When They Ran For The Roses

Greeting to all this first Sunday in May 2009.

Did ya watch the Kentucky Derby yesterday? I’m not really a big fan of horse racing, but the Kentucky Derby’s something special. It’s more than a hose race, it’s one of the premier social events in our country. The Kentucky Derby has been run continually since 1875, not bad marketing considering the race runs just a tick or so past two minutes. It’s the persona of the Blue Grass Section of Kentucky. Fast horses and pretty women, or was it pretty horses and fast …., I’m not gona go there. In the eyes of many, it’s the single most important thing Kentucky has going for it. It certainly the most recognized. Any time anything beats 50:1 odds it’s kinda exciting. Say what you may about horse racing, but Mine the Bird did Run For The Roses.

However, those who drink Bourbon Whisky may well support a different point of view on what’s the most important thing in Kentucky.

Now in Kentucky and elsewhere in our country, the production of whisky is a very highly regulated and taxed industry. An example being the federal tax on whisky is somewhere in the neighborhood of $13.50 per gallon, and a lot of gallons are produced and that’s just the Federal Tax, each state has additional tax.

Despite the fact that Bourbon may be the whisky of choice for many, Corn whisky is the one that gets all the attention when it comes to stories about the south and the production of alcohol.

Truly an American whiskey, and in fact the predecessor to Bourbon. An unaged, clear alcohol, it’s the whiskey the Scotch-Irish people (like the Howards) produced in their homemade stills for family use or to trade for store merchandise. When state and federal excise taxes were put on homemade whisky during the Civil War, most of the production of Corn whiskey went underground to become moonshine. Where it remains to this day.

Unlike all other whiskeys that are highly regulated and controlled by the federal government, Moonshine Whiskey (a.k.a. white lightning, Corn likker, or white dog) is self regulated by the manufactures, it’s not necessarily made from the same recipe every time either.

Moonshine is cooked from a mixture of ground up corn and sugar and whatever else the moonshiner may have available to kick it up a notch to extend the volume. The rule of thumb being “if ya can eat it, ya can cook it, if ya can cook it, ya can drink it, if ya can drink it, ya can sell it.”

Like all other manufactured products, quality control is paramount in ensuring an excellent product for the market place. And so it is with Moonshine.

There are three steps in quality control. The first quality control being smell, mix all ingredients, stir each day unit it smells right. If it don’t smell right, it just aint right, don’t cook it till it smells just right.

The second quality control check being, after ya cook it, light it. When ya light the moon, it don’t turn blue. (the higher the alcohol content, the less blue appearance of the flame, 100% alcohol burns without any visible blue flame)

The third section of quality control being taste. If ya can speak within 15 seconds after a mouthful of moon, ya made it wrong.

A great deal of care and planning also goes into the ageing process of Moonshine Whisky. In fact, it’s this care and planning of the ageing process that gives Moonshine Whisky it one of its kind taste and bouquet.

As a matter of routine, Moonshine Whisky is aged in Mason Jars for the length of time it takes the purchaser to get home from the Moonshiner’s house, or the Duke Boys to make a delivery in the General Lee. Whichever is shorter.

There have been rumors of Moonshine whisky having been aged as long as two weeks, but such rumors are mostly discredited due to lack of documentation along with creditable eye witness reports or physical evidence.

I almost forgot to tell ya, ya gotta bring your own Mason Jars. And no, there’re no tours of the factory, no free samples, or those little cheese and crackers plates like ya find at those griley-man wineries .

If I had to describe the taste of Moonshine whisky, I’d say it’s kinda like walking through the fires of hell while snorting Wasabi Mayonnaise up your nose.

The devils drink, that Moonshine Whisky.

Yesterday the folks at the Kentucky Derby, they forgot the original Kentucky whisky and drank Mint Juleps. Wimps.

Sophia, the Republican cat, just walked by with her list and informed me the 100 days are up and she’s ready to take on the new President for having the nerve to get a stupid dog named Bo and not a Republican Cat. She said actually that was complaint number 101. Said I get to see the rest of her list Tuesday. Why Tuesday, I don’t have a clue nor did she offer. Will just have to wait and see. Even though she’s a republican I love the way that cat smiles.

Did ya ever wonder where old sayings come from? Things like “ It’s raining cats and dogs”. “A Complete Collection of Polite and Ingenious Conversation” by Jonathan Swift in 1738 Seems to be the earliest written reference to raining cats and dogs that I could find anywhere.

Now this Jonathan Swift fellow is an interesting author to say the least, a story teller in rhyme, he wrote of the things he saw in life. Our lives today are so removed for the early 1740’s it’s hard to even comprehend the world of Jonathan Swift.

Imagine if you can, a city the size of Indianapolis Indiana without a sanitary sewer system, no paved streets or sidewalks, no garbage pickup, no water distribution system, no organized food distribution system, a part of the city is built on a hill, and when it rains gravity takes control of the water………….

Jonathan Swift wrote of just such conditions some thirty years before he wrote about “it’s raining cats and dogs” when he wrote “A Description of A City Shower” in 1710. Life in London England was not a pretty site when it rained.

“Now in contiguous Drops the Flood comes down, Threat'ning with Deluge this devoted Town.Now from all Parts the swelling Kennels flow, And bear their Trophies with them as they go:Filth of all Hues and Odours seem to tell. What Street they sail'd from, by their Sight and Smell.They, as each Torrent drives, with rapid Force, From Smithfield or St. Pulchre's shape their Course,And in huge Confluent join'd at Snow-Hill Ridge, Fall from the Conduit, prone to Holbourn-Bridge.Sweeping from Butchers Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood, Drown'd Puppies, stinking Sprats, all drench'd in Mud, Dead Cats and Turnip-Tops come tumbling down the Flood.”

Now that don’t paint a pretty picture of city life. Did ya notice that they kinda talked funny back then? I’m sure if Jonathan Swift could see the ramblings from the East Wing, he wouldn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. Course ya don’t have to be Jonathan Swift to not have a clue what I’m talking about, I’m sure lots of people think that about me all the time. I even think that about me half the time.

For all those who may wish to return to the “old fashion way” of life, may I suggest you go back and re-read “A Description of A City Shower” , just two paragraphs up, one more time, and if that don’t work, re-read again, sooner or later ya’ll start to see the real meaning of the poem. All cities of the time were hell on earth when it came to rain, or even snow, but especially rain.

From the people I know, I’m sure there are some who would still say life was simple and easy back then. It may well have been, but I bet it smelled.

With all my girls now asleep (2dogs, 1cat, 1wife) I take pleasure in the silence of the darkness in this the late part of the spring day.

I thank you so much for visiting with me this evening, I look forward to my fingers talking to your eyes once again from the keyboard.

Stay safe in Baghdad.
From the East Wing the day after they ran for the roses, and drank the Mint Juleps. Wimps.
I wish you well,
BobbyRay