here in New England. (Remember the Lexington/Concord battles from history class? It's that Lexington. The battles of Lexington and Concord were the first military engagements of the American Revolutionary War. They were fought on April 19, 1775, within the towns of Lexington, Concord, Lincoln, Menotomy (Arlington), and Cambridge. The battles marked the outbreak of open armed conflict between Great Britain and its thirteen colonies in the mainland of British North America. (SOURCE: Wikipedia)

I was told that Lexington and Concord do not, alas, play each other in high school sports. So here are the headlines I WOULD have used if they ever did:

Just a minute, man
Lexington v. Concord: This time, it's for real
Football: It's revolutionary

And if they played Arlington:
Break the Menotomy
Marauding minutemen skewer Arrrlington

Yo hair!

The barber said it was a throwback to the newspaper editors of the 1930s.
He said it's called the Princeton, and is all the rage in the Harvard Square crowd.
But most importantly, he said it was "the balls."
I have to agree. This haircut is the balls.