Steve has inspired me to speak up when the time is right, so when my good pal Andrew (called “Assistant Brewmaster” by the humans) showed me an email a friend sent him about “kittens on the ‘to be destroyed’ list” at the Brooklyn Animal Control Center (2336 Linden Boulevard), I couldn’t help but pass on the word about these little guys in need of emergency placement. Scroll down to meet them…
In the current issue of TAPS beer magazine, an article heavily featuring yours truly dares to state the truth brewers worldwide refuse to acknowledge: they need cats to make beer. The picture of me on the second page (shown below the jump) may look like I’m fast asleep on a fluffy bag of tempurrrpedic barley, and although I may in fact be deep in a dream about big fluffy dogs trying to steal the last of this year’s Black Chocolate Stout, you can rest assured that mass of malt is safe from harm.
Read more below for an excerpt from the piece (and if you see my manager, tell him it’s “just appropriate” for him to get me a bowl of milk)…
So what did you do yesterday? Got a bunch of stuff done? Good for you!
I did this. Took me all day, but well worth the effort. Little known fact that koalas are actually vicious fighters and were originally bred to protect farmers against raiding dingo gangs. Perched on high above the Australian plains, they’d drop down on those dogs like fluffy thunder, and with razor sharp claws make quick work of their foe. Which reminds me: the people up in the office told me I need to start talking about Brooklyn Brewery more and less about my Internet findings, so here goes:
As soon as Tom got his beer-stained hands off my mouse, I saw that the Marketing Coordinator up in the office emailed me an op-ed piece about the 26 happiest animals. Good stuff, but they made a grave omission:
I won’t name names, but one of my largest detractors sits at the front desk upstairs in the office. If you call the main brewery phone number, chances are he’ll answer. He won’t know I’m writing about him here because he pretends my blog doesn’t exist. So when he sent me a link to an article entitled, “What If All the Cats in the World Suddenly Died”, I thought he discovered the surprise I left in his mailbox, but instead the article includes illuminating cat-facts such as:
+ Experts say that if all the world’s cats suddenly died, things would quickly go to hell in a handbasket.
+ … let’s not forget the emotional toll that a mass cat death would take on us humans…
+ Cats as pets have always been appreciated for the contact, relatively low maintenance, and pedomorphic (child-like) face and general morphology.
I can only guess my #1 Fan just read the title of the article without reading the article itself. Just like when he came in the other day saying how disappointed he was with Burroughs’ The Naked Lunch.
One of our Brand Managers showed me a collection of recently-discovered paintings that have been unveiled to an enthralled art world by this Russian Web Site. The pieces depict a lethargic cat thrust into various classical scenarios, i.e. riding a shell, relaxing in a meadow, floating through Salvador Dali’s subconscious, etc., which got me thinking about the countless pieces of art that will one day commemorate my own legacy. I’d rather not be remembered for giving the king of Spain a lift down the valley, so I’m getting off my malt bag and onto the treadmill.
Steve forwarded me an email last Friday with the above photograph attached and “Wwwrrooowlllll!!!!” as the subject line.
Later that day, over dropped bits of lunch I was munching off the floor, Steve explained that the picture is of his friend’s cat, Henry Hudson, and in turn I taught the perplexed brewery founder that the term wwwrrooowlllll is north African in origin and historically used to announce the sudden approach of a challenger. We deduced that Henry Hudson must believe his floating around in an empty Brooklyn mixed case is reason enough to justify an unsolicited application for my succession (not the first to try). My response to Henry Hudson:
Sent: Friday, January 27, 2012 3:07 PM
To: Henry Hudson
Cc: Steve Hindy
Subject: Re: Fwd: Wwwrrooowlllll!!!!
Dear Henry Hudson,
My advice to you is twofold:
 Ask your owner what “no vacancy” means.
 Get the hint.
The people here just can’t stop talking about the bet they won with some other people on the other side of the country. Beer and Giants jerseys are being packaged up and sent west to San Francisco for the folks of the Golden Gate to enjoy, and thoughts of championship glory are now bent towards Boston.
All fine and well, except I’m not a Giants fan. Convinced “Big Blue” was going down, I’d been wearing my 49ers jersey around the brewery all last week until brewer Tom took it from me and crushed it up in the mill room. Hard to fight back without opposable thumbs.