Your New TV Ruins Movies.
HOLY SHIT.
Something Jen and I saw last night: Principles aren’t principles until they cost you something.
Lest you think I’ve dropped the ball, I am working on another illustration right now. It’s coming along well, but I’m trying to be a little more narrative in my approach, which means I’m taking time to get some small details right. I think that Robin Gibb might be a good next subject. Not because he just died too, but because he had such an interesting face. It’s hard to believe those three guys came from the same gene pool, really.
I finally kegged the American Ale the other day, and it’s carbing overnight. We wound up about three glasses away from kicking the keg of Saison at the wedding shower, and I got a lot of positive feedback on it which means it’ll go into rotation with the Chinook as a house beer. Next up is Surly Cynic, which is described as a non-traditional Saison. I’m going to shoot for brewing it sometime over the coming weekend so it’s kegged and ready for the 4th of July; the American Ale will get saved until then—minus a glass or two.
Meanwhile, the Saturn is out of the shop with a poor prognosis. It’s been heating itself up in traffic for the past six months or so, but careful attention to the temp gauge and a cold winter meant I could postpone maintenance until the sun came out and I could drive the Scout without fear of salt. The mechanic claimed the heating issue was simply a radiator cap, but she’s still getting hot under the collar. They also diagnosed a rough idle and found that the #4 plug was fouled with crap. This is Not Good. I just replaced the plugs and wires last year. It means the engine is wearing down and on its way out. With that, balding tires, and a hole in the exhaust behind the cat, she’s getting more and more hoopty all the time. Careful planning, Google Maps, and the hypermiling technique of shutting the engine off at stoplights should stave off disaster for a while longer. Until then, USAA charges only $1/mo. for towing coverage!
Apparently, the Afghan Whigs were on Fallon the other night, and they killed:
I always though they were one of the better, more individual bands from the 80’s-90’s era. For your viewing pleasure: