#Firebrand Brewery
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hatfejusarkany · 2 years ago
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ProShot test photos in The Constitution, Camden, late 2020
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handeaux · 4 years ago
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Green Beer Came Later: Cincinnati’s Original, Old-Time, Irish Saloons
So ubiquitous are the photographs of mustachioed men, feet up on the brass rail, plug hats screwed firmly upon their noggins, that you might be forgiven if you concluded that all Queen City saloons were identical. This is not the case.
For evidence, let us turn to a meeting of the General Protective Association of Saloon-Keepers convened on Tuesday, 24 April 1883, to discuss a new state law taxing dispensaries of alcoholic potations. Although the meeting convened at a German hall, the president, J.J. Abbihl, introduced the agenda in English. According to the next day’s Commercial Tribune:
“As Mr. Abbihl spoke in the English language, Mr. Albert Springer made a motion that the German language be used in the discussion, but it was agreed to make the explanations in English on account of the importance of the meeting.”
Although the German beer garden holds a sacred place in the gilded memories of Cincinnati, a fair number of local pubs were helmed by Irish and American barkeeps. Any discussion of group meetings involving saloon keepers is clear to distinguish between “German saloon keepers” and “American and Irish saloon keepers.” (Of course, in their segregated neighborhoods, there were also Black saloon-keepers, but they were not allowed to join the protective associations.)
In general, the Irish saloons hewed closer to the river, and you can see this among the watering holes listed in the city directories. You find O’Brien’s at Third & Ludlow, O’Herron’s at Plum & Ann, McCoy’s on Front Street, McSweeney’s at the southern end of John and Connor’s way down on Central.
While the Germans colonized Over-the-Rhine, that was not always the case. The WPA Guide to Cincinnati relates that O’Bryonville, with its Irish namesake but early nickname as “Dutchtown,” accommodated Germans and Irish in (not always happy) comity:
“Thenceforth the name Dutchtown also was applied to the community, and many arguments were started over the bars between Irish and German customers who were constantly striving for social supremacy in the little community.”
This distinction was underlined in 1877 when saloon-keepers throughout the city gathered to pressure Cincinnati’s brewers into maintaining standard prices. Throughout Cincinnati, you paid 5 cents for a tall glass of beer, except in a few disreputable dives where suds were dispensed at two glasses for a nickel. The saloon-keepers realized that there was only one way the dives could afford two beers at that price – some brewery was selling stock at a discount. In those confrontations, the German saloonists met at one location and the Irish and American barkeeps met at another. Although they endorsed the viewpoint of the German proprietors, the Irish and Americans elected their own delegation to confront the brewers.
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It is clear, from newspaper coverage that the menus differed between German saloons and American and Irish saloons.  William C. Smith, in his wonderful little book, “Queen City Yesterdays: Sketches of Cincinnati In The Eighties,” makes a distinction between the beer-centered German establishments and the Irish and America saloons that purveyed mostly the harder stuff. Smith avers there ought to be a strict differentiation between beer saloons and what he calls “boozing kens.” His description offers a physiological excuse for Irish and American drinking patterns:
“On a shelf next to the wall various brands of liquor were in evidence, some labeled and others in plain bottles, the quality of the latter known only to God and the proprietor. These emporiums were patronized by the Irish and American inhabitants who believed their stomachs to be lined with a substance that beer might corrode, whereas whiskey apparently acted only as a preservative and polishing agent.”
That distinction is fortified by a joke that, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [23 September 1917], was so old it caused Cain to slay Abel:
“An Irish saloon keeper hired a new bartender. A man came in and got a drink of whisky and then said: ‘I’ll pay for this Saturday. My name is Murphy. The boss knows me.’
“’Wait and I’ll ask the boss,’ said the bartender. ‘Oh. boss,’ yelled the bartender up the stairs. ‘Is Murphy good for a drink?’
“’Has he had it?’ asked the boss.
“’He has,’ replied the bartender.
“’He is,’ replied the boss.”
It is not the case that all Irish and American saloons sold whiskey exclusively. Perhaps the premier Irish saloon in Cincinnati was Andy Gilligan’s Caf�� on Vine Street directly opposite the Enquirer building between Sixth and Seventh streets. For nearly thirty years, Gilligan was famous for his luxurious beard, extending from his chin to his belt buckle. On warm days he was a living Vine Street landmark, basking in the afternoon sun as he stood outside his café enjoying a good 15-cent cigar. Gilligan ran book on local prizefights, but the cops usually looked the other way. He was known as an easy touch for actors down on their luck and a frequent host to heavy-weight champ (and prodigious drinker) John L. Sullivan. Despite his largesse, Gilligan left an estate worth a respectable $75,000 in 1905 dollars. Decades after his death, the Cincinnati Post printed a remembrance:
“Do you remember when no St. Patrick’s Day was complete without a peek at Colonel Andy Gilligan and his long whiskers resting on a great green sash in the Hibernians’ annual March 17 parade?”
During World War I, as Prohibition loomed, evidence accumulated that all of Cincinnati’s saloon-keepers were in the same, sinking, boat. As anti-German hysteria swept the city, nationalist firebrands were quick to point out Irish saloons catering to a German clientele. According to the Cincinnati Post [14 September 1917]:
“James J. Dolan runs a saloon at Richmond-st. and Central-av., which he calls ‘Zum Guten Happen.’ Now that German has nearly been put out of the schools, somebody, no doubt, will start a movement to put it out of Irish saloons.”
A similar situation obtained at an Oakley saloon managed by Patrick J. McHugh, called “Auf Wiedersehen.”
No discussion of Irish saloons can conclude without a mention of green beer. Now, before 1917, “green beer” meant improperly aged suds. A 1908 Wiedemann advertisement advised against drinking green beer because “it has practically no flavor and will cause biliousness.”
As for the annual emerald-hued St. Patrick’s Day quaff, blame the Elks. In 1917, in honor of the patron saint of Ireland, Cincinnati’s Elks lodges consumed green beer in abundant quantities. According to the Cincinnati Post, the verdant libation was concocted by a German brewer.
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bragbeer · 6 years ago
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North Cornwall Beer Guide
Visiting Cornwall this year? In the first of our beer guides we start off with the North of Cornwall. This is just to give you some idea’s of places to drink but why not go off the beaten track and find your own little gem. There is so many little country pubs in the North that you can easily find somewhere for a pint or 2.
We start off with a couple brewery's. The first being Padstow Brewery where you can get a tour around the brewery (£25) or if you want to you can get a little more hands on with a brewing experience day. With the tour you get to take a beer gift pack home with you. Wanting something a bit quicker? Then head to their tasting room in the heart of Padstow. You can try the drinks here and also buy bottles and cans to take home with you. Try Windjammer. Sat Nav: PL28 8BS
Further up the coast you can visit Tintagel Brewery. You do not have an option to do a tour here but this is a great place to visit as not only can you try all of their beers here you can also eat in their restaurant and have their Wagyu beef from the onsite farm. There is an outside play area ideal for families. Try Excalibur. Sat Nav: PL34 OHJ
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There are plenty of other breweries on the North coast that may not have visitor centres but they do have great beers. Firebrand Brewery - Neipa or Graffiti IPA. Atlantic Brewery - Sea salt Stout or honey ale. Sharps Brewery - Offshore Pilsner or Hellweathers. Special shout outs to Black Flag Brewery who do my current favourite beer in Fang and Sunset Brewing Co who have the stylish Archipelago Xpa. These beers are some of our go to beers but why not try others and let us know which you find and like? 
We could list some pubs for you to visit but just go out find your own  new favourite. North Cornwall does have a Micro pub in The Barrel at Bude. They are only open Thursday to Sundays but not only do they have some of the county's best beers but they also brew their own. Wanting to buy some of these beers before you head home? Head to Wadebridge wines and check out their great selection of Ales, Ciders, spirits and surprisingly Wines. They are very knowledgeable if you are a little stuck as to what to buy. 
Thanks for reading and keep an eye out for our next guide for those visiting the South this year. Follow us on facebook and instagram to keep upto date.
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plutojones · 4 years ago
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Chapter Seven: Dampened Spirits
Andie makes her way to the second floor of the Bee and Barb, to the secluded table and chairs where an older woman with black hair similar to her own waits. The woman looks up with a judgmental gaze, looking Andie up and down.
“So you're the one. Hmm. You don't look so impressive.”
Andie stops in her tracks and just raises an eyebrow at Maven. “Well then, why don’t we skip pleasantries all together and get to the point?”
A temporary smirk crosses Maven’s face. “You're a firebrand, aren't you? It's about time Brynjolf sent me someone with business sense. I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggar's guild over there.”
“You’ve no faith in the guild? Even after the Goldenglow job?”
“Faith? I don't have faith in anyone. All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly. There's no gray area.”
“Whatever the details, I’ll get them done.”
“I hope so. This is an important job. I have a competitor called Honningbrew Meadery that I want to put out of business. I also want to know how they managed to get the place up and running so quickly.” She pauses a beat. “One more time in case I wasn't clear. You butcher this job and you'll be sorry.”
Andie gives her the most forced smile she’s ever made in her whole life. “Crystal. May I ask you a few questions before I go?”
“Fine.”
“How exactly did you become allied with the Thieves Guild?”
“The Black-Briar family has always been allied with the Guild. Our connections with the Empire and within Skyrim make for a perfect fit. I dare say the Guild owes its survival as much to my family as it does to its own people.”
“Who runs the show at Honningbrew Meadery?”
“Some layabout called Sabjorn. Been a thorn in my side for the last few years now.” She sighs and picks up the wine glass on the table.
“Sabjorn sounds like more than just friendly competition.”
“Not a day goes by that I don't regret letting Sabjorn get as far as he did. In only a few short years, he's taken that bile he calls mead to market and a chunk of my profits with it! I can't imagine where he found the gold to take it to market so quickly.”
“So get rid of him and he's no longer a threat.”
“Exactly. With Sabjorn in prison, his meadery will be forced to close. Then I swoop in and take over the place. No more competition.”
“Why strike now?”
“The Goldenglow Estate job undoubtedly interrupted the supply of honey I need to make my mead. Sabjorn could use this interruption to his advantage and collect a larger share of the market. I can't have that.”
“Understood. I’ll be one my way.” Andie turns to leave and makes her way out before allowing Maven a chance to get the last word.
Whiterun. The place of her first real job for the guild. She had been here a few times since then, of course, a few other odd jobs here and there. Still, it was always a reminder of how far she had come in the past few weeks. She didn’t mind the travel. It was nice to get fresh air, see new sights. Still, she missed the guild. She missed those rare evenings of song and dance, ale and meat. But most of all, she missed the quiet moment after the celebrations. The ones where she and Brynjolf would sit next to each other off to the side in the shadows, watching everyone else, silently enjoying each other's company. He had quickly become a comfort and a confidant to her. Someone she felt she could rely on.
The carriage slowly came to a halt at a crossroads in front of the great city at Dragonsreach. Hopping out, she gave the driver a tip before making her way past the city walls to the tavern. Finding her way there was easy, she’d been there many times before. With a nod to the owner, she turned towards the kitchen, looking for the one called Mallus. A pale man with deep, dark circles under his eyes, he looked up at her with an expression of annoyance.
“Can't a man drink in peace?”
“Maven said you're expecting me.” Andie crossed her arms, still standing above the seated man.
“I'm going to keep this short 'cause we've got a lot to do. Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard and we're going to poison the mead.”
“You have the poison?”
“No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us. The meadery has quite a pest problem and the whole city knows about it. Pest poison and mead don't mix well, you know what I mean?”
“Where do I fit in?”
Mallus smirks. “You're going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He's going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vat.”
“Heh. Clever.”
“Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need is someone like you to get in there and get it done. Now get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work.”
“How do I get to the brewing vats?”
“Both of the buildings are connected by tunnels made by the pests infesting the meadery. There's an entrance to it in the basement storeroom of the warehouse that used to be boarded over. I've already removed the boards so the meadery would get infested. That's where you should start.”
“What about just going in through the brewery?”
“Sabjorn keeps that locked up tight. If you can get through that way, go right ahead.”
“Why are you doing all this? I know what Maven wants, but what about you?”
“I made the mistake of borrowing coin from Sabjorn. He's allowing me to pay it back, but he's working my fingers to the bone! He treats me like a slave... I have to do every nasty, dirty job in the meadery.” At that Andie rolls her eyes. Probably an exaggeration.
“There's more to this than a debt, isn't there?”
“If this plan works, not only is my debt gone, but I'll be set up for life. Maven and I worked out a little deal. If Sabjorn ends up in jail, she's going to take over his meadery. And guess who gets to run the Black-Briar Meadery in Whiterun? You're looking at him.”
“Why bother poisoning the nest for Sabjorn?”
“Once Sabjorn is out of the way, Maven has plans for this place. One way or another, we don't want the pests coming back. Consider it just more of the dirty work. I did my part getting them in there, now you need to clear them out.”
“Fine. I’ll be on my way then.”
“Remember, Sabjorn will be needing a helping hand. Make it look good.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” She waves him off as she makes her way back out the tavern and into the streets of Whiterun. Making her way back out the gates, she takes in a deep breath as she walks out towards the large brewery near the windmills surrounding the city. As she enters the building, she puts on a warm, helping smile.
Immediately she’s met with a hostile glare from a scowling older man.
“What are you gawking at? Can't you see I have problems here?”
Andie blinks for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Is something wrong?”
“Are you kidding me? Look at this place. I'm supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard. If he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined.”
“Well, I’d be willing to help.”
“Oh really? And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you? I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's done.”
“Well you’d better, or I yell ‘skeevers’.” Those once warm eyes flash cold once more as the smile drops and her expression turns serious.
“Okay, okay. No need to make rash decisions. Here's half. You get the rest when the job's done. My only demand is that these vermin are permanently eliminated before my reputation is completely destroyed.”
“How do I "permanently" clear the vermin?”
“I bought some poison. I was going to have my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant Mallus handle it, but he seems to have vanished. If you plant this in the vermin's nest, it should stop them from ever coming back.” He huffs and crosses his arms after handing her the poison.
“Who’s Mallus?”
“Mallus is the best deal I've ever made. Lent him a bit of gold some time ago I knew he'd never be able to pay back. Nothing like free labor to make operating costs cheaper.”
Oh. So it wasn’t an exaggeration. Okay then. Fuck this guy.
“I’ll get going.”
“Don’t come back till you’re done!” He shouts as she walks further into the brewery.
Andie enters into the basement of the building and finds the hole leading into the underground. Ahead she hears the skittering of skeevers, indicating to her it was time to pull out the good ol’ bow and arrow. With a deep breath she lowers herself towards the ground and begins sneaking down the tunnel, arrow at the ready. Here in the darkness, the shadows wrap around her, hiding her from the gaze of the pests. One arrow, two arrows, three. She watches the skeevers fall one at a time to each of her arrows. She collects what arrows are still intact and continues on her way down the tunnel. After a while, and many skeevers, sees a small light up ahead, and the figure of a man. She furrows her brow in confusion but continues to sneak up regardless. Standing no more than a few feet from him she slowly stands up.
“H-hello?”
“Huh? Who’s there?!” He spins around with a wild look in his eye and immediately screams when he sees her, casting a spell that she just barely dodges.
“Shit!” She drops the bow and pulls out her daggers, rushing forward and slashing him once with each. The first catches him off guard, and the second silences him for good.
Andie takes a deep breath, letting his body fall to the ground as she steps back. She stands there staring at him before spotting the nest out of the corner of her eyes. Mindlessly, she takes some of the poison and sets it in the nest. With one last look at the madman, she continues down the tunnel until she makes it to the brewery. Finding her way in, and alone, she climbs up to the second floor, dumps the rest of the poison into one of the vats, and then climbs back down. She lets herself out of the brewery and back towards the front door that leads to the bar area.
Entering in she can see Mallus, Sabjorn, and another fellow: most likely this captain fellow. She approaches Sabjorn and holds out the empty vial.
 “Job’s finished.”
“Well it's about time! I had to stall the captain until you were finished.”
“Well? Where’s the rest of my pay?” She holds out her hand.
“You'll just have to wait until after the captain's finished. I suppose you can wait around if you must.” He shoos her off and makes his way over to the captain. With a roll of her eyes, she shares a glance with Mallus before taking a seat nearby.
“Well, Sabjorn. Now that you've taken care of your little pest problem, how about I get a taste of some of your mead?”
“Help yourself, milord. It's my finest brew yet... I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate.”
“Oh come now, this is mead... not some wine to be sipped and savored.” He takes a sip of the drink and immediately starts spitting it out. “By the Eight?! What... what's in this?”
“I... I don't know. What's wrong?”
“You assured me this place was clean! I'll see... see to it that you remain in irons for the rest of your days!”
“No, please! I don't understand…”
“Silence, idiot! I should have known better... to trust this place after it's been riddled with filth.”
“I beg you... please. This is not what it seems!”
“You,” He points to Mallus. “You're in charge here until I can sort this all out.”
“It will be my pleasure.” Mallus gives a bow while doing his best to hide a wicked grin.
“And you... you're coming with me to Dragonsreach. We'll see how quickly your memory clears in the city's prisons. Now move.”
“Look, I assure you, this is all just a huge misunderstanding!”
“I said move!” The captain grabs Sabjorn by the shoulder and forces him forward, leading him out of the building.
No longer hiding the smile, Mallus turns to Andie and clasps his hands together. “I don't think that could have gone any better. Anything else you need before you head back to Riften?”
“I need to get a look at Sabjorn's books.”
“So, Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner, huh? You're welcome to take a look around Sabjorn's office. He keeps most of his papers stashed in his desk. Here, this should help.” He hands Andie the key to the office.
“What are you going to do with this place?”
“Start changing it over to the Black-Briar Meadery West as soon as possible. That was Maven's part of the deal. She's put me in charge of keeping the mead flowing, so that's exactly what I'm going to do. If you're in the area and you ever need anything fenced, you just let me know.”
Andie hesitates for a second before speaking again. “You never mentioned that lunatic living in the tunnels.”
“I thought it would be better to leave some of the details out of our previous discussion. Didn't want to risk you walking away from the job. Besides, you've done Maven a favor getting rid of him and saved me from wasting coin hiring someone else to do it later.”
“Right…” She turns to head to the second floor of the building.
“Remember to put in a good word with Maven for me!”
Making her way to Sabjorn’s private chambers, she searches around for a short while before finding documents hidden away in one of his drawers. A cursory glance reveals the same symbol seen on the Goldenglow documents. She raises an eyebrow but quickly stuff the papers away. Looking towards a door in the back of the room, and finding it locked, she of course picks the lock and sneaks her way in. She had heard from Delvin of a special decanter at the meadery before heading out that he’d be interested in - surely Mallus won’t miss it. There’s a small smirk on her face as she slips it into her bag and re-locks the door behind her before making her way out of the meadery, down to where the carriage driver is waiting, and back to Riften…
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Once again on the second floor of the Bee and Barb, Andie approaches the older, dark haired woman. Maven doesn’t look up at her as she comes to a stop by the table, eyes focused outside the window the table sits next to.
“I trust you have good news for me.”
“Job’s completed. Here's the information you requested” She pulls out the papers and sets them on the table in front of Maven.
“This doesn't tell me much. The only thing that could identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol.” Maven points to the bottom of one of the pages.
“Yes. I've seen that symbol before.”
“Well, whoever this mysterious marking represents, they'll regret starting a war with me. You should bring this information to the Thieves Guild immediately. There's also the matter of your payment. I believe you'll find this more than adequate for your services.” She pulls out a rather large pouch of gold and sets it on the table. Andie scoops it up and shoves it in her bag, turning to go and disappear down the stairs once more, not letting Maven speak anymore.
Andie makes her way through the marketplace, towards the graveyard. The small building that sits in the cemetery holds the secret entrance to the cistern. Brynjolf had pointed it out to her at some point after she had joined when he realized she kept traveling through the Ratway. Pressing the button on the stone coffin, it shifts into the wall, revealing a hidden staircase beneath the floor leading to a ladder. As it closes again above her, she slides down the ladder into the cistern. She greets the other thieves there, Sapphire, Cynric, Rune, Niruin, and Thrynn. They all tended to hang out in the space near the secret passage, so she would regularly greet them when she came and went. Walking past, she quickly spotted Brynjolf sitting on the edge of the pool, boots dangling in the water. Without looking towards her, eyes focused in the water, he speaks.
“Word on the street is that poor Sabjorn has found himself in Whiterun's prison. How unfortunate for him.” A moment later he looks over his shoulder with a smile.
“Very fortunate for Maven though.” She sighs and lowers herself to take a seat next to him.
“Exactly! Now you're beginning to see how our little system works.”
She looks at him, tired and annoyed. His only response is a shrug.
“Just cause that’s how things have been, doesn’t mean that’s how it should be.”
“Yes, well, in any case Maven sent word that you discovered something else while you were out there. Something important to the Guild?”
“I did. The same symbol from Goldenglow was involved.”
“Then this is beyond coincidence. First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild.”
“Anything we can do?”
“Mercer thinks he knows a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He wants to meet with you right away. And if I were you I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before.” He gives her a pat on the shoulder before shifting to stand up. He holds out a hand to help her up.
Accepting the hand, she pulls herself up. Once standing, she dusts herself off and flashes him a smile before turning towards the desk Mercer is currently leaning over.
Without looking up from the table, he addresses Andie as she approaches.
“Ah, there you are. I've consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate, but no one can identify that symbol.”
“I found the same marking at Honningbrew Meadery.”
“It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever…”
“You admire them?” She raises an eyebrow, looking him over questioningly.
“They're well-funded and they've been able to avoid identification for years. I'm impressed it reached this point. Just don't mistake my admiration for complacency; our nemesis is going to pay dearly.”
“How can we make them pay?”
“Because, even after all their posturing and planning, they've made a mistake. The parchment you recovered mentions a "Gajul-Lei." According to my sources, that's an old alias used by one of our contacts. His real name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy bastard.”
“Where do I begin?”
“Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude. I'm betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and that he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down and see what you come up with. Talk to Brynjolf before you leave if you have any questions.” He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, speaking just above a whisper to himself. “Aringoth was a fool to think he could get away with this.”
Andie debates speaking for a moment, but asks her question anyway.
“How is all this affecting the guild?”
“Goldenglow Estate provided a huge payout for us before Aringoth locked us out. Maven looked the other way as long as the honey kept flowing and we kept him in line.”
“And Honningbrew?”
“Let's not kid ourselves. Black-Briar Mead is swill. The only thing keeping it successful is Maven. Word on the street was that Honningbrew tasted better, cost less and Sabjorn didn't shove it down everyone's throat. If Sabjorn ever managed to push Maven off her pedestal, we'd all be in trouble.”
“Seems like all our eggs are in one basket…”
At that Mercer looks up from the table with a scowl. “Look, in case you hadn't noticed, these aren't the glory days of the Guild. We've lost more clients in the last decade than I'd care to count, but Maven's stuck with us throughout the entire ordeal. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose her to... well, to whatever they are.”
She hesitates for another moment, but speaks again. “What’s Gulum-Ei’s story?”
“When Gulum-Ei was getting us merchandise from the East Empire Company, we were making a hefty profit. It was so lucrative, I was considering moving the Guild to Solitude to save us time.” He shakes his head again and looks down at the table. “It would be a waste now.”
“What happened?”
“Gulum-Ei started to get greedy and cut us out of the deal. Almost can't say I blame the scaly bastard. It started out innocent enough; he kept claiming the shipments were light because of Imperial interference. Then, maybe a few years ago, it all stopped. He didn't even bother to contact us anymore.”
“Understood. I’ll go speak with Brynjolf.”
He doesn’t acknowledge her any further as she turns to walk away. Deep down she understood that he was probably doing the best he could for the guild, carrying the burden alone, but he always felt so distant, so secretive. What the hell was his deal?
She shakes her head as she makes her way across the bridge towards the tunnels to the Ragged Flagon. Once there, she flips a few septims onto the table where Delvin sits.
“I got you another present.” She pulls out the decanter and sets it in front of him.
He smiles and nods slowly. “I’ve been wanting this one for ages. Drinks are on me tonight.” He slides the coins back to her. “I swear, with every job you do you’re breaking this curse.”
She smiles back and gives him a wink before turning towards where Brynjolf is sitting at the bar.
“Hey there stranger. You new in town?”
He rolls his eyes and turns to look at her. “So? What’d Mercer say?”
“He told me to go to Solitude and talk to a Gulum-Ei.”
At the sound of the name his eyebrows furrow. “I can't believe Gulum-Ei's mixed up in all this; that Argonian couldn't find his tail with both hands. Don't get me wrong, he could scam a beggar out of his last septim... but he's no mastermind.”
She takes the seat next to him. “Think he’ll give me trouble?”
“Trouble? He's one of the most stubborn lizards I've ever met! You have your work cut out for you.”
“So how do I make him talk?”
“You're going to have to buy him off; it's the only way to get his attention. If that fails, follow him and see what he's up to. If I know Gulum-Ei, he's in way over his head and you'll be able to use it as leverage.”
“Betrayal or not, I’ll let him live. I don’t exactly feel like pissing Mercer off.”
“I'm glad to see you're embracing our methods. It would be a waste to lose a contact at the East Empire Company before we had the entire story. Just keep on Gulum-Ei's tail and he's bound to step into something he can't scrape off his boot.”
“If I get information from Gulum-Ei, what then?”
“Just head right back to the Guild and get the information to Mercer. Nothing else is more important. If you discover Gulum-Ei's holding out on us and has more loot stashed away than he claims, we'd find that information quite valuable as well.”
“How is Gulum-Ei an asset to the Guild?”
“Gulum-Ei works in the East Empire Company Warehouse. He helps maintain all of the shipments of goods that goes in and out of Solitude. That means he has the pick of the litter from some of the finest goods to grace Skyrim's shores. He isn't exactly in the Guild, but he pays us a cut of all the stuff he lifts from the warehouse.”
“And you think he’ll give me trouble?”
Brynjolf nods sagely. “There are thieves and then there is Gulum-Ei. No honor, no code at all. He'd shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time. The cut he's supposed to provide the Guild has dwindled as of late. He says pickings in the Warehouse are slim, but I'm certain he's lying. Keep your eyes on him, he's quite crafty.”
“And what about the East Empire Company? How are they involved?”
“A mercantile group that has established ports all over Tamriel. They pretty much dominate the whole shipping industry. The Emperor himself supposedly backs them, which means they have fairly unlimited resources... so don't get their feathers in a ruffle. Good luck out there, though. Keep him alive, but remind him who we are.” He gives her that stern look she had grown used to from when she first joined the guild, but just as quickly it fades to a smile. “Still, that’s for tomorrow. Tonight, we drink and sing merrily! Surely you’ve learned a new song for us.”
“I don’t know about new, per se, but I do have a couple songs I’ve been working on.”
He leans into her, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Well then, lass, play something for us already then? Don’t leave us in suspense.”
She rolls her eyes and smiles as she shakes her head at him. Getting up, she picks up the lute from the shelf she leaves it on and finds a spot in the middle of the tavern to begin plucking the strings. She starts with a tap of her foot, and then the plucking of strings follows. An upbeat tune that causes everyone to start tapping their own feet fills the air. As she plays she smiles, letting all the professionalism, the burdens, and the stress fade away. All that existed was herself and the music. She dances around the room, pulling people out of their chairs, inviting them to dance as well. Eventually the whole room is dancing and drinking, laughing and smiling. As per usual, Brynjolf remains quiet, watching the festivities with a smile. These types of events could go on for a couple hours, until everyone was tired and passed out, or just black out drunk. Andie and Brynjolf would be the only ones left standing, looking over everyone else. On this particular night, Andie took her seat at the bar back, looking over at Brynjolf.
“Thank you.”
“For what, lass?”
“For, this. All of this.” She smiles as she motions around to the whole tavern. “Maybe it’s not quite what I wanted out of life, but just this alone makes it all worth it.”
He stares at her for a moment and then out at the other members of the guild sleeping at their tables or on the floor. “We should be thanking you. None of this was possible before you.”
She looks back at him and shakes her head. “I don’t believe that. I just think you’d all given up.”
He’s quiet, staring at her for a moment before looking away. “Well, in any case, thank you, lass.”
“You’re more than welcome.” She continues to smile as she drinks her ale.
Moments of silence pass before he speaks again.
“I do have one confession for you.”
“Oh?” She turns her attention back to him.
He nods slightly while looking at the ground. “I knew who you were when you arrived in town.”
She stares at him, brow slowly furrowing as the confusion sets in. “I don’t understand.”
“Your grandfather, whoever he was, sent a letter ahead of you. Askin’ the guild to set up Honeyside for his relative’s arrival. Told us to take care of them. Keep an eye out for them.”
Her brow furrows further. No questions are asked, but they’re written all over her face.
“According to Mercer, he was the Guild Master before Gallus, who was Guild Master before he was. I was tasked with fixing up the house before you arrived. We didn’t realize it was because, well... I’m sorry, lass. We thought you knew, and when we realized you didn’t, we weren’t sure when to tell you. Let alone how to tell you.”
She turns her gaze from him slowly towards the rest of the guild members. Her mind races over the various stories her grandfather told her, of everything Brynjolf had said to her, about when she told them why she was in Riften. Absentmindedly, one of her hands lifts to her face, partly covering it before it runs through her hair.
“I understand if you’re upset with us, lass. None of us would blame you.”
When she does speak, it’s quiet, barely above a whisper. “No, no. You didn’t know. I just… why didn’t he tell me?”
“He must have had his reasons, or perhaps he died before he could.”
She’s quiet for another moment before shaking her head and looking back at Brynjolf with a melancholic smile. “Well, in the end, he must have wanted me to meet all of you. I was so alone before all this, and you brought me into your family. Thank you.”
She leans forward and wraps her arms around Brynjolf in a hug that takes him somewhat off-guard. Gingerly he pats her back, but when he realizes she’s not letting go yet he envelops her in his own arms and squeezes tightly. He holds her for a few moments before feeling her arms grow weak around him. Pushing her off him slightly, he sees that she’s passed out from all the exhaustion and emotion. There’s a tender smile as he gently lifts her and brings her away from the tavern and towards the cistern, where he sets her in her bed, pulling the blanket up around her, and then heads back to the Ragged Flagon to check in on everyone else…
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cumbriacrack · 6 years ago
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Multi-award winning Talisk announce Kendal show as part of biggest UK headline tour to date Scottish firebrands Talisk have announced they will play Kendal as part of a run of 19 headline shows this November. The band are set to bring their explosively energetic live show to Brewery Arts Centre Full story: https://www.cumbriacrack.com/2019/07/09/multi-award-winning-talisk-announce-kendal-show-as-part-of-biggest-uk-headline-tour-to-date/
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doomedandstoned · 6 years ago
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SUCK: The Untold Story of South Africa’s Pioneering Heavy Metal Band
~By Tim Harbour~
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Steve Gilroy was raised in Liverpool and educated in London. Gil was the firebrand guitarist of the Johannesburg band SUCK between late-1970 and early-1971. This iconic heavy metal band started up in the same year Black Sabbath released their seminal album Paranoid and rose quickly to fame, then suddenly disappeared -- all within the span of a single year. But, what a year it was!
Suck changed the face of South African music. The outrageous antics of the band won them notoriety throughout the land. They chopped up pianos, set fire to stages, used colourful language on stage, and smashed up everything and anything around them. They were wild and they were banned from playing in every South African city and major town. They were evicted from what was then known as Rhodesia and escorted to the border by the police. Their only album, ‘Time to Suck’ (1970), recorded in less than a dozen hours at EMI Studios in Joburg, was banned from the South African Broadcasting Company and shunned by many radio stations. Every newspaper carried stories about their wiles, however, for if there was one thing that Suck made sure of, it was that they were being sufficiently noticed.
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Suck specialized in an infectious style of acid-soaked hard rock and proto-metal, brought to life its four original members:
Andrew "Andy" Ioannides (vocals, flute)
Stephen "Gil" Gilroy (guitar)
Louis "Moose" Forer (bass)
Savario "Savvy" Grande (drums)
Now, nearly fifty years later, Suck are finally being recognised for their music and the one vinyl album to their name is currently being sold for about R 18,000 (approximately $1,279 USD). The album was pirated in Europe and Japan with a purple record sleeve and many of these still exist. Not until 2009 was it officially released in the United States, two years after Suck's mention in the Classic Rock article, 'The Lost Pioneers of Heavy Metal.'
This is their story as best remembered by Gil, whose recollections are being shared for the very first time in the pages of Doomed & Stoned.
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Two Rabbits Runnin' In A Ditch
"I came to South Africa in April 1970 by invitation of the South African Government as a mechanical engineer. The day I landed, I phoned Eddie Eckstein who was the drummer with the Bats. I met Eddie in England when the Bats were touring there and we played on the same gig. We drank a few beers together and he said, 'Wow, man, you’ve got to come to South Africa. It's great!' When I called him he said, 'Shit, you’re really here. Did you bring your guitar? Let’s go jamming!'
The 1974 Publications Control Act was written for me the bastards.
"That night he took me to some of the big clubs in Joburg: Club Tomorrow, the Black Out, Ciros, and The Underground. I jammed with the top bands, drank a lot of beer, and had fun. I remember Eddie grabbing a bass guitar -- a brand new Fender -- off a bass player and performing an incredible head-first roll across the stage. The bass player nearly passed out! It was a night to remember, but how it finished I have no recollection.
"About a week later, when the word had spread one of the bands introduced me to ‘Moose’ Forer. He was a really good, aggressive bass player. We had a few beers together and went to jam with a band. We clicked and blew that club away. Clive Calder and Ralph Simon had just started Sagittarius Promotions. They had heard about Moose and I and they saw an opportunity to do something big."
Season of the Witch
"Savvy (Savario Pasquale Maria Grande) came up from Cape Town and we played together. Shit! What a drummer. We were blown away! Every number we played was a perfectly timed drum solo from start to finish. Savvy was like Keith Moon of The Who, but Savvy was far better. He was a big part of Suck’s big sound. We had the musos, now we needed a vocalist, a real screamer. Andy Ionidies was a real screamer! Now we had a band.
"Before we even started to play together, Clive Calder organised a record deal. We had just three weeks to get material together for an album. There was no time to write new material so we listened to music we liked and gave it the Suck treatment. Moose and I did write ‘The Whip’ during a lunch break and that was the only original number. When we played it live, I had a cat o’ nine tails and whipped Andy while he was singing. The audience went into spasm!
"We recorded the entire album and a few extras in nine hours. Four hours on one late afternoon and five hours the following morning. That was it, most of the album was recorded in one take and then onto the next song. Everything was on a budget – that’s how we did it in those days. None of this 'We’ve spent six months in the studio' bullshit."
C'mon and Save Me
"It was the same story with the poster shoot. We had a photographer booked for three hours one afternoon. We were taken to an old, falling apart house with an upstairs fireplace jutting out of a half-demolished wall. Rick Alexander, the photographer, said, 'That would make a great shot. Can you get up there?' I went up to see if it was safe and the floor collapsed! I fell through the floor, hit the ground floor, went through that and ended up in the cellar. Moose dug me out of the rubble. We did the shoot, blood running down my chest, my carefully combed hair a disaster and Andy holding me up. In those days you just did it.
I fell through the floor, hit the ground floor, went through that and ended up in the cellar. Moose dug me out of the rubble.
"The band took me to Joburg General Hospital and a very Afrikaans matron took one look and told me to come back if I started coughing blood. I said, 'If I start coughing blood I’ll be dying.' She casually looked over her shoulder and sneered, 'Well, you had better hurry then.' The guys took me back to the flat, leaned me against the wall, knocked on the door and ran like hell. Lin put me in a bath full of Dettol and started cleaning wounds. It was a big job and involved a lot of alcohol one way or another."
Hear Me Talkin' Baby
"Suck never really gigged, we went straight into playing packed stadiums and theatres. There was a huge amount of hype around Suck, but the band was plenty good enough to pull it off. Moose and I perfected the art of smoking huge amounts of grass, drinking insane amounts of beer and throwing up out of lots of windows and all whilst playing never-ending chess games.
"Travelling around was hell. Clive found an old Volkswagen panel van that the Singer Sewing Machine company had put out to pasture. Three guys in the front, and two Marshall stacks, a PA system, a drum kit, and one guy squeezing in between the equipment and the roof. We kept the Singer signs on the van because it was much safer than Suck. South Africa was by most standards a very conservative country and Suck came as a bit of a shock to most. There were quite a few confrontations -- a typical example was Pietersburg.
About 40 or 50 guys popped into town to inform us that they had come to f*ck us up.
"I think there was an Air Force base there and, while we were unloading the van at the hall, about 40 or 50 guys popped into town to inform us that they had come to ‘f*ck us up.’ We got used to this and the usual procedure was to face them off. My weapon of choice was a heavy claw hammer. Moose had an insane f*ck off sized Bowie knife, Andy had a mike stand with a cast iron base, and Savvy would get hold of anything handy. On this occasion it was a fire axe. We would just stand in a line our backs to a wall, cracking jokes between ourselves, and looking tough. It was obvious that our opponents would suffer casualties and sooner or later our aggressors would chicken out and walk away shouting, 'Fok jou.' It worked every time, I’m delighted to say"
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So Many People I Can Be
"The road was hard and shows were always a long way apart. Sagittarius gave us an allowance of R1.00 per day. That was it! We played to big crowds. I seem to remember at Kingsmead Stadium we pulled about 12,000 people, and we lived on R1 per day. It was enough for Viennas, chips, and a slice of bread. We lived on that.
"Clive Calder learned a lot from Suck. We were his first big band and he went on to the USA to produce some of the world’s biggest bands. Suck was promised an American tour, money and more albums, when suddenly nothing happened! We got to the top in South Africa and there was nothing there. It wasn’t going anywhere. I lost interest in music and went back to engineering for a while.
"I started Mame Enterprises -- South Africa’s first nudie photo company. All tastefully presented as an aide to budding artists, complete with drawing instructions. We were banned (I was used to getting banned) and we took the case to the Rand Supreme Court and won. So, the government changed the law and, about a year later, a court case in Pretoria resulted in being banned again, this time for all future publications. The 1974 Publications Control Act was written for me, the bastards.
"Later, I started a small printing company that developed into a pharmaceutical printing business and then I decided to follow my passion: beer! In late 2008 Gilroy’s Brewery, Restaurant and Pub opened in Muldersdrift where my band plays Jazz and Blues on most Friday afternoons.
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"Sadly, Andy passed away from a gun accident and Moose was taken by cancer. I’ve heard that Savvy is building racing cars in the Cape and I’m at Gilroy’s having a great time. In the old days Moose and I would play for beer -- it seems that I’m still doing that but this time it’s Gilroy Beer!
"It was tough but I’m really glad that I did it. That feeling of being on stage playing with top-end musicians to a raving crowd -- there is no feeling quite like it."
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cornish-beers · 6 years ago
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6. Firebrand. Ales of Scilly. 04/08/14.
ABV 4.2%
5.0/10
This was purchased on Scilly and is one of a number of beers they brew. I had the bottled which was drunk at home later, but they do also have it on draught.
They say: A pale summer quaffing ale. Named after one of the English Fleet sunk off the Isles of Scilly in the winter of 1707. This disaster prompted the Admiralty to accurately measure longitude. This beer was created and bottled by Ales of Scilly Brewery. For maximum enjoyment you and the beer should be slightly chilled.
I say: Disappointingly weak flavour. Nice to try for the uniqueness of the brewery, otherwise not really worth searching out.
www: https://sites.google.com/site/alesofscilly/the-beers/firebrand
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adambstingus · 7 years ago
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Whats Worse For Your BrainDrinking or Playing Football?
Our correspondent drinks for a living. Is he putting his brain at more risk of damage than a football player?
I woke up Sunday morning with a throbbing headache. Id spent the previous night heavily sampling a selection of rare whiskeys with some friends.
That may have been fun, but now here I was, still in bed at 11 a.m., barely able to keep my eyes open, hardly able to think, certainly not wanting to turn on the days NFL games.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
And I thought this cannot be good for my brain.
The effect of NFL action on the brain is one of the hottest topics of the moment, with the movie Concussion opening this Christmas weekend.
In that film Will Smith portrays Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist who first brought to light the appearance of CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) in American football players.
Thanks partially to Omalus work, nowadays when we watch the constant brutality on the football field, when we see players crashing their heads into each other down after down, when we notice aging players getting dementia (and worse) once retired, many of us have even started to wonder, Can I ethically enjoy football any more? Myself included.
At the same time, though, I often put my own brain in serious jeopardy too.
Yes, I am a professional drinks writer. Mid-day cocktail tastings. Evening scotch samplings. Beer festivals on the weekends. Trips to breweries, distilleries, and wineries. You should see how much free liquor gets delivered to my house on a daily basis!
People often tell me I must have one of the best jobs around. But they arent the ones that have had to drink literally every single day for hell, who knows how many days in a row it has been now. They arent the ones that wake up many mornings with a hangoverjust another occupational hazard.
So, with all this in mind, I decided to ask some football concussion doctors about the effects of my equally dangerous profession on my own precious brain. I wondered, how bad is my drinking compared to playing football?
Was a single whiskey shot equal to a QB sack?
A night of heavy beer drinking equal to a half of football?
Did my brutal Sunday morning hangover feel worse than it did on a Monday morning for a running back?
Neither Dr. Omalunor Will Smithreturned any of my calls, but luckily I had other accomplished doctors willing to answer my questions.
Dr. William Barr is the Director of Neuropsychology at NYU Langone Medical Center.
He is a clinical expert on epilepsy, forensic neuropsychology, and sports concussions. He has testified in numerous cases involving forensics and in civil cases involving MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury). More importantly, from the mid-1990s until 2004, Barr was a neuropsychological medical consultant for the NFLs New York Jets.
He quickly understood the somewhat silly concept behind this piece, and even why a professional drinks writer had reason to be concerned.
I used to think about boxers, he told me, noting that this was before all this concussion talk was in the mainstream. People used to say boxing was the only way for a kid to get out of the ghettobut he had to put his brain at risk. How terrible it was that society forced them to do this! But I also thought about the typical Mad Men-era businessmen. They had to do the three-martini lunches for their workthey too were pickling their brains just to get ahead!
Barr is a bit of a firebrand when it comes to talk about concussions. In fact, he believes concussionswhether from football or otherwiseactually have a fairly minimal impact on future cognitive functioning.
When you look at the studies and what happens three months after a concussiondo you know what meta-analysis is? he asks. I dont. He explains that, In science, rather than making conclusions based on a single study, you look at all the literature. Put it into a similar metric. Whats the overall effect based on many, many studies? So now, maybe, youre looking at 300 people over 10 studies. What it shows is the overall effect (on your brain) of a concussion after 30 days is lower than the effects of intoxication.
The study Barr is citing is Grant L. Iversons 2005 paper Outcome from Mild Traumatic Brain Injury.
Iverson didnt study alcohols traumatic effect on the brain per se, but he did find chronic cannabis use to be worse on overall neuropsychological functioning than an MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury) was on a person just one to three months after the injury had occurred. Likewise, he found chronic cannabis use to be slightly worse on future memory functioning than an MTBI.
For Barr, that was enough for him to deduce for me that alcohol abuse would be probably likewise worse on the brain than head injuries from playing football. Uh oh.
Barr isnt completely speculating, as he has co-authored his own significant studies. With a team of other doctors and PhDs he helped pen Cumulative Effects Associated with Recurrent Concussion in Collegiate Football Players and Acute Effects and Recovery Time Following Concussion in Collegiate Football Players.
Ive studied athletes more than the general population. With them we can get information before their injury and then after, he tells me. And what that shows is that 95 percent (of athletes who have a concussion) recover back to normal in 7 days or less.
He tests alcoholics brains in a similar manner to how he tests concussed athletes. He interviews them and then gives them a series of tests, ones mainly based on memory functioning (they have to remember a certain story).
So I might notice, this person has problems with attention and remembering things. In the past theyve been a 10-drinks-a-day alcoholic and now it looks like theyve pickled brain.
Though well-honored and quite thorough, you can probably see how Barr is considered a bit of a contrarian for his thinking on concussions.
Barr was even dismissed from the NFLs MTBI committee in 2004 by then-chairman Elliot Pellman, another former New York Jets team physician who is not without his own controversy.
I wanted another doctors opinion on my potentially pickling brain. Dr. James Paci, a professor and orthopedic surgeon, specializes in sports medicine at Stony Brook University Medicine. Hes also the football teams doctor.
First, he clarified that he was neither a neurologist nor brain physician. Despite that, he was trained to deal with concussions on a day-in, day-out basis in his own role as team doctor.
My expertise is how do we treat these athletes, Paci told me. What do we look out for? How do we prevent long term consequences?
However, unlike Barr, Paci somewhat struggled with the comparisons I was hoping he would draw for me.
Certainly there is some connection between alcoholism and Alzheimers, brain diseases. Drawing a parallel between drinking and football though? I dont think anyone has made that correlation. Though he does note, The rock n roll lifestyle and athlete lifestyle certainly do have some comparisons.
A man like Paci believes that both football and drinking are inherently dangerous, but thats OK, so long as we acknowledge the risk involved in both activities and, thus, let potential participants make informed decisions.
Ive had concussions before, Paci tells me. Anyone who plays sports has had one before.
Paci is about my age, having played football at Yale University in the late-1990s, while the slightly-older Barr played during a time head injuries werent treated all that seriously.
Back in the day when I played high school football, Barr tells me, you pretty much had to be in a coma before they did anything about it.
So both men had played football at a fairly high level, had head injuries on the field, and were still able to become prestigious doctors. But did they drink?
Not routinely, but I do, Paci tells me. Most doctors do. There are certainly benefits to some alcohol.
(Ive been saying that for years.)
I do, Barr also tells me. Everything in moderation. A little bit of alcohol can be good for the heart. Theres good data for the red wines. Some scotch in moderation, a finger a day maybe.
So you guys drink, but now knowing what you know, would you let your own children play football?
On that point Paci is fairly strict, believing young children simply dont have the body control and should stick to flag football or two-hand touch.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
Barr has a six-month grandson he absolutely wants to play football some day.
Should that boy play football or not? My take, from what we know right now: the chance of getting dementia, the prospect of a 13-year-old boy who starts football getting dementia one day is, lets say, 1 to 2 percent. Im being liberal, Barr tells me. But lets say that boy is not allowed to play football. Instead junior becomes fat and gets diabetes and high blood pressure. Now he has a 30 percent chance of dying of dementia.
So to Barr inactivity in this country is a much bigger problem than helmet-to-helmet contactinteresting, because drinkers on the whole are statistically much more active than non-drinkers according to the Center for Advancing Health.
That papers lead author, Michael French, a professor of health economics at the University of Miami, found that alcohol users not only exercised more than teetotalers, but the differential actually increased with more drinking.
I dont fully understand the relationship, Barr admits, though he has a speculation. Maybe people feel like after visiting the gym, they deserve to do something bad.
Its true enough anecdotally for myself, though Im a bit more of the reverse. I do something bad the night before, then feel the need to go jog five miles the next day.
I ask Barr point-blank, It seems like you ultimately think its safer to play in the NFL than to drink heavily?
Yeah, you could say that, he confirms.
This did not sound good for me. But what exactly did heavily mean? This week alone I sampled new whiskeys on Monday, drank wine with dinner on Tuesday, visited a hot new cocktail bar on Wednesday, went to a brewery opening on Thursday, and hit happy hour with friends on Friday.
Luckily, Barr relieved some of my concerns about any sort of future with dementia, simply telling me, You would not be on the phone with me, or even able to write this story, if you were drinking too much.
Regardless, I think Ill start trying to be more cognizant of my intake. As Paci ultimately summed up for me: The brain is an amazing thing. Your head hurts when you bang it. So you try not to bang your head again. With a hangover, theres obviously something similar going on there.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/28/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or-playing-football/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/165813833432
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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago
Text
Whats Worse For Your BrainDrinking or Playing Football?
Our correspondent drinks for a living. Is he putting his brain at more risk of damage than a football player?
I woke up Sunday morning with a throbbing headache. Id spent the previous night heavily sampling a selection of rare whiskeys with some friends.
That may have been fun, but now here I was, still in bed at 11 a.m., barely able to keep my eyes open, hardly able to think, certainly not wanting to turn on the days NFL games.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
And I thought this cannot be good for my brain.
The effect of NFL action on the brain is one of the hottest topics of the moment, with the movie Concussion opening this Christmas weekend.
In that film Will Smith portrays Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist who first brought to light the appearance of CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) in American football players.
Thanks partially to Omalus work, nowadays when we watch the constant brutality on the football field, when we see players crashing their heads into each other down after down, when we notice aging players getting dementia (and worse) once retired, many of us have even started to wonder, Can I ethically enjoy football any more? Myself included.
At the same time, though, I often put my own brain in serious jeopardy too.
Yes, I am a professional drinks writer. Mid-day cocktail tastings. Evening scotch samplings. Beer festivals on the weekends. Trips to breweries, distilleries, and wineries. You should see how much free liquor gets delivered to my house on a daily basis!
People often tell me I must have one of the best jobs around. But they arent the ones that have had to drink literally every single day for hell, who knows how many days in a row it has been now. They arent the ones that wake up many mornings with a hangoverjust another occupational hazard.
So, with all this in mind, I decided to ask some football concussion doctors about the effects of my equally dangerous profession on my own precious brain. I wondered, how bad is my drinking compared to playing football?
Was a single whiskey shot equal to a QB sack?
A night of heavy beer drinking equal to a half of football?
Did my brutal Sunday morning hangover feel worse than it did on a Monday morning for a running back?
Neither Dr. Omalunor Will Smithreturned any of my calls, but luckily I had other accomplished doctors willing to answer my questions.
Dr. William Barr is the Director of Neuropsychology at NYU Langone Medical Center.
He is a clinical expert on epilepsy, forensic neuropsychology, and sports concussions. He has testified in numerous cases involving forensics and in civil cases involving MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury). More importantly, from the mid-1990s until 2004, Barr was a neuropsychological medical consultant for the NFLs New York Jets.
He quickly understood the somewhat silly concept behind this piece, and even why a professional drinks writer had reason to be concerned.
I used to think about boxers, he told me, noting that this was before all this concussion talk was in the mainstream. People used to say boxing was the only way for a kid to get out of the ghettobut he had to put his brain at risk. How terrible it was that society forced them to do this! But I also thought about the typical Mad Men-era businessmen. They had to do the three-martini lunches for their workthey too were pickling their brains just to get ahead!
Barr is a bit of a firebrand when it comes to talk about concussions. In fact, he believes concussionswhether from football or otherwiseactually have a fairly minimal impact on future cognitive functioning.
When you look at the studies and what happens three months after a concussiondo you know what meta-analysis is? he asks. I dont. He explains that, In science, rather than making conclusions based on a single study, you look at all the literature. Put it into a similar metric. Whats the overall effect based on many, many studies? So now, maybe, youre looking at 300 people over 10 studies. What it shows is the overall effect (on your brain) of a concussion after 30 days is lower than the effects of intoxication.
The study Barr is citing is Grant L. Iversons 2005 paper Outcome from Mild Traumatic Brain Injury.
Iverson didnt study alcohols traumatic effect on the brain per se, but he did find chronic cannabis use to be worse on overall neuropsychological functioning than an MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury) was on a person just one to three months after the injury had occurred. Likewise, he found chronic cannabis use to be slightly worse on future memory functioning than an MTBI.
For Barr, that was enough for him to deduce for me that alcohol abuse would be probably likewise worse on the brain than head injuries from playing football. Uh oh.
Barr isnt completely speculating, as he has co-authored his own significant studies. With a team of other doctors and PhDs he helped pen Cumulative Effects Associated with Recurrent Concussion in Collegiate Football Players and Acute Effects and Recovery Time Following Concussion in Collegiate Football Players.
Ive studied athletes more than the general population. With them we can get information before their injury and then after, he tells me. And what that shows is that 95 percent (of athletes who have a concussion) recover back to normal in 7 days or less.
He tests alcoholics brains in a similar manner to how he tests concussed athletes. He interviews them and then gives them a series of tests, ones mainly based on memory functioning (they have to remember a certain story).
So I might notice, this person has problems with attention and remembering things. In the past theyve been a 10-drinks-a-day alcoholic and now it looks like theyve pickled brain.
Though well-honored and quite thorough, you can probably see how Barr is considered a bit of a contrarian for his thinking on concussions.
Barr was even dismissed from the NFLs MTBI committee in 2004 by then-chairman Elliot Pellman, another former New York Jets team physician who is not without his own controversy.
I wanted another doctors opinion on my potentially pickling brain. Dr. James Paci, a professor and orthopedic surgeon, specializes in sports medicine at Stony Brook University Medicine. Hes also the football teams doctor.
First, he clarified that he was neither a neurologist nor brain physician. Despite that, he was trained to deal with concussions on a day-in, day-out basis in his own role as team doctor.
My expertise is how do we treat these athletes, Paci told me. What do we look out for? How do we prevent long term consequences?
However, unlike Barr, Paci somewhat struggled with the comparisons I was hoping he would draw for me.
Certainly there is some connection between alcoholism and Alzheimers, brain diseases. Drawing a parallel between drinking and football though? I dont think anyone has made that correlation. Though he does note, The rock n roll lifestyle and athlete lifestyle certainly do have some comparisons.
A man like Paci believes that both football and drinking are inherently dangerous, but thats OK, so long as we acknowledge the risk involved in both activities and, thus, let potential participants make informed decisions.
Ive had concussions before, Paci tells me. Anyone who plays sports has had one before.
Paci is about my age, having played football at Yale University in the late-1990s, while the slightly-older Barr played during a time head injuries werent treated all that seriously.
Back in the day when I played high school football, Barr tells me, you pretty much had to be in a coma before they did anything about it.
So both men had played football at a fairly high level, had head injuries on the field, and were still able to become prestigious doctors. But did they drink?
Not routinely, but I do, Paci tells me. Most doctors do. There are certainly benefits to some alcohol.
(Ive been saying that for years.)
I do, Barr also tells me. Everything in moderation. A little bit of alcohol can be good for the heart. Theres good data for the red wines. Some scotch in moderation, a finger a day maybe.
So you guys drink, but now knowing what you know, would you let your own children play football?
On that point Paci is fairly strict, believing young children simply dont have the body control and should stick to flag football or two-hand touch.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
Barr has a six-month grandson he absolutely wants to play football some day.
Should that boy play football or not? My take, from what we know right now: the chance of getting dementia, the prospect of a 13-year-old boy who starts football getting dementia one day is, lets say, 1 to 2 percent. Im being liberal, Barr tells me. But lets say that boy is not allowed to play football. Instead junior becomes fat and gets diabetes and high blood pressure. Now he has a 30 percent chance of dying of dementia.
So to Barr inactivity in this country is a much bigger problem than helmet-to-helmet contactinteresting, because drinkers on the whole are statistically much more active than non-drinkers according to the Center for Advancing Health.
That papers lead author, Michael French, a professor of health economics at the University of Miami, found that alcohol users not only exercised more than teetotalers, but the differential actually increased with more drinking.
I dont fully understand the relationship, Barr admits, though he has a speculation. Maybe people feel like after visiting the gym, they deserve to do something bad.
Its true enough anecdotally for myself, though Im a bit more of the reverse. I do something bad the night before, then feel the need to go jog five miles the next day.
I ask Barr point-blank, It seems like you ultimately think its safer to play in the NFL than to drink heavily?
Yeah, you could say that, he confirms.
This did not sound good for me. But what exactly did heavily mean? This week alone I sampled new whiskeys on Monday, drank wine with dinner on Tuesday, visited a hot new cocktail bar on Wednesday, went to a brewery opening on Thursday, and hit happy hour with friends on Friday.
Luckily, Barr relieved some of my concerns about any sort of future with dementia, simply telling me, You would not be on the phone with me, or even able to write this story, if you were drinking too much.
Regardless, I think Ill start trying to be more cognizant of my intake. As Paci ultimately summed up for me: The brain is an amazing thing. Your head hurts when you bang it. So you try not to bang your head again. With a hangover, theres obviously something similar going on there.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/28/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or-playing-football/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/28/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or-playing-football/
0 notes
jimdsmith34 · 7 years ago
Text
Whats Worse For Your BrainDrinking or Playing Football?
Our correspondent drinks for a living. Is he putting his brain at more risk of damage than a football player?
I woke up Sunday morning with a throbbing headache. Id spent the previous night heavily sampling a selection of rare whiskeys with some friends.
That may have been fun, but now here I was, still in bed at 11 a.m., barely able to keep my eyes open, hardly able to think, certainly not wanting to turn on the days NFL games.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
And I thought this cannot be good for my brain.
The effect of NFL action on the brain is one of the hottest topics of the moment, with the movie Concussion opening this Christmas weekend.
In that film Will Smith portrays Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist who first brought to light the appearance of CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) in American football players.
Thanks partially to Omalus work, nowadays when we watch the constant brutality on the football field, when we see players crashing their heads into each other down after down, when we notice aging players getting dementia (and worse) once retired, many of us have even started to wonder, Can I ethically enjoy football any more? Myself included.
At the same time, though, I often put my own brain in serious jeopardy too.
Yes, I am a professional drinks writer. Mid-day cocktail tastings. Evening scotch samplings. Beer festivals on the weekends. Trips to breweries, distilleries, and wineries. You should see how much free liquor gets delivered to my house on a daily basis!
People often tell me I must have one of the best jobs around. But they arent the ones that have had to drink literally every single day for hell, who knows how many days in a row it has been now. They arent the ones that wake up many mornings with a hangoverjust another occupational hazard.
So, with all this in mind, I decided to ask some football concussion doctors about the effects of my equally dangerous profession on my own precious brain. I wondered, how bad is my drinking compared to playing football?
Was a single whiskey shot equal to a QB sack?
A night of heavy beer drinking equal to a half of football?
Did my brutal Sunday morning hangover feel worse than it did on a Monday morning for a running back?
Neither Dr. Omalunor Will Smithreturned any of my calls, but luckily I had other accomplished doctors willing to answer my questions.
Dr. William Barr is the Director of Neuropsychology at NYU Langone Medical Center.
He is a clinical expert on epilepsy, forensic neuropsychology, and sports concussions. He has testified in numerous cases involving forensics and in civil cases involving MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury). More importantly, from the mid-1990s until 2004, Barr was a neuropsychological medical consultant for the NFLs New York Jets.
He quickly understood the somewhat silly concept behind this piece, and even why a professional drinks writer had reason to be concerned.
I used to think about boxers, he told me, noting that this was before all this concussion talk was in the mainstream. People used to say boxing was the only way for a kid to get out of the ghettobut he had to put his brain at risk. How terrible it was that society forced them to do this! But I also thought about the typical Mad Men-era businessmen. They had to do the three-martini lunches for their workthey too were pickling their brains just to get ahead!
Barr is a bit of a firebrand when it comes to talk about concussions. In fact, he believes concussionswhether from football or otherwiseactually have a fairly minimal impact on future cognitive functioning.
When you look at the studies and what happens three months after a concussiondo you know what meta-analysis is? he asks. I dont. He explains that, In science, rather than making conclusions based on a single study, you look at all the literature. Put it into a similar metric. Whats the overall effect based on many, many studies? So now, maybe, youre looking at 300 people over 10 studies. What it shows is the overall effect (on your brain) of a concussion after 30 days is lower than the effects of intoxication.
The study Barr is citing is Grant L. Iversons 2005 paper Outcome from Mild Traumatic Brain Injury.
Iverson didnt study alcohols traumatic effect on the brain per se, but he did find chronic cannabis use to be worse on overall neuropsychological functioning than an MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury) was on a person just one to three months after the injury had occurred. Likewise, he found chronic cannabis use to be slightly worse on future memory functioning than an MTBI.
For Barr, that was enough for him to deduce for me that alcohol abuse would be probably likewise worse on the brain than head injuries from playing football. Uh oh.
Barr isnt completely speculating, as he has co-authored his own significant studies. With a team of other doctors and PhDs he helped pen Cumulative Effects Associated with Recurrent Concussion in Collegiate Football Players and Acute Effects and Recovery Time Following Concussion in Collegiate Football Players.
Ive studied athletes more than the general population. With them we can get information before their injury and then after, he tells me. And what that shows is that 95 percent (of athletes who have a concussion) recover back to normal in 7 days or less.
He tests alcoholics brains in a similar manner to how he tests concussed athletes. He interviews them and then gives them a series of tests, ones mainly based on memory functioning (they have to remember a certain story).
So I might notice, this person has problems with attention and remembering things. In the past theyve been a 10-drinks-a-day alcoholic and now it looks like theyve pickled brain.
Though well-honored and quite thorough, you can probably see how Barr is considered a bit of a contrarian for his thinking on concussions.
Barr was even dismissed from the NFLs MTBI committee in 2004 by then-chairman Elliot Pellman, another former New York Jets team physician who is not without his own controversy.
I wanted another doctors opinion on my potentially pickling brain. Dr. James Paci, a professor and orthopedic surgeon, specializes in sports medicine at Stony Brook University Medicine. Hes also the football teams doctor.
First, he clarified that he was neither a neurologist nor brain physician. Despite that, he was trained to deal with concussions on a day-in, day-out basis in his own role as team doctor.
My expertise is how do we treat these athletes, Paci told me. What do we look out for? How do we prevent long term consequences?
However, unlike Barr, Paci somewhat struggled with the comparisons I was hoping he would draw for me.
Certainly there is some connection between alcoholism and Alzheimers, brain diseases. Drawing a parallel between drinking and football though? I dont think anyone has made that correlation. Though he does note, The rock n roll lifestyle and athlete lifestyle certainly do have some comparisons.
A man like Paci believes that both football and drinking are inherently dangerous, but thats OK, so long as we acknowledge the risk involved in both activities and, thus, let potential participants make informed decisions.
Ive had concussions before, Paci tells me. Anyone who plays sports has had one before.
Paci is about my age, having played football at Yale University in the late-1990s, while the slightly-older Barr played during a time head injuries werent treated all that seriously.
Back in the day when I played high school football, Barr tells me, you pretty much had to be in a coma before they did anything about it.
So both men had played football at a fairly high level, had head injuries on the field, and were still able to become prestigious doctors. But did they drink?
Not routinely, but I do, Paci tells me. Most doctors do. There are certainly benefits to some alcohol.
(Ive been saying that for years.)
I do, Barr also tells me. Everything in moderation. A little bit of alcohol can be good for the heart. Theres good data for the red wines. Some scotch in moderation, a finger a day maybe.
So you guys drink, but now knowing what you know, would you let your own children play football?
On that point Paci is fairly strict, believing young children simply dont have the body control and should stick to flag football or two-hand touch.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
Barr has a six-month grandson he absolutely wants to play football some day.
Should that boy play football or not? My take, from what we know right now: the chance of getting dementia, the prospect of a 13-year-old boy who starts football getting dementia one day is, lets say, 1 to 2 percent. Im being liberal, Barr tells me. But lets say that boy is not allowed to play football. Instead junior becomes fat and gets diabetes and high blood pressure. Now he has a 30 percent chance of dying of dementia.
So to Barr inactivity in this country is a much bigger problem than helmet-to-helmet contactinteresting, because drinkers on the whole are statistically much more active than non-drinkers according to the Center for Advancing Health.
That papers lead author, Michael French, a professor of health economics at the University of Miami, found that alcohol users not only exercised more than teetotalers, but the differential actually increased with more drinking.
I dont fully understand the relationship, Barr admits, though he has a speculation. Maybe people feel like after visiting the gym, they deserve to do something bad.
Its true enough anecdotally for myself, though Im a bit more of the reverse. I do something bad the night before, then feel the need to go jog five miles the next day.
I ask Barr point-blank, It seems like you ultimately think its safer to play in the NFL than to drink heavily?
Yeah, you could say that, he confirms.
This did not sound good for me. But what exactly did heavily mean? This week alone I sampled new whiskeys on Monday, drank wine with dinner on Tuesday, visited a hot new cocktail bar on Wednesday, went to a brewery opening on Thursday, and hit happy hour with friends on Friday.
Luckily, Barr relieved some of my concerns about any sort of future with dementia, simply telling me, You would not be on the phone with me, or even able to write this story, if you were drinking too much.
Regardless, I think Ill start trying to be more cognizant of my intake. As Paci ultimately summed up for me: The brain is an amazing thing. Your head hurts when you bang it. So you try not to bang your head again. With a hangover, theres obviously something similar going on there.
source http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/28/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or-playing-football/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/09/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or.html
0 notes
allofbeercom · 7 years ago
Text
Whats Worse For Your BrainDrinking or Playing Football?
Our correspondent drinks for a living. Is he putting his brain at more risk of damage than a football player?
I woke up Sunday morning with a throbbing headache. Id spent the previous night heavily sampling a selection of rare whiskeys with some friends.
That may have been fun, but now here I was, still in bed at 11 a.m., barely able to keep my eyes open, hardly able to think, certainly not wanting to turn on the days NFL games.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
And I thought this cannot be good for my brain.
The effect of NFL action on the brain is one of the hottest topics of the moment, with the movie Concussion opening this Christmas weekend.
In that film Will Smith portrays Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist who first brought to light the appearance of CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) in American football players.
Thanks partially to Omalus work, nowadays when we watch the constant brutality on the football field, when we see players crashing their heads into each other down after down, when we notice aging players getting dementia (and worse) once retired, many of us have even started to wonder, Can I ethically enjoy football any more? Myself included.
At the same time, though, I often put my own brain in serious jeopardy too.
Yes, I am a professional drinks writer. Mid-day cocktail tastings. Evening scotch samplings. Beer festivals on the weekends. Trips to breweries, distilleries, and wineries. You should see how much free liquor gets delivered to my house on a daily basis!
People often tell me I must have one of the best jobs around. But they arent the ones that have had to drink literally every single day for hell, who knows how many days in a row it has been now. They arent the ones that wake up many mornings with a hangoverjust another occupational hazard.
So, with all this in mind, I decided to ask some football concussion doctors about the effects of my equally dangerous profession on my own precious brain. I wondered, how bad is my drinking compared to playing football?
Was a single whiskey shot equal to a QB sack?
A night of heavy beer drinking equal to a half of football?
Did my brutal Sunday morning hangover feel worse than it did on a Monday morning for a running back?
Neither Dr. Omalunor Will Smithreturned any of my calls, but luckily I had other accomplished doctors willing to answer my questions.
Dr. William Barr is the Director of Neuropsychology at NYU Langone Medical Center.
He is a clinical expert on epilepsy, forensic neuropsychology, and sports concussions. He has testified in numerous cases involving forensics and in civil cases involving MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury). More importantly, from the mid-1990s until 2004, Barr was a neuropsychological medical consultant for the NFLs New York Jets.
He quickly understood the somewhat silly concept behind this piece, and even why a professional drinks writer had reason to be concerned.
I used to think about boxers, he told me, noting that this was before all this concussion talk was in the mainstream. People used to say boxing was the only way for a kid to get out of the ghettobut he had to put his brain at risk. How terrible it was that society forced them to do this! But I also thought about the typical Mad Men-era businessmen. They had to do the three-martini lunches for their workthey too were pickling their brains just to get ahead!
Barr is a bit of a firebrand when it comes to talk about concussions. In fact, he believes concussionswhether from football or otherwiseactually have a fairly minimal impact on future cognitive functioning.
When you look at the studies and what happens three months after a concussiondo you know what meta-analysis is? he asks. I dont. He explains that, In science, rather than making conclusions based on a single study, you look at all the literature. Put it into a similar metric. Whats the overall effect based on many, many studies? So now, maybe, youre looking at 300 people over 10 studies. What it shows is the overall effect (on your brain) of a concussion after 30 days is lower than the effects of intoxication.
The study Barr is citing is Grant L. Iversons 2005 paper Outcome from Mild Traumatic Brain Injury.
Iverson didnt study alcohols traumatic effect on the brain per se, but he did find chronic cannabis use to be worse on overall neuropsychological functioning than an MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury) was on a person just one to three months after the injury had occurred. Likewise, he found chronic cannabis use to be slightly worse on future memory functioning than an MTBI.
For Barr, that was enough for him to deduce for me that alcohol abuse would be probably likewise worse on the brain than head injuries from playing football. Uh oh.
Barr isnt completely speculating, as he has co-authored his own significant studies. With a team of other doctors and PhDs he helped pen Cumulative Effects Associated with Recurrent Concussion in Collegiate Football Players and Acute Effects and Recovery Time Following Concussion in Collegiate Football Players.
Ive studied athletes more than the general population. With them we can get information before their injury and then after, he tells me. And what that shows is that 95 percent (of athletes who have a concussion) recover back to normal in 7 days or less.
He tests alcoholics brains in a similar manner to how he tests concussed athletes. He interviews them and then gives them a series of tests, ones mainly based on memory functioning (they have to remember a certain story).
So I might notice, this person has problems with attention and remembering things. In the past theyve been a 10-drinks-a-day alcoholic and now it looks like theyve pickled brain.
Though well-honored and quite thorough, you can probably see how Barr is considered a bit of a contrarian for his thinking on concussions.
Barr was even dismissed from the NFLs MTBI committee in 2004 by then-chairman Elliot Pellman, another former New York Jets team physician who is not without his own controversy.
I wanted another doctors opinion on my potentially pickling brain. Dr. James Paci, a professor and orthopedic surgeon, specializes in sports medicine at Stony Brook University Medicine. Hes also the football teams doctor.
First, he clarified that he was neither a neurologist nor brain physician. Despite that, he was trained to deal with concussions on a day-in, day-out basis in his own role as team doctor.
My expertise is how do we treat these athletes, Paci told me. What do we look out for? How do we prevent long term consequences?
However, unlike Barr, Paci somewhat struggled with the comparisons I was hoping he would draw for me.
Certainly there is some connection between alcoholism and Alzheimers, brain diseases. Drawing a parallel between drinking and football though? I dont think anyone has made that correlation. Though he does note, The rock n roll lifestyle and athlete lifestyle certainly do have some comparisons.
A man like Paci believes that both football and drinking are inherently dangerous, but thats OK, so long as we acknowledge the risk involved in both activities and, thus, let potential participants make informed decisions.
Ive had concussions before, Paci tells me. Anyone who plays sports has had one before.
Paci is about my age, having played football at Yale University in the late-1990s, while the slightly-older Barr played during a time head injuries werent treated all that seriously.
Back in the day when I played high school football, Barr tells me, you pretty much had to be in a coma before they did anything about it.
So both men had played football at a fairly high level, had head injuries on the field, and were still able to become prestigious doctors. But did they drink?
Not routinely, but I do, Paci tells me. Most doctors do. There are certainly benefits to some alcohol.
(Ive been saying that for years.)
I do, Barr also tells me. Everything in moderation. A little bit of alcohol can be good for the heart. Theres good data for the red wines. Some scotch in moderation, a finger a day maybe.
So you guys drink, but now knowing what you know, would you let your own children play football?
On that point Paci is fairly strict, believing young children simply dont have the body control and should stick to flag football or two-hand touch.
A parent cant consent to giving their kids a cigarette or a beerwhy can they consent to him playing tackle football?
Barr has a six-month grandson he absolutely wants to play football some day.
Should that boy play football or not? My take, from what we know right now: the chance of getting dementia, the prospect of a 13-year-old boy who starts football getting dementia one day is, lets say, 1 to 2 percent. Im being liberal, Barr tells me. But lets say that boy is not allowed to play football. Instead junior becomes fat and gets diabetes and high blood pressure. Now he has a 30 percent chance of dying of dementia.
So to Barr inactivity in this country is a much bigger problem than helmet-to-helmet contactinteresting, because drinkers on the whole are statistically much more active than non-drinkers according to the Center for Advancing Health.
That papers lead author, Michael French, a professor of health economics at the University of Miami, found that alcohol users not only exercised more than teetotalers, but the differential actually increased with more drinking.
I dont fully understand the relationship, Barr admits, though he has a speculation. Maybe people feel like after visiting the gym, they deserve to do something bad.
Its true enough anecdotally for myself, though Im a bit more of the reverse. I do something bad the night before, then feel the need to go jog five miles the next day.
I ask Barr point-blank, It seems like you ultimately think its safer to play in the NFL than to drink heavily?
Yeah, you could say that, he confirms.
This did not sound good for me. But what exactly did heavily mean? This week alone I sampled new whiskeys on Monday, drank wine with dinner on Tuesday, visited a hot new cocktail bar on Wednesday, went to a brewery opening on Thursday, and hit happy hour with friends on Friday.
Luckily, Barr relieved some of my concerns about any sort of future with dementia, simply telling me, You would not be on the phone with me, or even able to write this story, if you were drinking too much.
Regardless, I think Ill start trying to be more cognizant of my intake. As Paci ultimately summed up for me: The brain is an amazing thing. Your head hurts when you bang it. So you try not to bang your head again. With a hangover, theres obviously something similar going on there.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/28/whats-worse-for-your-braindrinking-or-playing-football/
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londontheatre · 8 years ago
Link
Life By The Throat – Eve Steele
It’s a pleasantly warm and sunny evening. I’m having a stroll around the streets near Battersea Bridge and the park – streets vaguely familiar to me from a long-gone childhood of chip shops and giant Palm Toffee ads. I’m feeling good. Then it hits me. Out of the blue. An angry fist straight into the throat. A back-handed slap in the gob, an indiscriminate kick in the shins, a baseball bat rammed into the gut and – the coup de grace – an unforgiving knee buried in the groin. I double up, fall to the ground and through the old Young’s Brewery fuggy daze I see images of that other aspect of my childhood – the Teds with razor blades displayed in their top pocket and fishhooks stitched into their sleeves.
Yes, I’ve been mugged. I didn’t see it coming, I wasn’t prepared – I mean, Battersea’s got gentrified since my day, hasn’t it? Mugged not by one of those Teddy Boy ghosts from the past but mugged by a slip of girl (I use the phrase advisedly, with apologies to the Sexism Police), a firebrand female whom I imagine eats fishhooks for lunch. I’m on the ground – not those well-worn paving slabs of Battersea Park Road but on the floor of a theatre, Theatre 503, upstairs at the Latchmere pub, an old style London pub, thankfully unchanged in configuration since I stood outside waiting to return beer bottles for the deposit.
The mugger is Eve Steele and she is performing her self-penned play Life By The Throat. I never expect anything from a show except the unexpected and this one took me totally unawares. It’s a one-person show, a seventy-minute typhoon-tirade, a poverty-porn-poem delivered with shock-jock ferocity, a full-frontal assault on our senses, our prejudices and our deeply lurking trepidations.
Steele is a one-woman tour de force who plays a babe-kid- boy-teen- youth-lad-dad- man-alco with passion, empathy and understanding. Her creation, James Joseph Patrick Keogh, is a mad-little-brained Hulme Mancunian of Irish extraction and despite being a top athlete at School runs the full gamut of thieving, smoking, drinking, soft drug use, sexual abuse, borstal time, heavy drug use, jail time, drug dependency and alcoholism. Steele gives us every nuance of this beleaguered life, the highs, the lows, the very highs, the rock-bottoms, the drunken rages. She (and again, I use the term advisedly) is James, her every action, her every gesture her every glance, her every aside gives us the complete package of the man she is depicting and it’s very, very convincing. It feels like taking on a kick-boxer, a cage fighter and an MMA exponent all rolled into one: a hard-hitting, no-holds- barred, gut-wrenching relentless diatribe telling the truth about life below the poverty line in this country today.
Yes, the show can be filed under Ken Loach but it’s not overtly political, overtly socialist in its outlook – though socialists may well want to claim it as their own: it’s just overtly Life. And channeling Oscar Wilde – “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” – as part of the repetitive prison sequences adds a literary perspective through which we can view the sordid, tawdry life that Steele is delineating.
Steele’s partner in crimes in this production is director Ed Jones – together they form Most Wanted Theatre Company. Jones demonstrably shares Steele’s empathy for the subject and his direction is subtle yet brash, nuanced yet very much in-yer- face. I’m not going to allow him to escape scot-free from what is blatantly a joint mugging: it’s very much a perpetrator-and-mastermind relationship. Particularly smart is the use of sudden loud music for Keogh to chill/rant/dance/fight to. It’s a clever mix of ska-reggae- club classics and anyone who incorporates the Althea and Donna classic “Uptown Top Ranking” is going to get my vote every time.
The trip south of the river to Theatre 503 is always rewarding – an innovative and stimulating Fringe theatre that rarely disappoints. This is Artistic Director Lisa Spirling’s first season and she has bought into 503’s well-established New Writing pedigree with an eclectic and stimulating collection of shows.
Scheduling Life By The Throat into the mix is an inspired decision though Ms Spirling may need to check her Public Liability Insurance to see what the cover limit is for muggings.
Review by Peter Yates
The remarkable life of Jamie Joseph Patrick Keogh is channelled in this one-woman show inspired by interviews with and acting as a celebration of men who have been involved with drugs, been through the criminal justice system and had to cope with adversity.
Born into poverty and madness, Jamie is a force to be reckoned with. He survives on wit, laughter and ingenious schemes. Whether it’s sprinting on sports day, chasing oblivion or running away from cops, it seems to be only a matter of time for him before a crash comes.
In an age when masculinity is in crisis, this is both a show about it means to be a man from a broken background and what it means to be a woman who has loved a man like that. The show celebrates the ingenuity of the thief and the chancer – the bad boy – but also reaches out to him with love, compassion and understanding, aims to give colourful insight into the lives of those living on the edge in society.
Most Wanted in association with LittleMighty present Life by The Throat Award-winning writer-performer and former Coronation Street star Eve Steele performs one man’s life from birth to death in this gritty, true-to-life performance exploring class, gender and living life on society’s margins
Written and performed by Eve Steele | Directed by Ed Jones UK TOUR: Tuesday 18 April – Saturday 20 May 2017 (further dates to be announced)
Company Written and performed by Eve Steele Produced by LittleMighty Directed by Ed Jones http://ift.tt/2ouAzqs | @MostWantedShows | @littlemightyUK | #LifebyTheThroat Running time: 1 hour approx | Age restriction: 14+
http://ift.tt/2pGgguV LondonTheatre1.com
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perfect-pintuk · 10 years ago
Video
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Brewing a Chocolate Chipotle Stout in :30
Up to Tricks 46 
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perfect-pintuk · 10 years ago
Video
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If you are in London tomorrow night (Thursday the 30th), come on over to Hop Poles in Hammersmith and try out the #BeerBingo winners beer #UptoTricks46
Here are the tasting notes: a smooth velvety, chocolate body with hints of smoke from the Chipotle chillies lending a subtle yet lingering heat to this dark beer.
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perfect-pintuk · 10 years ago
Video
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Joe from Firebrand talks about #UptoTricks46 the new Chocolate Chipotle Stout #BeerBingo beer
Firebrand
Perfect Pint
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