Attenuating Circumstances...

A minority of the handful of readers who occasionally visit this blog have begun to ask about this year's Bootlegger's Bliss.

I don't have a lot of details to share at this point, except that the Bliss will indeed take place and that I hope to make this year's event the best ever.  Plans are underway and the date is tentatively set for Satyrday, November 6th.

Mark your calendars and stay tuned for more details...oh, and brew some beer, yeah?

In the meantime, a little background reading for the uninitiated and for those regular readers whose thirst for pretentious prose can never be sufficiently slaked:

— The Cycling Zymurgist Maniblissto —

The history of all hitherto existing cycling events is the history of competitive struggles. Not so with the Bliss.

The Bootlegger's Bliss is a social event, designed to bring together people who share (or are simply curious about) two seemingly disparate passions: homebrewing and mountain biking.

The Bliss is not a race. It does not suffer elitist competition. There are no medals, no podiums, no bragging rights, no prizes. No one's "in it to win it," as the dreadful cliché goes. No one trains for the Bliss. There are no "winners." Or—more precisely—everyone is a winner.

The Bliss is not a drinking contest. It does not suffer wanton drunkenness. It is a tasting, and if you don't know the difference between a tasting and a drinking contest, the Bliss is not for you.

The Bliss is about fun for fun's sake. It is the arrowhead forged in the smithy of the soul, honed in secret, dipped in curare, then trained on the heart of the ogre Boordumb. The lifeblood of the Bliss is participation. There are no spectators; everyone is equally a "criminal" and delights in it. Everyone rides, everyone tastes. Participants are encouraged to front their very best brew, in keeping with the concept of the potlatch, whereby prestige is gained not by amassing coveted property like some plutocratic piggy, but by giving it away.

Leave your money at home. The Bliss is not about commerce—quite the opposite, actually. Aside from the homebrew and homecooking you're asked to bring and share, the Bliss is a free event, generously and officially sponsored by Absolutely No One®. That's the point. From a philosophical perspective, the Bliss was conceived as a small step outside of commerce—a tick in the matted hide of mass-production—and as an appreciation of highly personal, highly potable craftwork against the backdrop of some sweet singletrack. It's a celebration of use value, that immeasurable quality that fills the soul with a sort of natural, ineffable satisfaction too seldom felt in the cold void, the funereal absence, the blanched banality that clings to exchange value like stench to carrion.

Lipstick on a Blind Pig*

Okay, (almost) all hyperbole aside, the 3rd Annual Bootlegger's Bliss is shaping up to be the most successful to date. With 30+ confirmations, another year of brewing expertise under the belts of many attendees, and a brand new venue (rumor has it you can see Russia from the peak of one hill), this one is poised to really set the bar.

Speaking of which, I just sent out an email announcing the venue to all the wise folks who arr-ess-vee-peed to confirm their attendance. Anyone responding at this time to express an interest will roll the dice. And McFate can be a heartless pit-boss.

A little more information: in addition to the ride, the lunch, and the tasting, there will be a trialsy segment and a go-for-broke(n) derby or two (both voluntary). Got a nice, high-end wheelset? Just take out a second mortgage amidst an eroding and ever-more speculative economy (because, good sheep that you are, you've been led to believe that the "free" market¹ is free) to purchase a beautiful new Ti frame?² Leave it all at home or risk crying in your beer and wallowing out your wallet when it's all said and done. The Bliss cares not for sniveling, self-made trifles and pitiful property attachments; its skin and blood and bones are born of strife and resistance and rebellion. Against these things, these beautiful, meaningful things, what chance have you and your petty, narcissistic concerns?

We'll find out the answer to this and many more important questions on Satyrday, November 1^st. Until then, happy homebrewing.


Photo credits: first - B. Ramsey; third - M. Kegley

*From Wikipedia, 'cause some other unpaid individual already did the grunt work (with a little choice editing by yours truly, 'cause it needed it):

A blind pig, also known as a blind tiger, originated in the United States in the 1800s, when blue laws restricted the sale of alcoholic beverages. A saloonkeeper would charge customers to see an attraction (such as an animal), and provide a "complimentary" alcoholic beverage, thus circumventing the law.

It was during the years of prohibition that blind pigs were most common in the U.S.

The blind pig is a classic example of black-market economics, and with the end of prohibition in 1933, most blind pigs had to either become legitimate establishments or close shop. Common current examples of the blind pig (or transgressions of a similar spirit) include the after-hours club, the keg party, and, of course, the ingenious and increasingly infamous modern-day, semi-underground potlatch known as the Bootlegger's Bliss.

A blind pig differed from a speakeasy primarily in that it was essentially a "drinking only" establishment, whereas a speakeasy frequently offered music, dancing and a wide selection of food, too.

1. For a profound, witty, and insightful analysis of the free market and market populism, check out One Market, Under God, by Thomas Frank.

2. Jealousy is indeed a green-eyed monster.

Potlatch with a Pot Lunch...

Okay, the 2nd Annual Bootlegger's Bliss is on a roll like a renegade keg barrel down a cobblestone street. There's no damn thing stops this ride! The high temperature on Satyrday is supposed to be about 57 60° F, with clear skies all day...almost perfect weather.

Those of you who have "registered" should look for a new email this evening that provides additional important details (for example, START TIME—thanks DT!). There's still room for a few more participants, so if you're genuinely interested, send an email to BBpotlatch@gmail.com asap, and I'll add you to the rogues gallery. (UPDATE: Second email has been sent; check your mailbox.)

For now, one important reminder: in addition to the dirt ride and homebrew-tasting components, the Bliss is a pot lunch affair. Participants are expected to bring a dish that they can share with others. Homemade foods are the gold standard for all the obvious reasons (hint: this is a DIY event!). Think about your particular beer style, think about a complementary food, then make it and bring it! If your dish requires reheating, you should make the necessary arrangements (gas stove, etc.) to effect this in situ. We hope to have one gas stove on hand, but there's no guarantee, so please be prepared—cold chili is a crime...and not the good kind, either.

Also, rumor has it that a certain madly-skilled photographer will be clicking away in our midst, so pretty-up yourself if it matters to you!

Lastly, some early good news: looks like there just may be a little swag on hand for distribution this year, if all goes as currently planned, meaning if whUPS meets the scheduled delivery date.

SAVE GAS, SAVE MONEY, SAVE THE PLANET: CARPOOL!

"Conversation. What is it? A Mystery! It's the art of never seeming bored, of touching everything with interest, of pleasing with trifles, of being fascinating with nothing at all. How do we define this lively darting about with words, of hitting them back and forth, this sort of brief smile of ideas which should be conversation?"
—Guy de Maupassant

"Relax. Don't Worry. Have a homebrew!"
—Charlie Papazian, The Complete Joy of Homebrewing

Homebrew Update: With secondary fermentation still limping along in the carboy, my Tripel Threat Belgian Ale is going to be on the green side come the day of raucous rapture. Looks like I'll be kegging in some capacity after all. Ah, well, not much to be done, besides reminding myself that additional waiting time just means more time for dry-hopping. Small consolation, but I'll take it.

Photo credits: B. Ramsey