Homophobia at Bulleit

WHY I DON'T BUY BULLEIT BOURBON ANYMORE

I was on the Bulleit train from almost the beginning. I love their rye and their bourbon and drank them often, as I'm addicted to Manhattans for half the year, and I don't mind a Boulevardier when I'm feeling saucy. But now I've officially disembarked.

For better or worse, America went with capitalism, and the only way for that to work is for consumers to vote for the world they want with their dollars.

That's why I'll never go to a Hobby Lobby and why I haven't drunk a drop of Bulleit Bourbon for almost six months now. 

The story goes that Tom Bulleit's daughter Hollis Bulleit made the brand the powerhouse it is through dogged ambassadorship but was pushed out when her sexual orientation became public. I guess it shouldn't surprise anyone that a Kentucky-based family's patriarch is a homophobe; homophobia and racism are rampant down south unfortunately. But I don't care that I'm not surprised, and I'm not going to support a brand that I know is anti-gay.

There are other great bourbons at the same price point anyway.

There's a Slate article about how family businesses are more susceptible to such problems. It makes me think of Marxist notions to abolish the family unit. I don't understand how people spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with racist/homophobic family members. If the world is going to be a better place tomorrow, eye-rolling isn't enough; pillory your grandparents if you have to.

Diageo owns Bulleit and Johnnie Walker and countless other brands. As a consumer, it's hard to pillory Diageo. Remember when Dove was running ads about all women being beautiful while Axe was running ads about all women being sex toys? Unilever owns both brands and didn't care how anyone felt about that if you kept buying their products. That's just how branding works and why Diageo is so powerful (and also dangerous).

For now I'm drinking Buffalo Trace and Gentleman Jack, owned by Sazerac and Brown-Forman, respectively, both of whom have probably had similar issues in their histories. . . but what else am I supposed to do?

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When I was living in Virginia, my ex-in-laws were horribly racist, sexist, and homophobic. The father of the family would proudly declare himself one from time to time. When his daughter was dating a black dude Big Daddy announced his intention to "tie him to the back of his truck and drive down a dirt road." When his daughter pointed out that her father had expected her brother to marry a Chinese girl, he proclaimed "I'm a racist and a sexist."

When you talk like that you deserve to lose your brand—you're a nazi. Nazi's, contrary to Trump's view, are the enemy because they threaten peace and hinder progress toward equality.

My ex-wife often sided with her parents. That drove a rift in our relationship. It was the thing we fought about the most, and it eventually tore apart our marriage. I thought I had to tolerate it until we had the chance to move far away from her ancestral home. But when that became a real possibility, it became clear she would never be out from under their influence.

And I'll never take that train again.

Laptop Hunt

Yesterday, I entered a transitional phase of life, leaving Nacho Daddy. This is for the best. I have a lot planned for 2018, and new opportunities are already presenting themselves.

I'll write a bit more about my experience going into this transition because I think there's a decent story there, but I first have to find a new laptop.

And since I've been trying to get my Amazon Affiliate game stronger, I figured I'd try something new: Native Ads. So, buried in this post is a chunk of code that should give me suggestions on which laptop to buy. My plan is to click on that ad and let it guide me to my Amazon purchase. 

I basically just need something to help keep me creative. I need a laptop that has a camera so I can continue ruining songs with my FG820 blue sunset guitar and meteor mic. Starting and maintaining a podcast is one of my resolutions for 2018, so I need to get that going ASAP. Anyway, I need a Laptop... and it has to be blue.

If you're wondering about the photo to the left, I googled "sexy girl transitioning from one job to another in the sexiest way possible" and that's what came up with a link to this sexy article »

What Should I Buy for My Bourbon Drinker

If you watch the video above, you might get why I like this bourbon so much. Anyone who thinks Tito's is handmade should take a look. I don't have a personal romantic story to go along with this except I drink it a lot with friends. This bourbon comes with its own story. This is the real deal. This is old-school American craftsmanship at its best, but you get to put it in your mouth and consume it! You can't say that about fancy cars, Jerry Seinfeld!

First up, you see. You see the barrel-shaped bottle with its parchment like wrapping. On closer look, you can see where someone has handwritten where the juice in this thing comes from. And there's a little horse on top with letter by its back leg.

Next is the smell. You can smell that barrel. You can smell Kentucky! You can smell the bluegrass on the morning after a thunderstorm. There's a tiny bit of smoke from where lightning struck the night before.

Then the taste. You can taste the summer humidity. You can taste the sweating pipes in old barns. You can taste the dust settling at dusk as the fireflies start their nightly fandango. The freshly cut trees.

It's a magical drink, and it's not the same for everyone. You see, a single barrel means each batch is slightly different and will never happen exactly the same way again. Now, there's something to be said about the incredible talent some masters possess to create the same bottle over and over again, year in and year out, but there's also something worthwhile knowing that after you're done with some Blanton's bottles, that's it: a unique experience you'll never track back down.

If you're at a bar, if they have it, a dram of this will run you between $23 and $55. I knew a bar that sold it at $15, and I drank all they had. I know a cigar lounge that sells it at $23 here in Vegas, and when they see me coming, they pour it before I sit down. I go there a lot for the bourbon.

A colleague asked me before Christmas what he should get for his friend who is a bourbon-drinker, and this is what I suggested. He went with the easier-to-find Angel's Envy, which is a fine bourbon. But if you want to make someone feel special. . . or better yet, make yourself feel special, buy a bottle of Blanton's.

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A short word about the horses:

When I worked at MGM Grand, I helped work a bar called Whiskey Down. Some bartenders there collected the stoppers because they spell BLANTON'S when you collect them all. You can even buy barrel staves with pre-carved holes into which collectors might insert and display these stoppers.

I'm not a big collector of things, but I have a few of these stoppers, and now I feel like a schmuck not having collected them. I've got a couple N's that are different from one another, which means to me they change these horses fairly frequently, adding to that uniqueness. They're small and easy to forget about in a drawer. Maybe when I get a few more, I'll buy one of those staves. I just found one on Amazon I want:

Ducati and San Pellegrino Join Forces

Who doesn't want to propel oneself at unsafe speeds on a beautifully designed Ducati Motorcycle? Who doesn't enjoy the prickly sensation of a perfectly carbonated bottle of San Pellegrino. I think their working together to design a special edition of the bottle we all know and love is pretty cool. The design is subtle and simple and everything the Italians do well. There's a slogan on the bottom: "Share the Italian Passion."

It makes me think of Italy. That's not something I normally do when I drink a San Pellegrino. But right now, I'm drinking the glass version of the bottle above, and I'm thinking about lazy afternoons in Florence piazzas and late night walks round Trevi Fountain.

Here's more...

Proof

I read a book called Proof: The Science of Booze. I happen to love science and drinks, so when I found out about it, I couldn't resist a trip to the library.

The book goes from yeast to fermentation, to distillation, to tasting and smelling, and ends with a hangover. Although, for some reason Adam Rogers refuses to use an article when writing "hangover," which made me wonder what the proper way of using that word really is.

It's a cleverly constructed project that somehow manages to spice up some pretty dry material with some pretty witty fun. It's like a conversation with your favorite nerd about everyone's favorite drug. Plus, there are Star Trek references.

Rogers travels the world with microbe hunters and yeast cultivators and booze hounds, which is one of my favorite things about the power of beverage: its ability to connect with people and places across time and space with the simplest of gestures. And I've said for some time that we are in the scientific era of beverage in which we'll eventually develop the ability to crack the magical codes of aging and the effects of every congener. So I loved this book.

The adventures of a scientific reporter are enviable, and I wish I knew Adam so that I could have a drink with him and nerd out about Single Malt Scotch and Romulan Ale.

I Found 52 Bottles of Belle Epoque

My boss gave me our dead stock list and said, "see what you can do with this, bud." It was divided into liquor/beer/etc., and I went straight for wine. One of my favorite bottles of Champagne jumped out at me: Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque. And you know what? 2004! 2004 was the first year they started painting the bottles since 1902!!!

I couldn't believe it. I wanted to just open a bottle and drink it. If this were my spot, I'd take one home and drink it alone and take pictures. I still got to taste it, and holy crap. It's 2015 now. So, it's about 10.5 years old, I'd say. That's about the perfect amount of age on a bottle of Champagne, and I have to say, this juice has done well. I mean, this is kept in MGM Grand's cooler, which is perfectly maintained.

Toasty almondy, appley gold, and just a touch of lees to make you know it's been done the old-fashioned way. This is an elegant lady the rougher beasts of this breathing world won't appreciate, but if you've got any finesse, any passing grace, you'll notice the subtle curves in her bubbly mouth. And the outside of the bottle is nice, too. It's hand-painted, designed by a famous Japanese artist, and inspired by Art Nouveau, which is one of my personal favorites when it comes to architecture and design.

Essentially, I found a treasure. I put it in the Mansion bar at MGM Grand a few days ago, and we've sold a couple bottles. I priced it at a seriously low cost because I was really excited about sharing it: $283. That's a steal... like, really.

Anyway, it's my dream that someone will come into the Mansion bar, find it through the high-roller casino, and ask for this very special bottle. Keep the bottle, take it home with you and put it on a shelf. It's special.

Check this out ↯

Ellis Island

Ellis Island is a brewery in Vegas, but who cares? They're not winning any awards any time soon; so what? They're selling their brews for $2.00, and some guy who sounds exactly like R. Kelly is on stage singing Karaoke.

A couple guys sit with me at the bar. They're in Vegas from Colorado to tell resorts if lightning would ever strike the hotel ten times all at once. "No. Well, maybe in ten thousand years. Mostly we tell them what'll happen when the biggest flood Vegas has ever seen comes around." They tell me which properties are safest when Noah's deluge comes round, but the conversation starts and ends with talk of zombie apocalypse. "But we're nice guys; we're not all doom and gloom."

One of the guys sings. it's almost closing time. The lady who sang Amy Winehouse perfectly when I first arrived can hardly stand on stage now. R. Kelly can't read the words on the teleprompter. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.

It's a great crowd. People carry crooners through the choruses, the Karaoke jockey cranks the back up vocals during the verses. There's no shame to be spotted. A group of black ladies gets up and tries to sing Pussy Cat Dolls.

Last call lumbers in like a Lazarus Bukowski because I thought this place was 24. Most of us shuffle out and find our way to the buffet, which is about to open. I make a quick lap of the casino instead and take in the decor and study their brewery through the glass for a few minutes. I've got to keep moving.

I've had a great time, but I'm in no mood to loiter in the light. There's entropy in the air, and I'm starting to think there's an apocalypse afoot. But isn't there always?

Dino's Lounge

Some people think my life is fancy. It is pretty glamorous. But I also love 24-hour dive bars if they have character. I don't like going to some random shit hole, mind you, but if there's a place boasting character and history, I'm probably totally into it. Dino's is one of those places.

I rolled in there in a suit at 3;30 in the morning. It's across the street from a collection of seedy strip joints and sleazy motels that give the northern part of the Boulevard its reputation. Dino's parking lot is the kind of place where you shouldn't be surprised to find me dead one day.

Inside is everything you want out of a place claiming to be "THE LAST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR IN LAS VEGAS." From the spotty neon to the light-bulb-eyed taxidermy to the signs promising events, to the ceiling tiles painted by local artists, there's plenty for your eyes to drink. The only people in the bar were a couple who'd just moved here from Wyoming or something. They wanted to know how to get casino jobs. I told them to stay drug free.

The bartender told me his name was Ryder. I said bartender's choice, and he said Jame-o. This town's relationship with Jameson is zombie-like. I ended up doing some Jame-o shots with Ryder between Dry Manhattans. Turned out Ryder used to live with one of my cocktail servers. He's perfect at the job. He cares about his room and his customers and seems to know everyone in town. I don't know why he's on Grave, but I'm glad he is because at 5 AM, having a bartender like him is a good thing.

A lady comes in wearing a sexed up costume. She works at one of the sexy-waitress-PBR-slinging-rock-n-roll bars. She and Ryder declare their undying affection for one another.Everyone's happy to be alive in a world where the sun is a dying star. In a good bar, it's always 10 PM. At Dino's who gives a shit? It's dark and the world outside is a shambles.

Cops come in and ask for a guy. He's not in here; it's just Ryder and me who have dicks now. We all give each other looks because the cops being in the parking lot means we're staying for a couple more rounds. Ryder knows how to talk to them, and they're nice to him. They say there's a report of a girl getting dragged unwillingly into a car in the parking lot.The name they want came off a license plate check. The girls says she saw the car when she came in, but it's gone now.

I end up leaving at dawnish promising to return. I probably will soon. I like this place. This is my neighborhood.

A Personal Update

FAQ:

What's with your name?

I changed my name when I started travelling seriously and living in other countries. When I came back to the states, I brought a person with me who called me Jack, so everyone else called me Jack, too. Some of my oldest friends and family call me Skyler or Sky. Most of them live in the western United States. Then some people started calling me SkyJack. I like that. But you can call me Sky, Jack, Skyler, SkyJack, or Captain. Those are all the things people still call me, and I'm OK with that. How did I think I was going to have this unique, distinctive, adventurous life without a few different names sticking?

Where do you live now?

I've moved to Las Vegas. It's in the name of my blog now to help people know.

Is your wife with you?

I don't have one of those anymore.

What? What happened?

It turns out I only fall for people who don't have consciences.

Why Vegas?

I've always wanted to move to Las Vegas. I love it here. I grew up coming here at least once or twice a year. My father worked here, my grandmother lived and died here, and I have a cousin and an Aunt here. Plus, work. It might be the only place on earth with opportunities to incorporate my entire skill set. 

Where are you working now?

I'm a Beverage Manager at MGM Grand. It's a dream job for me at this point in my career. I moved my relocation schedule up because they showed interest, and then I was in a holding pattern for a bit, while seasonal managers were moved around and whatnot. Now I'm training and excited about every second of it. There's a lot to take in.

Do you miss Virginia?

I miss some people in Virginia, and I kind of wished I'd seen the leaves change one last time. VA was pretty good to me, when it's all said and done. I did some amazing things professionally, and I saw some stuff I don't think most Americans get to. I lived in Virginia almost exactly the same amount of time I lived in Germany, and I still feel like a German in a lot of ways. Surely, I'll always have a little southern boy in me now, too.

Why didn't you move back to California, either to SF Bay or to live near your mother in SoCal?

I think I might have gotten all the personal development I can out of those places. And moving back to anywhere is symbolically unfortunate. I did consider Los Angeles, but Las Vegas has always been on my target list of places to live. I really want to live in a place where all my friends will visit me from all over the world. Who doesn't visit Vegas at least once? And if they were on the fence about it, now they have a reason to come. I'll always love California, but I don't know if I ever want to live there again.

What about the restaurant?

TBD

When is your new book coming out?

I'm almost halfway done with it. It's the most ambitious project I've ever undertaken in poetry, and it's the most difficult thing I've ever written. Some time in the middle of next year I hope.

Are you going to make any more videos?

I don't think so. I was turned off by the lack of response. Maybe I'll try again, but there's too much going on right now to edit videos. If I had someone to edit them for me, I'd do it.

Isn't Vegas crazy all the time?

Well, it can be. But on my morning runs, inside Las Vegas, I run down a street that often has chickens in the middle of it and there are horses and cows, too. I saw someone walking a miniature pony like a dog. Oh, and burros. And I live next to a fairly big casino. So it's a city of contradictions. I love contradictions. Come visit me and find out.

The Velveteen Rabbit on First Friday.

I'd been wanting to check out the Velveteen Rabbit for a bit.


On First Fridays Art Walk in Las Vegas, there are hot air balloon rides, probably a hundred or so booths, and at least as many food trucks. The arts district here is a fantastic place that couldn't help but remind me of all the Fridays I spent wandering Oakland for Art Murmur. There was a disproportionate amount of street art, spray paint stuff, but other than that, it was great. There were artists doing live paintings, fire workers doing their thing, and more live music than you know what to do with. Also, there were a few art cars on display that I'm sure are cast offs from past Burning Man festivals. First Fridays was great. I wish there were some poetry someplace. . . if there was, I didn't see it.

Bar stands were there, too. You could even text a number and a tequila rep would appear and buy you a drink. And there were mobile ATMs everywhere, too. All and all, just a wonderfully organized event.

There are even free shuttles from Fremont Street. So I went to the container park, got on a double-decker bus, and arrived right at the entrance of the walk. When I was done wandering, I came back to where the bus had dropped me off, and I found out it'd be a few minutes before the next shuttle arrived, and what did I see as I spun around looking for a way to fill my time?! The Velveteen Rabbit! I'd been meaning to get in there, and now was the perfect time!

The blue neon sign is a great clue as to what goes on in there. It's the arts district's mixology bar, replete with elegant DIY lighting, jiggers aplenty, a thick, unpolished bar, and knowledgeable barkeeps that keep things interesting. Super friendly and patient service is what I observed.

I started with one of their seasonal cocktails, asking the bartender what his favorite was. When he suggested one with peach schnapps and mescal, I was slightly apprehensive, but the smokiness balanced by the mellow sweetness was a welcome delight. Then I had a Hank-panky. When you order a drink with Fernet-Branca, "the bartender's handshake," it lets your new friend know you're not just some fuck who doesn't know what he's doing. It was perfect. Then I said one of my favorite things to say: Bartender's choice.

Remember the Maine

He made me a Remember the Maine. I had never had one before, and that's what I love about doing things this way. A new adventure in beverage! In fact, READ THIS ABOUT REMEMBER THE MAINE! It was one of this bartender's favorite classic cocktails, and we got into a pretty awesome conversation about what is great about life in the booze world.

Sidecar

My publisher texted me I should order a Sidecar because he was drinking one in Virginia. So I did, and it was transcendent. One of the bartenders said he went through a long spell when all he drank was Sidecars. I don't often go for them, but I was glad I did that night.

They also have a great beer selection. The tap markers are mannequin hands. A guy next to me was having a hard time trying to decide what to have, and I convinced him to get the Brown from Tenaya Creek. I told him not to sample it, but just get a pint and that if he didn't like it, I'd buy him a round. He loved it. Then he showed me naked pictures of girls he met on Tinder. Girls on Tinder don't send me naked pictures. It cracked me up because what else are you supposed to do in this crazy world where in the span of ten minutes you can have a history lesson taught by a cocktail made in 1933 about a ship exploding in 1898 and then have a guy show you nude photos of a faceless woman on a space age phone after discussing the merit of supporting your local brewery in a city that defies all probability every day?

Tenaya Creek

I went to Tenaya Creek. It's the second oldest brewery in Las Vegas (15 years). They've won a couple medals at GABF, and it's clear why: their beer is pretty delicious. Their taproom had video poker at every stool, and everyone, patrons and service, was really friendly. I ended up getting in conversations with a few people and even a famous doctor who was in town on holiday.

  

Video poker installed at almost every seat, and they have pinball too. I put 50 cents in their Lord of the Rings machine and played for 40 minutes. I dug their wrought iron flight-holding thing that looked like a sculpture.

They've got a few flagships including a fantastic Brown (not too sweet, a little nutty) and a Pale Ale you could write home about if you wanted to make your mom happy--she doesn't hear from you enough! But they also had a bunch of seasonals that were really quite impressive in that there were five of them and they were all kind of epic. The seasonal that stood out for me was the DIPA and their Barley Wine.

 

Someone ordered a Cosmo, and I asked the bartender if they got much call for that sort of thing. She said a lot of people come for the atmosphere even if they aren't beer people, and I can see why: it's a really chill place with friendly locals. Who wouldn't like that?

Thoughts on the Napa 2014 Quake

By now you've heard of the 6.0 Napa Quake in August costing businesses there a conservative $80,000,000. It's probably a lot more. Firstly, let me just say to all those idiots out there who keep saying 6.0 ain't no thing: It is. I grew up in LA and went to school in The Bay, and I will tell you, a 6.0 is major. Half the structural damage you won't notice for years, and you're lucky to have lived through it. And if you're a collector of little glass figurines, and you've put thousands of dollars and years of your time into the collection, imagine how you'd feel picking up its shards. Now imagine if that was a massive cellar of aging wine you'd planned on selling as part of an investment strategy for your business, or worse, retirement.

But that's not even the worst of it. You might have harvested and crushed and aged for a year. You were about to bottle to make room in barrels for an October harvest. Too bad; you just lost your 2013 batch. And if you'd already started on your 2014, tough break, kid.

And all of that is why I think Napa wines will be 15-30% more costly from 2013, 2014, and maybe even 2015. And that is probably mostly going to be on the shelves because wineries have already maxed out what they can charge tourists in Napa (they've been fleecing visitors more and more each year).

On another note, I hope there will be a cool factor associated with 2014, maybe even collector's edition bottles commemorating the great quake. I personally would like to have a few bottles in my cellar like that, break 'em out at parties and have a story to tell.

But here't the other thing: If I were a winery in Oregon, Washington, New York, Virginia, or maybe even France or Argentina, I would DROP my prices ever-so-slightly. No one is taking down Cali any time soon, but I do think there is some brand development opportunity available to anyone willing to make a go of it next year. "Hey Napa's expensive this year, but check out this similar quality Cab from XYZ. It's usually more expensive than Napa, but they've actually lowered their price this year, and now they're CHEAPER than the Napa label." That's the pitch. EASY!

But I really do feel for the citizens of Napa and to anyone who loves Napa wine. It's a tragedy, it really is.

tragic