Jesus Crippled Christ
Well, now. It seems I am finally here in Virginia. Richmond, to be exact.
After being jerked around by a couple placement agencies, I was finally hooked up with a job with Philip Morris USA. Yes, THAT Philip Morris. Unless you actually work for them, I bet you can't name every cigarette brand they make. And as a bonus question: how many different kinds of each brand? We are beyond simple "lights" and "menthols" here at PMUSA. Oh, yes. Cigarettes represent a vast forest of alternatives, a cornucopia of tastes for the discerning palate. A veritable universe of toasted plant deliciousness.
Working for these guys gives you a new perspective on the entire "smoking related illness" lawsuit engines. One quickly realizes how vital it is that this country adopt some tort law reform. Honestly... who in their right mind ever thought for a second that smoking was nothing but bad for you? Do you know a fireman who doesn't wear smoke protection?
Yes, it is true that as a PMUSA employee, you get free smokes. You have to sign up for them. Those of us that do not smoke don't really get anything of equal value free, unless you call the smug satisfaction of not having to deal with lung cancer while you watch your coworkers march off to an early grave a company benefit. I would prefer free mac and cheese, since Kraft is a sister company (both are part of the megacorp Altria group).
I have finally gotten the beer up and running for realizies. Getting good results, too. Herself keeps bugging me to make mead, so I guess I'll have to do that at some point. I keep putting it off, but not because I can't or don't really have the equipment or can't get the ingredients. It's that I have certain... prejudices that haunt me.
I think about making mead and am immediately bombarded by images of SCA-dians and fantasy fiction fans, overweight social retards with long hair and granny glasses arguing over the proper use of western swords versus eastern swords (sadly, I know the answer). These are the ones that insist upon drinking things like mead, and grog, and stouts only at room temperature. They have a collection of "Marillion" albums. They write "Star Trek" fanfics that include themselves. Ugh.
Don't get me wrong. I really don't have any problems with people who subscribe to belief systems or customs that are not considered "mainstream". I have friends who are hardcore wiccans, and have been for years. I know people that have studied back and forth everything ever written by J.R.R. Tolkien and written very thoughtful critiques and essays on his works in published journals.
I think what turns me off about mead is that all this reminiscence comes directly from people I knew in college, specifically a couple that were the quintessential boho pseudo-intellectuals that were way up in everything that was perceived as anti-establishment. Bob and Roberta, the roommates of the girl I dated in college, Ann.
To be honest, I liked Roberta. She was a nice girl, actually smart and funny without having to hide behind random literary quoting to seem "deep". Bob was a big guy, a cross between Sid Vicious and a circus bear, nice and funny in his own right but rebelling (from what?) in a clueless way. Both English majors, the kind of which makes all English majors in the world cringe in the way that Jimmy "J.J." Walker makes African-Americans cringe.
They epitomized the entire Bohemian Intellectual Anti-Establishment lifestyle, right down to wearing earth tones and refusing to listen to anything on a major record label. Melodrama was a foodstuff that they not only ingested but wallowed in as well. They earned the nickname "Lord and Lady Codependent". Oh, man did they earn it. I remember once coming home with Ann to find Bob weeping into his leather jacket in the kitchen and occasionally wailing phrases in German. Ann (fluent in German) ascertained that a good friend of his had died, and for some reason Bob was a "blue window", and possibly "bad at math". This went on for 2 days, when Bob went to give blood for their portion of the rent and passed out afterwards because he was badly dehydrated.
There are other incidents, but that's for later. Maybe I'll make the mead and create some new, better images to go along with it besides the weird rantings of a blue window.
After being jerked around by a couple placement agencies, I was finally hooked up with a job with Philip Morris USA. Yes, THAT Philip Morris. Unless you actually work for them, I bet you can't name every cigarette brand they make. And as a bonus question: how many different kinds of each brand? We are beyond simple "lights" and "menthols" here at PMUSA. Oh, yes. Cigarettes represent a vast forest of alternatives, a cornucopia of tastes for the discerning palate. A veritable universe of toasted plant deliciousness.
Working for these guys gives you a new perspective on the entire "smoking related illness" lawsuit engines. One quickly realizes how vital it is that this country adopt some tort law reform. Honestly... who in their right mind ever thought for a second that smoking was nothing but bad for you? Do you know a fireman who doesn't wear smoke protection?
Yes, it is true that as a PMUSA employee, you get free smokes. You have to sign up for them. Those of us that do not smoke don't really get anything of equal value free, unless you call the smug satisfaction of not having to deal with lung cancer while you watch your coworkers march off to an early grave a company benefit. I would prefer free mac and cheese, since Kraft is a sister company (both are part of the megacorp Altria group).
I have finally gotten the beer up and running for realizies. Getting good results, too. Herself keeps bugging me to make mead, so I guess I'll have to do that at some point. I keep putting it off, but not because I can't or don't really have the equipment or can't get the ingredients. It's that I have certain... prejudices that haunt me.
I think about making mead and am immediately bombarded by images of SCA-dians and fantasy fiction fans, overweight social retards with long hair and granny glasses arguing over the proper use of western swords versus eastern swords (sadly, I know the answer). These are the ones that insist upon drinking things like mead, and grog, and stouts only at room temperature. They have a collection of "Marillion" albums. They write "Star Trek" fanfics that include themselves. Ugh.
Don't get me wrong. I really don't have any problems with people who subscribe to belief systems or customs that are not considered "mainstream". I have friends who are hardcore wiccans, and have been for years. I know people that have studied back and forth everything ever written by J.R.R. Tolkien and written very thoughtful critiques and essays on his works in published journals.
I think what turns me off about mead is that all this reminiscence comes directly from people I knew in college, specifically a couple that were the quintessential boho pseudo-intellectuals that were way up in everything that was perceived as anti-establishment. Bob and Roberta, the roommates of the girl I dated in college, Ann.
To be honest, I liked Roberta. She was a nice girl, actually smart and funny without having to hide behind random literary quoting to seem "deep". Bob was a big guy, a cross between Sid Vicious and a circus bear, nice and funny in his own right but rebelling (from what?) in a clueless way. Both English majors, the kind of which makes all English majors in the world cringe in the way that Jimmy "J.J." Walker makes African-Americans cringe.
They epitomized the entire Bohemian Intellectual Anti-Establishment lifestyle, right down to wearing earth tones and refusing to listen to anything on a major record label. Melodrama was a foodstuff that they not only ingested but wallowed in as well. They earned the nickname "Lord and Lady Codependent". Oh, man did they earn it. I remember once coming home with Ann to find Bob weeping into his leather jacket in the kitchen and occasionally wailing phrases in German. Ann (fluent in German) ascertained that a good friend of his had died, and for some reason Bob was a "blue window", and possibly "bad at math". This went on for 2 days, when Bob went to give blood for their portion of the rent and passed out afterwards because he was badly dehydrated.
There are other incidents, but that's for later. Maybe I'll make the mead and create some new, better images to go along with it besides the weird rantings of a blue window.
posted by cowboy00242 at 3:15 PM
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