Booze Me Baby: Cherry Beer Edition

So I bought some cherry beer and drank it. Then I wrote down THOUGHTS and FEELINGS.

Liefman’s Fruitesse

The standard Belgian fruit beer against which all others are measured. Or they are for me, anyway, given they sell this both on campus and one of my most regular haunts in Birmingham. A nice balance of sweet and sour, and not too strong to make ordering it pints particularly inadvisable.

Mort Subite: Kriek Lambic

As sour as the word “lambic” suggests. But this is cherrytown, Jack. Sour is the currency we’re trading in here. It works well, is what I’m saying. Plus the wee cork makes me feel like a giant at a wedding each time I open up another bottle. Pop pop!

Timmerman’s Kriek

Delighted to learn that “Lambicus” is a thing that somehow exists. As fun as that name is, though, there's not much there. Well, OK, that's not fair. The "problen", emphasis on the """", is that I don't think I'd have any chance of distinguishing this from Leifmans if I were blindfolded, or distracted by a squirrel, or whatever.

But that's fine. Leifmans is good. But its also slightly stronger, so, you know. Doesn't feel like I need two of you, Lambicus.

Grisette Bio Fruits Des Bois

This is borderline undrinkable. Tastes like Ribena and backwash, diluted to an extent you could fairly call homeopathic. Serve only to your worst enemies, who are at your house for some reason.

 

 

Cherry Chouffe 

A bit darker and richer than the other offerings here. Also ludicrously strong, so be advised. It’s a good job the bottles have such a low centre of gravity, because I was gesticulating wildly within minutes. Best paired with a sense of creeping shame the next morning.

 

 

Sam Smith's Organic Cherry

I was semi-secretly hoping I'd hate this, given Sam Smiths pubs have gotten themselves a reputation recently for being hotbeds of bullshit ableism.

You can imagine my disappointment at how absolutely gorgeous this beer is, then. Like the ideal blind date for the worst man you've ever met, the sweet:tart ratio is almost perfect. It's light enough to go down easy, and not *quite* strong enough for that fact to be a danger to public health.

Thank Cthulhu that the name is total shit, then. BOO, Sam Smiths. BOO! You're an embarrassment! BOOOOOO!

Infinite Diversity, Finite Combinations 1.1.20

 Finally back once again with the classic run Star Trek.

Contract Fulfilment

Eeek! Not even an hour to go until November and I've not put up a single post for the month mankind knows as "Pre-Halloween"!

This is partially my fault, for not having finished an IDFC post this month until about seven minutes ago. Plus, also, it's entirely my fault because this is my blog. IF YOU WANT TO GET PICKY.

I had planned to show you the Ultramarine Terminators I'd finished painting recently, AKA the best miniatures I've ever done that aren't from a standalone box. But I can't even do that, because I'm trapped for Halloween night in a 14th century mansion, that the owner insisted wasn't haunted even though I'd only asked for a second pot of coffee with my breakfast.

So, join me in an embarassingly obvious exercise in filler with DUN DUN DUUN: One sentence reviews of this year's Halloweenapalooza films. Usually I'm too busy making cocktails and enjoying having friends to really concentrate on the movies I'm playing for the Halloween season. This year though the universe was kind enough to leave me no distraction beyond the cascading tears of loneliness. SO:

Sputnik (2020): This film's biggest weakness is also its greatest strength, in that it manages to be fun and interesting and moderately clever and occasionally unnerving without ever truly engaging with the politics of its USSR setting.

Les Diaboliques (1955): The sort of film that everyone copies afterwards because it's so smart, which means we've seen it all before; though that only matters if you prioritise being surprised over literally every single fucking thing that cinema has to offer.

Vampires Vs The Bronx (2020): Starts from the astonishingly smart conceit of linking vampirism to gentrification, and never lets up on delivering social commentary that's also hilarious.

Infinite Diversity, Finite Combinations 4.1

 Let's talk about 1993, and the best sci-fi show to debut that year.

Friday 40K: Old Friends, Only Pointier

Some nice simple paint jobs this time, as I stick doggedly to the aesthetic and (as far as possible) shades of my painting attempts a quarter of a century ago. This time the 'stealers have longer pointy bits, though, because PROGRESS. Theres a couple of inplant weapons as well, becuase who doesn't like the idea of armour-piercing murder-tongues?

Not reall much more to say about these chitinous stablads, other than to note that they increase my battle-ready genestealters to a total of twenty-three, not including by Broodlord. That's a lot of close-combat dice, and I look forward to the end of our COVID nightmare, so I can reduce a few Space Wolves to steaming piles of mead-marinaded chum.

Now I've just got the Kill-Team box a friend bought me a year or two ago, and I'll have painted every Genestealer I own. Except the Space Hulk ones, obviously. I am but one man.

90s Undying

So this is happening, which is rather exciting. 

It was nice of them to create bespoke banners for each writer, so I can briefly fool people into thinking my involvement was any kind of draw. 

Still, I got some ludicrously positive feedback from the editor and proofreader about my essay, so if you've recently come into ludicrous wealth (it's $25 for the book and just as much for shipping to the UK), you might want to check it out.

Infinite Diversity, Finite Combinations 6.1.19

 An early, and terribly sad, farewell to Rene Auberjonois.