#how did a pop group manage to dress up better than the actual live adaptation is beyond me

[vaselinegurl]

Fate: The Winx Saga watching a pop group do an overall better job at designing than a whole ass production team-

[watchmegetobsessed]

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 1)

well well well, look who’s back with a new sackler fic! i honestly don’t know where this is gonna head, im figuring it out as im writing so im not that ahead of you lmao but i’ve been thinking about this concept for a while now so let’s see how it will turn out!

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

Chapter title: The man

If you had to imagine what a surgeon is feeling right before a super important operation, you’d compare the feeling to the one you always get at auditions without hesitation. The nerves are stretching to the maximum, some can’t even take it, some have odd coping mechanism, the air is thick with tension and rivalry and all eyes are looking for weak points in others. It’s a mixture of feelings that crawls up on your spine every time you wait for your name to be called and find out whether or not you were good enough to make the cut.

This time is no different as you sit in a now emptied out room that was once full of ambitious girls, all of them longing after the exact same thing, a role that would change their lives, but now it’s just the five of you. You see the similarities between yourself and the girls, you are all slim figured and judging from what you’ve seen all of you have some kind of dancer background, especially number three who is eyeing you now with a hard stare, probably deep in her thoughts what would make you better than her while you do the same. You would swear your life she used to be a ballet dancer, it’s radiating from the way she sits and walks, you can just tell it.

It’s way past ten pm and all of you have been here for the whole day, fighting your way through three rounds of audition, each of them testing something different. Singing, dancing and acting, the three compulsory things that need to be perfected if someone wants the role of Giselle, especially since the shoes you’d be putting on with this role are pretty high-end, given the fact that the first and only person to bring life to the character was Amy Adams and she made quite the impression on millions of people all around the world on the big screen when the movie came out.

Looking down at your hands you notice how they are shaking once again and you quickly hide them between your thighs not to show weakness. You can’t let them see how nerve-wrecking this is for you, that’s just not professional, not what you want to project to the world.

Then the door to the auditorium where you had to perform three times today opens and all five of you rise to your feet when the four people who have been judging you all day appear with the piece of paper that contains the results you’ve been waiting all week to know.

“Thank you for your patience, it’s been a very hard decision to make,” Petra, the production assistant speaks up with a warm smile as she looks around. “We wanted to make sure the best person will stand on the stage of Broadway when the curtains open very soon and we were convinced that all of you would be worthy of the role of Giselle.”

You catch a few confused and anxious looks around, and you can almost hear the questions popping up in the minds: so how did they decide?

“But we’ve made a decision, and we would like to thank to everyone for the hard work you put into today.”

Your heart is up in your throat, each beat feels like it pushes the top of your head as you stare at the paper, visioning your name written on it as the chosen one. Petra exchanges a knowing look with the three men, the choreographer Matt, the director Trevor and Lee, the dramaturge before she turns back to us and the final name rolls down her tongue, leaving those perfectly red lips that never stopped smiling all day.

“Y/N, we would like to welcome you to the production of Enchanted on Broadway.”

You gasp and you freeze as your own name rings in your ears and envious stares turn to you from all around the room while you are just standing there, completely shocked that you actually got the part, as if you haven’t been telling yourself it’s going to happen in the past weeks.

“Thank you for everyone, we hope to see you maybe at another audition, because you all have great potential. Y/N, please stay for a little longer so we can discuss the further steps.

You’re going on Broadway, it is finally happening. You’ll be standing on the stage you’ve been dreaming of since you were a little girl, the applause will be yours (partly) every night before the curtains close. You can’t stop thinking about it all through the next about thirty minutes as you discuss every crucial information with Petra, she hands you a schedule and makes you sign some paperwork that already has your name on them. You try to remember everything and when you give them every contact info that’s needed you finally head home.

You can’t help but feel silly when arriving back to your small apartment you put on the movie and watch as Amy Adams sings warmly on the screen with a skeptical Patrick Dempsey and as you hum to the music already knowing most of the songs you wonder who will be your Robert Philip. Petra said the auditions will end this week and you’ll have a table reading on Monday where you’ll be able to meet all the people who will basically be your family for the upcoming months during the rehearsals and once the show opens.

It’s past one am when you finally turn your laptop off putting it away and as you creep your way to your window the nightlights of the city light up your face. Climbing out to the fire escape you listen to the chaotic sounds of the city that never sleeps, watching a group of friends cross the street, spraying champagne to the asphalt, laughing their way into the night. Normally you would find them annoying, but not tonight. You wish them a great night as you dream about a glass of the sparkly beverage in your hand, drinking to your big achievement. Your eyes travel up to the gloomy sky and you let out a wondering sigh, the thought of change embracing your hopes and dreams.

 ***

 “Okay, big smile!”

You flash your widest smile into the camera Lora is holding up in front of you, holding the coffee she just bought you in your hands.

“Amazing, I feel like a mother who is taking her daughter to the school for the first time,” she jokes putting her phone away as the two of you start walking. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks. I’m really excited,” you smile shyly. First day nerves are bringing the best out of you, it’s been a hard task to get some sleep last night and you only managed to rest for a couple of hours, but the excitement is definitely keeping you awake. Today is your first official day at a Broadway production in a leading role, this is a day you will never forget probably.

“You’ll be amazing and when you are finally famous, we can sell your stuff on ebay and get rich!” she cheers making you laugh. She always sees the most important things in situations.

“Great plan.” Checking the time you see that you really should get going if you don’t want to be late for the reading. “I’ll see you tonight?” you ask her stopping at the entrance of the subway.

“Sure, I’ll swing by around nine,” she nods giving you a quick hug. “Break a leg!” she calls after you as you wave while running down the stairs.

You’re not unfamiliar with the world of theater, but every theater is different and you can never know what to expect behind the scenes. It’s a whole new world on the other side of the curtains and as you walk into the building you feel like a wandering child, soaking in every little detail you see, even though it’s not even that extra like you had imagined.

Arriving to the meeting room you are fifteen minutes early, leaving only just a few people there, the long table with chairs all around it, name cards at each seat is set with water bottles and fresh fruits in bowls, a copy of the script is neatly placed at each seat.

“Y/N! Hi! How are you?” Petra welcomes you rushing over to you with that warm smile of hers, wearing an orange colored flowy dress that goes great with her dark brown locks.

“A little nervous but excited,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be nervous, we are all family now here. Come on, let me introduce you around.”

You meet some of the dancers and background actors, Trevor who you have already met at the audition and Petra also introduces you to the Misha, the costume designer who even shows you some of her sketches for the dresses you’ll be wearing on stage and they all look stunning, like a piece of art each.

You find your name at the table and put your coat to the back of the chair, running your fingers over the cover of the script with a small smile playing on your lips and pulling your phone out you shoot a quick photo of the script and your name tag before checking the names around you.

Right next to you is the one you’ve been most curious about, the name Robert Philip written in small under the name of the real person behind the character: Adam Sackler.

“I think you two will get along well,” Petra smiles at you from the other side of the table, seeing you eye the name tag. “He is—oh, he is here!” she declares, head turning to the door and she is already rushing to welcome the tall man who just walked in.

Adam Sackler is quite a man at first sight. His tall figure, broad shoulders and hair dark as the night make him appear a little dour and stern, but the smile he gives to Petra upon seeing her definitely gives his features a soft touch of warmth. He wraps an arm around her shoulders as they exchange a few words you can’t hear from this far, and you seem to be lost in the appearance of the man you’ll fall for on the stage, but you are brought back to reality when his eyes lock with yours and you notice Petra is turned to you as well. You clear your throat, feeling like a kid that’s been caught doing something naughty when you were just looking at him.

The two of them head in your way and you get yourself ready to meet the man, feeling his eyes intensely burning down at you the whole time he strides over to his seat next to you, Petra walking right beside him.

“Y/N, this is Adam. Adam, meet your Giselle, Y/N,” she smiles and when your eyes meet his again you feel his gaze in your guts. He is the definition of intimidating, expressions unreadable paired with a physique that can’t stay unrecognized.

A large hand extends in front of you, and as your palm touches his, you can’t help but notice the size difference.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” he beams, a tiny smile playing on his full lips, the lips you’ll be kissing soon.

Damn it, get your shit together! You tell yourself as you nod at him in a friendly manner.

“You too, Adam.”

Your hopes of Petra easing the nerves you are feeling from this first meeting quickly disappear when more and more people start to arrive and she leaves the two of you alone.

As your hands let go of each other you still feel the warm touch of his hand linger on your skin, both of you turning to your seats.

“So, have been on Broadway before?” he asks, glancing at your shortly as the two of you sit and he starts flipping through the script.

“No, I’m totally a newcomer. Have you been?”

“Yeah, just once a while back.”

“Any advice to be taken?” you smile at him laying your palms out on the table. He thinks to himself for a moment before turning to you.

“Leave reality behind,” he answers with a smile that seems to be hiding tens of feelings and thoughts, maybe a few stories that you are now dying to hear. Adam Sackler is definitely the person you feel drawn to in many ways and as you turn your attention towards the script, aimlessly flipping through the pages you wonder how many sides of him you will get to know by the time the lights go up on the stage for the first time.

 ***

 The reading wouldn’t take more than about two hours at most, but with so many people and even more jokes to make it’s hard to stick to the schedule. There is always just something to add, change, comment on and this is what brings the whole team together. By the time the last words of the last page are said out loud, you feel like part of the bigger whole and the nervousness long gone, replaced by true excitement and anticipation to see what’s next.

“Thank you everyone, I think we can all agree this show is going to be magical,” Trevor, the director speaks up when the reading is over and everyone nods in agreement. “First rehearsals on the stage are expected to start in two weeks, I would like to kindly ask everyone to respect the schedule and the time of others. A list of contacts will be emailed to everyone by the end of the day,” he notes before discharging everyone.

You’re soon pulled into a discussion with Clyde, aka Prince Edward and Misha, talking about preferences for the costumes in the field of comfort and practicality, but you find yourself scanning the room for one particular tall figure.

Adam is standing a couple of feet away from you, talking to a blonde woman who has her hands on the shoulders of Janelle, the girl who’ll be playing Adam’s stage daughter, an adorable little sunshine from what you’ve seen from her in the past few hours, very focused and hardworking, she didn’t have one bad word during the whole thing and read her lines perfectly.

“He is quite the sight, huh?”

Misha’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you haven’t even noticed that Clyde was already gone. Standing next to you, she crosses her arms on her chest, eyes glued to the man in word.

“He has a great presence on the stage I heard.”

“He does?” you ask glancing at her. She nods, tugging her bright red hair behind her ears, a cheeky smile playing on her lips.

“I mean, he has one in real life too, but the way he appears up there, it’s worth a prayer,” she chuckles. “Good luck with not falling for him.”

“I’ll stay professional,” you sternly state, pushing that little voice in the back of your mind that’s doubting your words.

“Professionalism is the first thing you lose when you find yourself in the arms of such a man,” she smirks at you before walking away, leaving you with a whirl of thoughts circling around what she just said.

Checking your schedule you see that though you’ll be pretty busy from now on, your days filled with singing lessons and dance practices, many of them are solo appointments, but your eyes spot all the times when Adam’s name is written besides yours and you have one almost every day.

Glancing in his way one last time your eyes meet his stare, a small smile playing on his lips that you return before grabbing your stuff and leaving.

 ***

 “Okay, wow,” Lora gasps as the picture of Adam appears on her computer, it’s from about a year ago, portraying him with slicked back hair wearing a long trench coat as he stares back at a guy intensely on the stage. You sip from your wine as Lora takes a good look at him.

“Yeah.”

“How tall are you compared to him?”

“My forehead is at his mouth, more or less,” you say recalling how tall he looked standing right in front of you.

“That’s a nice height difference, like, you’ll have to tiptoe to kiss him, it’s cute,” she grins at you and the thought of kissing him send a shiver down your spine. You’ve been thinking about that a lot since you’ve left the table reading, the memory of his eyes on you and the words of Misha haunting you relentlessly.

“What’s that look?”

“What look?” you ask quickly straightening your expression, taking another sip of the wine.

“Oh I know this look, the guy is already messing with your head!”

“He is not,” you shake your head, but you can’t fool your best friend.

“Oh hell yes. I don’t blame you, he looks fine.”

Turning back to the computer she starts typing, digging deeper on the internet trying to find more about him as you lean your back against the headboard, hugging a pillow to your chest. You really can’t have yourself fall this easily for a man who you’ll be working with so closely. Adam seems nice and everything you’ve heard about him is quite impressing, but you don’t know what kind of man he really is. For all you know he can be the biggest jerk in all of New York City.

“Oh my God! Look at this!” you hear Lora gasp as she leans closer to the screen. Sitting up you wonder what she found and looking at the tab that’s open there is a short film playing.

Well, it’s not the type you were expecting, because right on the screen in front of you, there is Adam’s broad back in a light colored shirt, his hair a little longer than it is now and he is… fully spanking a girl bent over a work bench, wearing only a white tank top. Your mouth hangs open as the scene carries on in front of you, the girl or more like woman grunts with each hit on her lower half begging for him to go harder as Adam calls her a slut and a whore, making it probably the most disturbing cinematic thing you’ve seen that’s not officially considered as porn.

“I’m speechless,” Lora lets out an airy chuckle as the scene soon ends with the woman jumping into his arms and you realize she is not even wearing any underwear.

“What… was that?” you whisper with wide eyes. Lora types in a few things before she can answer that question.

“It’s a short film he did last year with someone named Jessa Johnson, it was a private project. It says the story is based on events from his own life.”

“So you are saying at one point he spanked some girl he was dating and then he decided to make a movie out of it?” you grimace in confusion. This is definitely not something that you would have ever thought of him.

“Oh, and the juiciest of all is that this Jessa girl was his girlfriend,” she continues reading about the film. “This article came out six months ago, they were together then. It adapts the happenings of his private life, how he dated the best friend of his ex-girlfriend.”

“Okay, that’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?”

“Depends,” she shrugs as she keeps scrolling. “But this film is definitely a nasty one.”

“I can only imagine what else is in it,” you mumble finishing off your wine and reaching for the bottle you pour yourself some more.

“Wanna figure it out?” she grins and you shake your head no immediately.

“I don’t need inappropriate images in my mind when I’ll be stuck with him at rehearsals.”

Knowing how your conscious works you just can’t take the risk. If he appears in more inappropriate scenes in the film, you bet your life that you wouldn’t make yourself think of anything else when you look at him the next time. The spanking is already more than you would bear with.

“I wonder what else there is about him that we don’t know of,” Lora narrows her eyes staring into the distance.

Adam Sackler has given you way more to think about than you would have ever expected from someone and you haven’t even talked to him that much. His appearance, his words to you and the things the internet is holding about him, it all shows a different person and you can’t decide which one is the real side of him or where he stands if it’s a mixture. You wish you could just ask him all the questions you have about him and get your answers without being judged or have them held against you, but you are left with silent suffering and slow observation until you finally figure this handsome looking mysterious man you’ll be forced to cross paths every day.

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ @writerandee​ @luxury-0pps​ @prncess91​ @malefoygal​ @zaahidahhh​ @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz​ @emily-strange​ @ktellmeastory​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[haztory]

don’t think twice, it’s alright.

based off of the request: “Can I request imagine with Matt Murdock where y/n has some troubles and she goes to him and they just sit on the roof at night. Then she says she wished they were madly in love with each other because it would be easier. Just a cute moment between two best friends? Thank you”

A/N: entitled after a bob dylan song that i listened to when writing this. i’m very sorry for my disappearance. i will be trying to make a comeback. just got out of a manipulative relationship and it has taken a heavy toll on me. i hope you all enjoy.

warnings: mentions of a crappy boyfriend, slightly insensitive comments

(3,888 words)

"So do the sounds ever overwhelm you? Like, to the point where you wanna shoot yourself in the head?"

The door hasn't even closed behind him completely when he is confronted with the question. The rusty spring at the top prevents it from shutting quickly, instead slowly bouncing its way back to a closed position behind him with a resonating croak.

Your voice stuns him, stopping him in his tracks as he reels in from the suddenness of it.

It should feel rather awkward, what with him standing atop of the gravely rooftop of your apartment building holding two small plastic cups and your third cheap bottle of wine in his hands, still dressed to the nines in his formal attire from his earlier session in court.

But, with the wind bringing in a slow breeze that cools the exposed parts of his heated skin and gently displaces his hair, while the nightlife of the city begins to play it's lively anthem in the background, it strangely doesn't. It floods him with nostalgia, images of two giggling children sneaking out of their apartments way past their bedtimes popping into his head.

"That's a bit insensitive, don't you think?" Matt asks, with a wry smile on his face, whether at the question or the lingering memories, he doesn't necessarily know. His feet stay glued in his place near the roof door, his blind eyes seeing a vast array of memories from his youth. It gently pulls at his heartstrings and his cheeks begin to tingle from his incessant grin.

"You didn't answer the question." You respond back in a teasing tone from your position on the blanket. You lie on your back, contentedly staring up at the dimly lit stars in the sky.

He can hear your even breaths and the gentle thrum of your heartbeat from where he was standing. It beats steadily, like a metronome, keeping him balanced in his place while his surroundings begin to swirl and his focus seems to pull in and out at a more rapid pace.

"I love this city," He says nonchalantly, his words slurring slightly as he begins his slow saunter towards your supine body and the worn-out blanket you were laying on. There was no need to rush over to you, not when the moment was perfect, as it was now. If he rushed or moved too fast, he would ruin the ambience of this rare moment between you two; He would ruin the peace of it all.

And he might throw up.

You scoff, tilting your head upwards to turn your gaze from the decorated nighttime vista towards his face. You took note of his face as he stood above you: He had a scratch on the underside of his chin, something remarkably tame considering the hell he is usually put through. His smile remained unwavered, shining brighter than the full moon in the sky. He wasn’t wearing his usual red glasses allowing his eyes to meet yours perfectly.

Iris to iris, pupil to pupil.

You'd think that after all these years, you'd manage to get used to it.

"That still doesn't answer the question."

"What kind of an answer are you looking for?" He shuffles around in his still posture, swaying forward and backward on the balls of his feet, his hands still holding the drink and cups rather tightly. "Obviously not the one I'm giving you."

You sit up, letting out a small grunt as you change positions, an instant relief being placed upon your back as you no longer lay on the rough concrete. You're sure that you could place a hundred blankets on the floor and still feel the gravel on your back.

You raise your hand up, opening and closing your fists rather quickly, motioning to him for a cup. He indulges. "Exceptional deduction skills, counselor."

"That's what I'm paid to do."

He sits beside you on the rather thin comforter you've placed, listening intently to the sound of the cork popping out of the cheap bottle and the  wealthy amount of the liquid you were pouring into your cup. He holds his out to you, silently asking for you to fill it.

"What are we toasting to?" You ask with a drunken giggle, holding Matt's arm with your own to steady to his slightly trembling hands. He scoffs in response, shaking his head with furrowed brows and a smile as he stares off to the side in question.

"Well, our first toast was for thanking Fridays--"

"Praise our heavenly father for making such a momentous day--"

"--Our second toast was to ‘Cheez-Its’, so I think we should make this one pretty serious."

You can’t tell whether there was sarcasm in his voice or not. His face gives no indication to the question either.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

He rolls his head over to you, his brown eyes once again finding yours immediately, with pinpoint precision. Despite his drunken fidgeting, his eyes maintain a still gaze, never darting around or looking off to the side, indicating his seriousness.

Matt manages to always-- with little to no hesitancy, mind you-- find your eyes instantly in any situation. Whether surrounded by a crowd of people, or separated at the opposite sides of a room, a quick glance upward and you could find his gaze staring right back at you. It still startles you at times, to be talking rather candidly with him about something or other to then find him staring straight into your soul as though he actually could. It catches you off guard sometimes, seeing his beautiful eyes unabashedly watching you without actually be able to see.

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

You snort, "Alright. You do the honors."

You release his arm, having filled his cup to the brim. He quickly raises it in the air, spilling some of the contents while he looks over the ledge of the roof as if he were addressing a large crowd seated before him. The corners of his eyes crinkle and the lines around his mouth deepen as the grin widens. He clears his throat.

"To (Y/N)'s promotion!" He calls out to the imaginary group, pride seeping through each syllable he speaks. His face resembles one of pure joy and if you knew any better, you would think he was the one who received the promotion instead of you. Matt wore it with more pride in two minutes than you did in two hours.

If you could have frozen time and lived in a moment for the rest of your life, this would be it.

You'd live in the constant memory of this Matt, with a smile brighter than the moon above you and cheeks tinged pink from the previous bottle of wine he drank. His sleeves messily rolled up his arms with no care in the world as the various snack you have brought surround him at this midnight picnic in the city you both love.

There were few moments in life when you saw Matthew Murdock truly happy. Those times came far and few nowadays, what with the world seemingly being placed upon his shoulders every time he donned that damned suit.

Ironically, you can't make the distinction between which suit: his fancy three piece suits, or the red leather one. They were both devilish in your eyes.

The two worlds collided in more ways than one, always leaving Matt as the injured party in their vicious war between each other. You could see him grow more tired with each day that passed, if you at all even got to see him that day. His body was permanently decorated in scars and bruises and his job never felt done.

They took your Matthew, chewed him and spit him out, crushing every pure and precious part of him, leaving the hollow silhouette of the man you once knew.

But, in all the dark fog comes a sliver of a joyous moment, like this one. Where a smile washes away all the hurt and the virtuous man you loved rises from the shadows.

You wanted more than anything to freeze this moment, and keep Matt in this suspended nirvana for as long as possible. You would be content to sit and watch him for hours. Anything, anything, to give him this slight moment of happiness.

The happiness he deserves.

You hadn't realized you'd been staring until his head turns to you again.

A laugh slowly dies on his lips, his smile disappearing as he notices you studying him. A comfortable silence befalls the two of you.

A pause seems to come over you two, the surrounding environment slowing down to a complete halt and only your heartbeat resounding in his ears, beating like a drum. It was loud, but not overpowering, drowning out the sirens and horns of the city below you two. Just a present reminder of your company and your liveliness. It calms his breathing and the frazzled thoughts his tipsy mind brought forward.

It reminds him of the months after his accident, when you purposely skipped school under the guise of a feigned illness just to spend time with the young and aggravated Matthew. Even as his anger and frustration consumed him in those trying months, your heartbeat managed to calm him down more than any words of encouragement from his father could.

It was the first time he learned to be appreciative of the heightened senses he adapted; It got him closer to you.

In this still and tranquil world, Matt felt all the weights that seemed to take permanent residence on his chest disappear. There was no Daredevil here, no lawyer, no rules based on his faith that he needed to abide by.

Just you and him. He and you. How it's always been. How it always should be.

But there's something off.

He doesn't really know where he feels it or why, but he does. He knows you're looking at him, but your attention isn't on him. There's something beneath the surface.

Is that attributed to his heightened senses or just knowing you that well? He doesn't know.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He gently asks, his hand reaching upwards to tug lightly on your earlobe.

You slowly blink, your attention being drawn away from the thoughts you didn't realize were consuming you, "Hmm?"

"What's on your mind?" He asks again, letting his hand drop from your face and move towards the box of ‘Cheez-Its’ laid between you two. He grabs a couple and pops them into his mouth.

You open your mouth and close it, only to open and close it again. You let out a breathless laugh, shrugging your shoulders and shaking your head. You turn your head towards the view of the city, eyes darting around the numerous figures until fixating onto the neighboring building.

"I don't think I'm going to take it."

Matt suddenly inhales, a piece of the cheesy cracker sucking into the back of his throat, forcing a string of coughs out of his mouth. He hunches over, trying to breathe through his numerous coughs while you hit your hand repeatedly on his back.

"Jesus Christ, Matt!" you laugh out, finding his cup of wine and handing it to him. He graciously drinks it between coughs.

"What-- what do you mean you're not going to take it?" His eyes are wide when they meet yours, shock written over his face at the prospect of your news and from seeing his life flash before his eyes.

You keep a steadying hand on his back until his breathing returns to normal, keeping your voice even as he recuperates. "I'd have to move halfway across the country for this job. I'm not going to leave everything I have here for that."

You explain this to him as though it was normal, like he was the crazy one. His face contorts into one of deep confusion, the skin wrinkling between his eyebrows and his mouth agape as stares at you. He loosens the tie around his neck.

"But, you worked so hard for this." There's a twinge of desperation? disappointment? in his statement.

You take your hand back, fiddling with the stray threads on the blanket below you that have become ten times more interesting than the piercing eyes of the man beside you. You can feel his judgement creep up your shoulders and it becomes very clear that you've made the wrong choice to tell him this. While he was drunk. After he just so graciously celebrated with you.

Queen of good timing is what you are.

"Yeah, well, y'know," you grow quiet with each words, a sheepish tone taking over, "I realized I've got everything I want here."

You still don't meet his eyes. He is still looking at you like you've crushed his dreams.

He is adamantly unhappy, but he can at least understand the sentiment behind your reasoning. He feels it in some ways too, whenever he is confronted by the nightly tragedies both of his jobs seem to throw at his feet. Hell's Kitchen isn't the greatest of places, but it holds everything near and dear to his heart.

He's still displeased with this decision and will continue to argue against you, but he understands it.

"Besides," you resume, and you can hear the little voice in your head to stop where you are. To not go any further and ruin the advantage you have (sentiment for the city has and always will be Matt's weakness). But you're too drunk to really listen to the voice and it ends up tumbling out of your mouth, "David's still getting his feet on the ground and I can't do that to him."

Again, the absolute queen of good timing.

You can literally sense the waves of anger rolling off of Matt's body and you're stuck in the middle of the tide, unable to swim off to the side to get out.

He groans loudly at the mention of your boyfriend's name, the confusion being replaced by disbelief and rage. It settles over him like a mist, putting a dampen on his mood instantly. His teeth grind against each other and his fists instinctively curl up.

You wince at his sudden rising from the blanket, watching him resort to his stereotypical "lawyer stance" with his hands placed upon his hips and an intense frown etched on his face. He slightly sways from the quick movement, swallowing the bile that rose up his throat with a contortion of disgust on his face before returning to the stern father persona he tended to don whenever your disappointment of a boyfriend was mentioned.

You really should've waited.

"David's been 'getting on his feet' for the past four years." Matt spits out, tapping a hand lightly onto his chest to help ease the acid that made a quick appearance back down his esophagus.

"You good?" you ask him as he releases a rather nasty burp, silently wondering if you were going to have to make a quick run down to your apartment to grab some cleaning supplies.

"Yeah, 'm fine." He grunts out.

"You sure? I can go get a bucket if you want."

He sternly points a finger at you, "Stop changing the subject."

"I'm just worried you're going to--"

"(Y/N)!"

You sigh, letting your head drop down. You wish you didn't mention the name of your boyfriend, knowing now that you were going to have to justify the reasoning behind his incompetence in life, and even you knew there was no way you could positively spin his inadequacy.

You place both of your hands over face, rubbing your eyelids deeply, wanting to wake up from this self-inflicted nightmare.

"He's just having trouble, is all." It sounds pathetic in your head and even more so as you say it. You cringe with each word.

“Cause he's an idiot."

"Matt--"

"Come on, (Y/N). You're going to give up the promotion of a lifetime because some loser can't handle you actually being better than him?"

"No! Well, yes and no."

"What?!" Matt's voice raises a couple of octaves, disbelief coating the question like paint.

"He would have trouble adjusting to L.A. and I just want to make things easy for us. It's just one of the things you have to do for love."

Matt, who had been pacing during this conversation, suddenly stops in his tracks. His head snaps towards you and you can imagine the sound of a whip accompanying the curtness of the movement.

"Love?!" He asks loudly, "You call that, love?!"

It was your turn to groan, flopping back down onto your blanket as you have to repeat the same argument you've had with Matthew since you first started dating David five years ago.

"Love is not holding your partner back from success based off of your own insecurities, which he has done to you multiple times might I add. Love is not dragging your feet in the dirt because you didn't get what you want, (Y/N)." Each word hits you like a knife; Whether it was the alcohol or the reality of the situation suddenly hitting you doesn't really matter when you realize that the stinging you felt in your eyes was actually due to the tears suddenly springing forth to the surface.

David wasn't a bad guy; He could be funny when he wanted to and particularly kind on a good day, but there was nothing more than that. You dated him out of attraction and combined with the desire to escape from the constant feeling of loneliness, you began to put up with the negatives in favor of a relationship.

"He doesn't love you because of the kind of person you are," Matt continues his tirade, his speech fast and unrelenting as he releases his pent up frustrations, "And you don't love him because of who he is, because we all know what a massive dick he is. You love him because you're in a relationship with him!”

You forcefully lie back down onto your blanket, keeping your focus trained on the stars above than Matt’s anger. You can hear him kick some gravel off the ground.

“You need to be with someone who cares about you, and wants you to live the life you deserve and get all the promotions in the world. You need to be with someone who is willing to go all the way to L.A. for you, or even maintain a long-distance relationship for fuck's sake! I'm tired of seeing that bastard use you because he can!"

Matt opens his mouth to add onto his spiel until he hears the low sniffles emitting from you. His throat dries up and he realizes just how much of bastard he's being. He always tried to approach the situation with a gentle attitude, aware that there was a definitive power struggle in the relationship that just couldn't be solved with tough love. He's done enough cases to understand even the basics of that idea, alongside many classes of psychology.

Apparently drunk Matt didn't care about that.

He runs a hand through his hair and down the front of his face, moving to rub the back of his neck. Shame encompasses his body, replacing the adrenaline shot the anger provided. He kicks his feet around the gravel, uncomfortably listening to your sniffles grow before forcing himself to sit beside you on the worn out blanket.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out.

"No, no," you wipe away the tears and wipe your nose with the back of your hand, "You're right. I just-- I don't think I can do it."

There's too much wallowing in your tone for him to feel any happiness about the revelation you've just made. Instead, it makes him feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Rightfully so.

"Leaving David would mean that I actually have to do something with my life. It would mean that I have to take the job in L.A. and have to leave home and my family and I'd have to leave you. And I can't do it,” you whisper.

He can hear your heart break when you say it, because his does too. The thought of you leaving is unfathomable to him and it's much too depressing for him to even think about it. He can't remember a time in his life when he wasn't with you. He finds that he doesn't want to.

But he has too.

"Yes you can," Matt tells you sadly, his eyes once again finding your red rimmed ones like a boat finding the lighthouse in the dark. "If anyone can do it, it would be you."

He grabs your hand, holding it tightly, "You're going to accept that promotion, you're going to go to L.A. and make a ton of money-- and I mean a ton-- and you're going to come back here and make sure I'm still alive every couple of months."

A watery laugh bubbles out of your throat and Matt responds with a small laugh of his own. A bittersweet smile falls over your face as you look at his soft, unstressed one. "You're gonna be happy, (Y/N). And you're going to forget all the pain David put you through."

You remove your hand from his, placing it on his cheeks and rubbing your fingers over the light stubble he's been growing. He leans into your touch, mirroring your sad smile.

"Y’know, we could've avoided all this if we were in love. Probably would've been so much easier," you murmur to him like you were the only two people on the world, and it doesn't feel too off.

"Who knows? We've still got a couple years left."

"It's been twelve years, Matt. If it hasn't happened yet I don't think it's gonna happen anytime soon."

"Never say never." He takes the hand placed on his cheek and places a soft kiss against your knuckles. He holds it with such delicacy and warmth as though if he tried hard enough, his love could fix all your problems and heal all your pains. He doesn't realize that his presence already does that.

He turns his body, lying down beside you on the comforter, already feeling the gravel poke and prod on his back but he doesn't mind it. He won't until you do. Your fingers intertwine together and you've suddenly been transported back into your days as a youth, gazing up at the sky when you were supposed to be in bed. But like before, you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions tomorrow, much too immersed in the silence and tranquility that comes with being at Matt Murdock’s side.

"You're still going to dump David though, right?"

You laugh loudly, the comment eliciting a hearty giggle that shook the entirety of your body as though you had never laughed before. It clears all the toxic waste that held you down, filling you instead with bubbly liquid that warms your chest.

You lie there in a still silence, breathing in the chill breeze and relaxing in the geniality of each other. On the rough concrete protected only by an old blanket where no pain or hurt can touch either of you.

You have each other, and that was all you really ever needed.

tag list: @mooniessuniverse

[wineanddinosaur]

How Jimmy Buffet Accidentally Charted a Course From Margaritaville to Corona to LandShark Lager

Jimmy Buffett’s entry to the beer world happened quite accidentally, as you’d expect most things do in Buffett’s life. It was 1984 and the laid-back rocker was sitting in the office of his manager, Howard Kaufman. As Kaufman spoke on the phone with Corona’s marketing team, trying to get them to be the beer sponsor for another client, The Eagles, on their upcoming tour, Buffett interjected:

“Hey, I’d like Corona to be my sponsor, too,” he said.

It was a curious choice because, at the time, most American consumers saw Corona as more of a Mexican workingman’s beer; not some cut-loose, sand-in-your-toes, party pounder. But, upon inking a deal with Buffett, Corona quickly started incorporating the Margaritaville beach lifestyle aesthetic into its ads and promotional materials. According to Forbes, “Corona hired him to flog its Mexican brew to young, cash-fat consumers,” spending more than $2 million on a radio campaign starting in 1984.

In turn, Buffett’s fans, known as Parrotheads, committed themselves almost exclusively to the light cerveza at shows, where, during the song “Cheeseburger in Paradise” a sign would illuminate on stage showing Corona bottles with limes wedged in their necks.

“Go to a Jimmy concert today, look around, and you’ll say, ‘Wow, this is all Corona imagery,” says John Cohlan, the longtime CEO of Margaritaville Holdings, LLC, in Palm Beach, Fla. “But, you have to remember, it wasn’t always like that.”

Realizing that it had inadvertently stumbled upon lightning in a bottle, Corona went so far as to co-opt the title of Buffett’s seminal 1977 album, “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes,” for a subsequent campaign. “Change your whole latitude” was the motto in commercials and on billboards all across the country by 1992. Corona trademarked that line without even informing Buffett.

“That ended up being the most successful Corona ad ever,” explains Cohlan, who still isn’t sure whether Buffett is aware of what the beer brand had done.

Corona’s “Change your whole latitude” campaign co-opted the title of Buffett’s seminal 1977 album, “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.”

Corona’s sales had been declining as recently as 1991, but once it adopted the “latitude” tagline, in 1992, business was booming. “The sponsorship of Jimmy Buffett … helped create a fun-in-the-sun image for the brand,” AdAge wrote in 1998 as Corona had just ousted Heineken to become America’s top imported beer.

By 1999, when Corona finally scrapped the Buffett-based tagline, it was the nation’s 10th best-selling beer, seen as the quintessential “vacation in a bottle.” Today, it’s one of the only macro beers still trending upward in sales.

“And it was all based on this IP that came directly from Jimmy’s tour,” Cohlan says. “That made us start thinking … maybe we should quit Corona and do our own thing.”

Room for more than one ‘Vacation in a bottle’

“Woodstock for people who like to drink heavily.”

That’s what Cohlan jokingly calls the annual New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. It was there, in 1998, where he first met Buffett. At the time Cohlan worked with Triarc, a holding company that held shares in brands like Arby’s and RC Cola. Triarc had moved its operations to Florida in the early 1990s, and Northeast-raised Cohlan still wasn’t thrilled about it. But, as he watched Buffett perform for the first time, he had a revelation.

“I looked out and I saw all these people dressed up,” Cohlan says of Parrotheads’ signature, tropical-splattered beachwear, “and I said to myself, ‘This is more of a brand than the brands that we actually own.’ Buffett was their entire way of life.”

At the time, Buffett operated just three small Margaritaville restaurants in Key West, Fla., and Jamaica and didn’t seem that interested in expanding, especially after one foray into New Orleans had flopped. But, upon creating his role as CEO of Margaritaville Holdings, Cohlan brokered a deal with Seagram Spirits & Wine Group (which also owned Buffett’s label at the time, MCA) to license the name Margaritaville to a 20,000-square-foot space at the entrance to Universal Studios’ new Islands of Adventure theme park in Orlando.

When it opened, in May 1999, it was a massive success. The empire began rapidly expanding, with Margaritaville restaurants popping up all across the country.

Capitalizing on that success and, after angering Cohlan by releasing a sounds-a-little-too-similar Parrot Bay Rum, Seagram quickly issued a line of Margaritaville Tequila in 2000.

Buffett’s tour, meanwhile, was still sponsored by Corona. In 2006, as the 8th annual Orlando Beer Fest (held at Universal CityWalk) approached, Cohlan realized it was finally time to make a move. It was time for Buffett and Margaritaville to have their own proprietary beer for the restaurant chain and, perhaps, the world. (“Let’s take our beach back,” he recalls Buffett saying.)

Cohlan initially approached Corona about contract-brewing their beer, but, as he recalls, they told him, “No thanks. We already have a ‘Corona.’” They moved onto sponsoring Kenny Chesney.

So Cohlan called up his buddy Dave Peacock, then-president of Anheuser-Busch. Conveniently, they had been looking for a “Corona killer” for years, having already failed with two previous challengers, Azteca in the late-1990s and Tequiza, a tequila-flavored beverage that was about to be discontinued.

“Thankfully, [Peacock] said, ‘There’s room in America for more than one “vacation in a bottle,”’” Cohlan says.

No one wants to drink a ‘Lone’

Parrotheads were both angered he’d dumped Corona, then a little confused by who was making his new beer, but, ultimately, they fell hard for LandShark Lager, which burst onto the scene at Buffett’s Feb. 10, 2007 Tallahassee concert.

Initially, the brand had called it Lone Palm Lager — based on the name of a song from Buffett’s “Fruitcakes” album and the outdoor seaplane bar near Margaritaville — but the name just wasn’t resonating. As Cohlan explains:

“When we did consumer research, people would say “I don’t want to drink a ‘Lone.’”

Calling it Margaritaville Lager would have been a little confusing, too. So they started thinking about some of his other songs. Then, just like now, one of Buffett’s most popular concert performances was for “Fins.” It’s about a woman at a beach bar who feels like prey to all the men trying to aggressively pick her up. Before each live performance, audience members place their hands in the shape of a fin on top of their heads and start swaying back and forth while Buffett would call out: “The LandSharks are coming!”

They were already selling concert merch with LandShark logos on it — a fin with squiggly waves underneath it, palm trees in the background— and it wouldn’t be too hard to adapt that for a beer. It would come in a clear bottle, just like a Corona, and be an inoffensive and easy-drinking “island lager.” Its slogan, written on the spur of the moment by Buffett, was “Let the fin begin!”

Even in this highly skeptical era, when most people still don’t realize what “crafty” beers are owned by multinational conglomerates, folks were onto LandShark Lager right from the get-go.

The first-ever review of Landshark Lager on BeerAdvocate, in January of 2007, reads, “Looks very much like [Anheuser-Busch]’s version of Corona, right down to the bottle and marketing.” Another early review notes: “[Anheuser-Busch]’s latest attempt to bite into the Corona market in the sunshine state. It’s got the pee yellow color, snappy name, and clear bottle.” By March, The Palm Beach Post was reporting that “Buffett’s new beer masquerades as microbrew,” explaining:

“At first glance, LandShark looks like a microbrew that’s produced by Buffett himself. After all, the name alludes to the Buffett song Fins, the product is displayed prominently on Buffett’s Web site and the bottle says the lager is made by Margaritaville Brewing Co. of Jacksonville. But LandShark is brewed by Anheuser-Busch Cos. of St. Louis, although the nation’s largest brewer seeks a stealth role.”

(Cohlan claims Margaritaville simply licenses its name out to the brewery.)

Reviews of the beer’s quality were even more dismissive.

“Like a bad Corona,” wrote one online review. “Could maybe see drinking this on a dive boat in Mexico … And it would have to be 95 degrees, with the beer temp just above freezing.” Doug Blackburn, Tallahassee Democrat’s online beer columnist, wrote. “LandShark Lager lacks taste and flavor. At best, it qualifies as a lawn mower beer, a post-workout thirst quencher.”

Almost since the beginning, it has scored a pathetic 1 (out of 100) on RateBeer.com.

Yet, none of this seemed to matter to Parrotheads who quickly began switching their allegiances. “You dont even need a lime to make it better to drink. (sic)” wrote one fan on an early beer forum.

Thanks to Buffett’s devoted fan base, despite its dismal reviews Landshark Lager sells close to 4 million cases a year in America, which makes it a better seller at retail than Guinness. Credit: Landsharklager.com

Initially it was only available at Margaritaville restaurants, Buffett concerts, and in Florida, but it quickly expanded nationwide, sitting on store shelves and in gas station coolers right next to Corona. By the 2009 NFL season, the Miami Dolphins were even playing in LandShark Stadium, a move the football team thought would make game day a more “multi-entertainment experience” for fans. It looked like LandShark Lager had a real shot to become the “Corona killer.”

But then … it never really did.

In fact, I literally thought the beer was no longer on the market when I began reporting this story, but that’s not true whatsoever. It may have never taken down Corona, but it still became a pretty big player in macro beer, all in a bit of a weird, “Florida man” kind of way. That’s why, if you’re a guy like me, who mainly goes to craft beer bars in urban environments, you aren’t really going to ever see it.

Yet Landshark Lager sells close to 4 million cases a year in America, which makes it a better seller at retail than Guinness. (Though, not as good as Corona, which reportedly sold 65 million cases in 2017 and is today the fifth best-selling beer in America.) It also sells well in Canada and numerous spots in the Caribbean. It’s not just boomer Parrotheads buying it, either — there’s a college ambassador program that has led the brand to pick up steam among our nation’s newest beer guzzlers.

(And all this without a single TV commercial. In fact, Cohlan claims they spend less than $1 million a year on marketing, compared to the over $100 million per year Corona spends on advertising.)

There are also currently 12 LandShark Bar & Grills (in such far-flung places as Branson, Mo., and Tulsa, Okla.), not to mention LandShark bars on six different Norwegian Cruise Line ships. LandShark Stadium relinquished the naming rights after just one year — it’s called Hard Rock Stadium today — though a rewritten version of “Fins” still does play occasionally after touchdowns, while the concession stands serve plenty of the lager. The beer is not going away any time soon and Cohlan thinks it still has room to grow to 10 million cases per year.

You could argue this was the first real celebrity beer, way ahead of its time compared to today’s era when Metallica is now partnering with Stone, or the Grateful Dead with Dogfish Head. LandShark Lager does a helluva lot better than all those beers, too, and will almost certainly still be around when they are not. That’s the power of Buffett, as a musician, businessman, and beerman.

“It ultimately works because Jimmy created one of few true lifestyle brands in this country,” Cohlan says. “It’s not a celebrity beer. It’s not called Jimmy Buffett Beer, and that’s intentional. That’s to his credit. His art form created an entire lifestyle around his lyrics. About working hard, but being able to still escape and enjoy yourself. A person’s name is not a lifestyle, but a person’s art can be. That’s why LandShark Lager works. You look at other celebrity beers, and he dwarfed the curve.”

Meanwhile, even if LandShark Lager didn’t win the initial race, Buffett, the indefatigable businessman, is still looking for ways to beat Corona. In September of last year he announced plans for his own marijuana line. It will be called Coral Reefer.

The article How Jimmy Buffet Accidentally Charted a Course From Margaritaville to Corona to LandShark Lager appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/jimmy-buffet-corona-landshark-lager/

[rusticrevivals]

Happy Canada Day!  Having lived and taught on ‘the rez’ for 4 years, I do understand how the indigenous people of our nation may feel about this 150th celebration. And having lived twice in England because I’m such an Anglophile at heart, I also don’t necessarily agree that having gained our ‘independence’ from Britain is such a perfect condition either, but I did try to throw myself totally into the spirit of the special holiday, and WITHOUT adding anything more to our carbon footprint than was necessary.  I don’t really believe in fireworks, anymore, as the damage it does to wildlife is shocking – but we did make some very loud noises of our own, and, as per psalms 98:4, we DID ‘make a joyful noise unto the Lord’, as the pastor was with us, and therefore I believe all God’s creatures, great and small, were undisturbed.  Oh, that’s not quite true –  our singing DID upset Cammie and Chevy a bit last week – more on this later!

Friday June 30th and Saturday July 1st were wonderful days for those of in New Denmark  and surrounding rural valleys, who love music.  But yesterday, July 2nd was probably the best blog-point my readers will most enjoy, since they can’t actually hear our music (unless it’s later posted on Youtube or we buy and upload the recording that was made…)  It has been said in the last week that one of the things the rest of the world likes the most about Canadians is that we don’t take ourselves too seriously.  And you can start with one of the leaders of our little community, Pastor Ralph Weigold, when you want to examine how to be self-deprecating whilst still making a firm point.  How did Chevy’s parade polo wraps from 2 week-ends ago, end up as a stole for the dear pastor yesterday?  Read on!

After discovering that we were unable to feel fulfilled (we weren’t joyful enough for the Lord!)  with only a small choir singing in unison for just Christmas and Easter in our churches (there are two Lutheran ones here in New Denmark, for which Pastor Ralph is responsible), I went in search of a larger choir that sang in at least 3-part if not 4-part harmony. What fit the bill?  Perth/Andover’s Community Choir, led by their indomitable mayor, Marianne Tiessen Bell (who is also in several other musical groups as well as leading the town’s book club, as WELL as leading a campaign as mayor to help the victims of flooding  ((due in part to the massive clear-cutting this province gets up to – see my previous post “Taken At the Flood”)) and to put in place a plan to prevent further flooding from doing as much damage!)  see latest re: this campaign here:   http://globalnews.ca/news/3361542/province-to-review-perth-andover-flood-adaptation-plan/

Richard and I will be joining her choir in the fall, but in the meantime we were awestruck at the power and beauty and passion involved in singing with the 150 Voices Choral group that she was responsible for assembling, under the brilliant direction of Peter McLaughlin of Second Wind Music Centre in Bristol, to the south of Perth. (Peter is a retired music teacher, thus, I believe, the most excellent name of the group). I have known a number of Peters in my lifetime, and not one has ever failed to inspire me to better things, or to motivate me to present the best I have within me.  Mr. McLaughlin did not disappoint; I don’t believe I’ve ever sung as strongly, or read the music with such quick and sharp glances so that I could get back to watching him conduct.

While we couldn’t travel down to their regular rehearsals, an all-day workshop was being held for those of us that couldn’t make the other practices. This was on Friday, the day before our big scheduled performance, so Richard, myself and our church’s organist, Sonja Pedersen travelled down to take part in a completely exciting clinic for singers, led by Peter.  It was held at the St. Mary of the Angels Catholic church, which had stunning acoustics for us. These two shots were taken by a P/A C C member who was singing in the alto/tenor section.  While I’m too far away (in the many sopranos, both 1st and 2nd) to be seen, you will notice Richard, in white, sitting beside the gentleman named Don Kelly in the pale yellow:

We were both surprised to see rather a lot of women singing tenor in this grouping, in fact Richard thought there were more there than in the alto section!

We were introduced to, and practiced such an amazing variety of music, all with Canadian ties:  Oscar Peterson’s beautiful and uplifting Hymn to Freedom, Coco Love Alcorn’s (the daughter of jazz musician, Owen Sound’s John Alcorn) The River, which we were ‘allowed’ to ‘jazz/spiritualize’ by throwing in our own harmonies and descants, Klee Wyck, about Emily Carr and her importance to Canadian art (both the latter two had some wonderful drums, incl. native sounds I haven’t heard since ‘the rez’ !),  the incomparable Rankin classic “We Rise Again”, fitting as Peter went to uni. with the late Raylene Rankin – this song was also popularized by the also sadly-late Rita MacNeil), and my favourite – our country’s second anthem – “This Is Our Home”.  To hear it sung with orchestra, try this link:  https://youtube.com/watch?v=rdXGZ4vYKGg   although I hope our own recording may be available at some point soon. Having finished the afternoon session we were treated to a smorgasbord of fine dishes, both hot and cold,  hosted by the Perth/Andover Choir and the ladies of the St. M. of the A. church.  It was massive and delicious.  Here’s a shot of Richard and me (in cap) chowing down with a fellow who looked and sounded like Jimmy Stewart. Kinda spooky!

Richard and I had despaired of ever finding anyone with a talent for choosing such amazing and inspiring choral music and of being led by anyone as excellent as Carlisle, Ontario’s own Heather Olaveson, but to our relief, Marianne and Peter have brought us happily back to that wonderful place once more.  Unfortunately, due to the month of constant rain we’ve had, the outdoor venue for all this music had to be set aside, and the tent and staging area set up in the arena instead.  Let’s just say that the acoustics were NOT what they were in the Catholic church the day before, but they certainly had a lot of microphones hanging from inside the tent to help us project out!

Before the choirs- including this mass choir of 150 voices-  were to perform Saturday, however (we had a dress rehearsal from 10-12, so were again in Perth all day July 1st!)  Marianne had organized several local instrumental groups to play, for a half-hour each.

First, and to Scottish Mom’s delight, were the Southern Victoria Pipe Band, who also marched in New Denmark’s parade, you may remember from the photos. Second on the program was “Wildwood”, a local band that plays a combination of folk/pop/ and rock-a-billy music.  Again, the theme was to be all Canadian connections, so our ears were opened to new pieces for many of us, as well as a taste of the old folk songs that used to resound throughout these northern Appalachians.

Third were the Wednesday Evening Fiddlers who ALSO graced the New Denmark parade a few weeks ago (on a float, rather than marching the 4.5 km as the poor pipers – and poor Chevy and Champ had to do!)  And fourthly was an utterly fabulous group from the Sistema program of offering orchestral music to ALL children.  Many of these kids playing were from the local ‘rez’, or from lower-income families, and for Mom and myself, having spent decades listening and watching those taught ‘the Suzuki method’, this was a heart-warming experience – to see AND to hear:

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Both groups played a variety of Canadian music – the fiddlers some of the ‘good ole tunes’, but the group from Sistema really ‘brought it home’ with some movie connection titles, some rock connections, and adding in a sprinkling of classical and folk to boot!

Unlike Ontario, where people are much more, shall we say, – er- strung like a tightly-tuned fiddle? – here in the Maritimes, people just get up and dance in the aisles or at the base of the stage if they like the music.  Either in a male/female couple, or female/female, or in the case of the one lady, far left in fuscia, just clog-it  on your own!

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Then came a very scary time:  the debut of my little group, the New Denmark Minstrels. As we were the smallest choir we were the first of the local groups to begin the Choral  Concert. Yikes! We’ve been rehearsing once a week for the last 10 weeks.  However, in that time we’ve gone from 14 who said ‘yes’, to 10 ‘committed and practicing’ to 8 when one soprano and one alto quit for a variety of reasons that change every time I hear them, then back up to 10 (now incl. me, though I was playing piano, guitar and trying to direct as well) when I persuaded Mom/Joy and pastor’s wife Ellen to join the alto section at the last hour (2 weeks prior)… All this upheaval for just 2 songs and in only a 10 week period for full commitment!  I heartily thank all those who stuck it out, remembered to show up (some on the correct days, and some not!)  practiced over and over, and even while most had to miss SOME of those 10 practices, and a few ‘section’ rehearsals had to be added, we did manage to sing the correct version for at least 65% of the required 3-part harmonies we were attempting! Not TERRIBLE for our first time out, and in a very large venue as well! Especially since only a few of the Minstrels can read music!  In our last full rehearsal on Wednesday, we performed both pieces (a Canadian pop-song medley I arranged and the “Ida May” folk song I wrote – about, if you’ve been following this blog, the pioneer gal who settled our farm and raised a family – see Log Cabin Legends posting) IN OUR BARN.  Because most barns around here are quonsets, constructed for ‘potato barns’, the echo in there is better than any shower/bathroom in which you’ve ever yodeled.  We enjoyed singing with that wonderful arc of tin over us, resonating our harmonies more deeply and sweetly than we could have imagined!  However, as stated above, Cammie and Chevy who were ‘in’ due to the weather/flies that afternoon, were NOT the appreciative audience for which we’d hoped. Cammie bleated throughout (trying to join in, said Pastor Ralph, but I think not) and Chevy was kicking madly at the stall wall.  I’d like to think it was a large horsefly, but when I went to check I saw nothing… and it started again when we began to sing again!

The pieces included in the medley, both sung and instrumentalized by me on piano as a segue between vocalized melodies were:

Dan Hill’s Sometimes When We Touch, Paul Anka’s My Way (made famous by Mr. Sinatra himself, of course – and the 4 men did a beautiful strong rendition of this one without the ladies adding!) Hagood Hardy’s The Homecoming, Joni Mitchell’s Clouds, Buffy Saint Marie’s Until It’s Time for You to Go, Gene MacClellan/Anne Murray’s Snowbird, and Mom suggested, as we’re from Tillsonburg, a couple of measures of Put Your Hand in the Hand…             For the lyrics to Ida May, which I accompanied on a VERY quiet guitar as I only know four or five chords, see below at the bottom of this post.

As the altos preferred to be away from the other groups (I know that feeling from singing alto in Carlisle for 3 years!) and as the sopranos (2 plus me where I could manage it) needed strength so as not to be drowned out by the uber-powerful men, I separated them up along the stage for the medley (3 parts) and had a mic on the sops.  It had some rocky moments, but we managed to complete without a break-down!  (click on each photo to see in full and enlarged).

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The men think they should have their own quartet now, called the Bald Bass/Baritones. I think you can see why; no need to hear them!  I made the duo-tang books with our music to look like the Danish flag, with a few swift masking tape tear-offs.

As mentioned above, the average practice attendance out of 10 was 7, due to several funerals in the valley (of course Pastor was needed at those, but being a close-knit community, there were usually a few others who were related to the deceased as well.)  However, a good fishing day could also interfere, and of course Joy and Ellen didn’t agree to join us until we were just a few weeks away!  But the cutest story of a near-miss was down to Pastor Ralph himself.

Since Chevy and Cammie arrived here, both with illnesses and both losing weight at an alarming rate, our minister has taken as much interest in their respective healths as he does of his human parishioners.  So one Friday afternoon nearly all the choir was sitting in our living room-cum-meeting room waiting on two people to show. And one of them was Pastor.  After we did some voice warm-ups, we were about to start without them when the phone rang. I ran to answer it, and sure enough, it was the Good Reverend Ralph.  “Oh, dear, what’s happened?  Nothing too terrible I hope? ” I blurted in to the phone.  “No, nothing’s happened”, said Pastor, after a slightly odd and awkward pause. “I was just calling to see how Chevy’s feeling these last few days”.  Now it was my turn to pause.  Then a big grin came on my face as I realized the enormous coincidence in timing.  “Well, Pastor Ralph, I’d be glad to tell you how Chevy is when you arrive over here and get sat on our couch !”  I let that sink in and then he laughed.  “Oh, good heavens, I forgot what day it is! Be right there!”

Anyway, on Saturday, after the Minstrels had finished Ida May (which went better than the medley, though it’s had much less practice!) and we took a succinct joint bow and scurried down to our seats, the Scotch Colony Choir was up next.  They kindly mentioned that it was the Danes in New Denmark who first helped THEIR immigrants to keep from starving in the very ferocious winter of 1873 when they arrived.  They got this from the lyrics I wrote in Ida May (printed below), so, as Mom says, I guess the audience heard at least SOME of the words ENUNCIATED correctly. (If you don’t know my mother, she’s HUGE on proper enunciation!)

Marianne Bell also sang  (despite having lost most of her voice, bless her, after all the days of singing, organizing, socializing, etc!) with the Scotch Colony choir, pictured here. I’ve never seen people get up and dance to a CHOIR, but they sang so many ‘golden oldies’ that people’s feet were constantly tapping even in their seats!

Then came Marianne’s own Perth/Andover Community Choir, which Richard and I hope to join in the fall.  For this Marianne (in white) conducted through some, but also, as in the last pic, played piano much better than I did, for them AND sang.  Look how much fun she’s having in that photo!

Lastly came Peter’s own choir that he leads on a regular basis.  And of course everyone was sticking very well to the all-Canadian theme and telling some of the histories of the songs as well, which was very enjoyable. That’s Peter in the first photo, at the end of the line following his choir to the stage.  I said to many that he reminds me of the 1970s songwriter/singer/comedian/actor Paul Williams –  not just his appearance and stature, but his vivacious energy and humour as well.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Williams_(songwriter)

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Finally, the great climax of so many months of planning, hours of rehearsing – the 150 Voices mass choir, also led by Peter.  Poor Marianne was way up back in the soprano section near me, and could hardly utter a sound by then, but it was so much her own brainchild that I know she still was thrilled. I told her after that she really needs to start planning to solve the peace problem in the world – I KNOW she could do it with just musical organizings such as this!  It was incredibly powerful to be singing those amazing anthems and compositions for 4 part harmonies with so many gifted singers!

Now, while I was way in the back, but happily positioned myself to be less squashed in than most, and also so that I could see Peter better, Richard, in his usual way, had somehow managed to wangle a spot RIGHT in front – and in front of Peter as well!

That first photo is JUST the soprano section (both 1st and 2nds), so you can imagine the power of the voices rising and falling, crescendoing and decresendoing as per the music and Peter’s very busy hands.  If you look carefully, you can see the big grin on my face, whenever my mouth wasn’t shaped in the appropriate ‘O’.

One of the tenors behind Richard captured him in this shot as well:

This was actually taken at the dress rehearsal that morning, though – which explains the empty seats in ‘the House’!

It was such an honour to sing with this large and strong group. Upon ending with the passionately patriot “This Is My Home”, there were several pairs of eyes with tears in them, including Peter’s when he talked about his enjoyment in leading this large a choir. Also, I know that the next day at church, several others in our New Denmark community who also sang with the 150 Voices said it was an experience-of-a-lifetime, and that they were so glad not to have missed out on it!

Too, it was a special event for Mom/Joy, because, though she didn’t sing with the mass choir, her alto contribution to the New Denmark Minstrels meant that she’s had TWO of those once-in-a-lifetime performances on very special days.  When she was just in public school in Tillsonburg her school choir sang for the Queen!  (HRH’s train simply pulled into the station and the choir sang from the platform, but still, that was a big choral day in Canada for Mom, and now in her senior years she can claim another first and only!)

The last story I must share with you is, of course, the reason for this post’s title.   You may have noticed that, to tie us more ‘formally’ together, I gave each of the Minstrels a ‘stole’ to wear of red, with a white-painted New Denmark flag on its right side, and a musical note or two on each.  I thought, even if we weren’t always singing together and at the same tempo (the Minstrels need to learn to ‘watch’ and to ‘listen’ to each other!) at least we’d LOOK like we were ‘tied-in together’.

Now, the only red fabric I had around the house when I got this last-minute brain-wave was left over from what I cut Chevy’s red polo wraps from, for the Founders’ Day parade.  And the cat had been sitting on THAT for a few weeks, all day long!  So it was full of cat hair, and Chevy’s two bandages had manure stains and horse hair and dried sweat all over them.  And when I cut up the remainder of the fabric, there just wasn’t enough for all of us, so I did have to use the polo wraps as well.  (I cut the ends of the other strips on the diagonal for a ‘finished look’, but didn’t want to cut the two polos because I might need them on Chevy again! So that meant that Richard and our minister, the tallest two, would have the dubious honour of wearing those as they were standing in the back and theirs could hang longer and not have the diagonal cut!)   Well, of course I washed all the strips, and hung them on the line to dry.  But as we all know, that isn’t enough to get rid of animal hair! So, on Friday morning before we left for all-day rehearsal, I meticulously vacuumed and Scotch-taped each strip, front and back.  Then painted them with the flag and notes.

On Saturday, no one complained about wearing them, which rather shocked me – they were all very compliant!  And I DID chuckle with them over their stoles’ origins, and the amount of work it took to get them acceptable, but I’m not sure Pastor Ralph Weigold heard me…

Because – yesterday morning in church he appeared coming down the aisle at a PARISH SUNDAY GATHERING (both N.D. congregations combined) wearing Chevy’s bandages AROUND HIS NECK on top of his lovely vestments and his green silk stole!  Now, I know he likes our horse, and considers him worthy of his prayers and concern, etc.  But I really just made those strips for a 7-minute performance at an outdoor event with most people in shorts and T-shirts! Yikes!  I was squirming in my pew, which of course got my hand wrapped by Mother Dearest.  But Pastor wore Chevy’s leg wrap through the entire formal service, communion and all, saying that he was proud of how well the New Denmark Minstrels had done on their debut performance, AND that he was proud to be a Canadian, still celebrating that on July 2nd as well.  Good for him.  God bless him!

  And now, as promised, here’s the lyrics to “Ida May”, dedicated to her daughter, Phyllis MacDonald (which I announced to the crowd on Saturday, but apparently she and her son, Bliss didn’t make it, so Richard and I may go over there and sing the 2-part harmony duet to her one day) .  In the last verse, the word “Bliss” is mentioned as a tip-of-the-hat to Ida’s grandson.  And the last spoken words, which Pastor Ralph himself read aloud, refer to “Feel Us” (the ghosts) which was as close to “Phyllis” as I could get within the context of the poetry/rhyme. (for the same reason I used 1870, although most N.D.ers came here in 1872 – it fit the meter/rhythm of the line much better!) .

"Ida May" - lyrics to original folk-song by J. Johnson, music written 1989, originally performed as "Katherine Fields" at Murphys Point Provincial Park My Danish name is Rasmussen But they call me Ida May My family came to Canada Which is where they now will stay. In 18 hundred and seventy We settled all the land In mountains high and valleys low Where the dark blue forests spanned spoken- man: Ida May, you'll marry me? I've cleared the land for you. woman: Oh, dear man, I'll marry you! Tho' I'm but 16, 'tis true! In a little cabin on Bluebell Road I moved in with my John 5 children came, we built more rooms And the years were quickly gone. I planted lilacs and apple trees We lived for fam-i-ly And then came the time I got too sick I was only thirty-three. spoken- girl: Mommy, Mommy -don't send me away! I don't WANT to live with Aunt! woman: child, go now, be at peace. to keep you all - I can't! But I gave my children all my love Before I passed away So young was I, so old a soul For my name was Ida May! *************************** refrain: Ida May! Ida May! Haunt me on a summer's day In the orchard where I play... Haunt my memory, Ida May! *************************** A hundred years have passed us by Since I left my girlhood thrills And went to start my home and farm In New Denmark's rolling hills. My life was short upon the earth But I float up here in BLISS I look down on my legacies And my breeze blows them a kiss. spoken-You are here, the ghosts of all we loved. Forevermore... FEEL US, children; feel us sing, The ghosts of those before... ****************************************************************** Here are Bliss and Phyllis. (Remember Ida May's story is at the Log Cabin Legends post, and another entitled Log Cabin Legends, Part II: Phyllis. Just type those tag words or titles into this blog's search engine and both posts should come up for you to read and enjoy!) HAPPY CANADA DAY!

The Pastor and the Polo Wraps Happy Canada Day!  Having lived and taught on 'the rez' for 4 years, I do understand how the indigenous people of our nation may feel about this 150th celebration.

[wineanddinosaur]

How Jimmy Buffet Accidentally Charted a Course From Margaritaville to Corona to LandShark Lager

Jimmy Buffett’s entry to the beer world happened quite accidentally, as you’d expect most things do in Buffett’s life. It was 1984 and the laid-back rocker was sitting in the office of his manager, Howard Kaufman. As Kaufman spoke on the phone with Corona’s marketing team, trying to get them to be the beer sponsor for another client, The Eagles, on their upcoming tour, Buffett interjected:

“Hey, I’d like Corona to be my sponsor, too,” he said.

It was a curious choice because, at the time, most American consumers saw Corona as more of a Mexican workingman’s beer; not some cut-loose, sand-in-your-toes, party pounder. But, upon inking a deal with Buffett, Corona quickly started incorporating the Margaritaville beach lifestyle aesthetic into its ads and promotional materials. According to Forbes, “Corona hired him to flog its Mexican brew to young, cash-fat consumers,” spending more than $2 million on a radio campaign starting in 1984.

In turn, Buffett’s fans, known as Parrotheads, committed themselves almost exclusively to the light cerveza at shows, where, during the song “Cheeseburger in Paradise” a sign would illuminate on stage showing Corona bottles with limes wedged in their necks.

“Go to a Jimmy concert today, look around, and you’ll say, ‘Wow, this is all Corona imagery,” says John Cohlan, the longtime CEO of Margaritaville Holdings, LLC, in Palm Beach, Fla. “But, you have to remember, it wasn’t always like that.”

Realizing that it had inadvertently stumbled upon lightning in a bottle, Corona went so far as to co-opt the title of Buffett’s seminal 1977 album, “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes,” for a subsequent campaign. “Change your whole latitude” was the motto in commercials and on billboards all across the country by 1992. Corona trademarked that line without even informing Buffett.

“That ended up being the most successful Corona ad ever,” explains Cohlan, who still isn’t sure whether Buffett is aware of what the beer brand had done.

Corona’s “Change your whole latitude” campaign co-opted the title of Buffett’s seminal 1977 album, “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.”

Corona’s sales had been declining as recently as 1991, but once it adopted the “latitude” tagline, in 1992, business was booming. “The sponsorship of Jimmy Buffett … helped create a fun-in-the-sun image for the brand,” AdAge wrote in 1998 as Corona had just ousted Heineken to become America’s top imported beer.

By 1999, when Corona finally scrapped the Buffett-based tagline, it was the nation’s 10th best-selling beer, seen as the quintessential “vacation in a bottle.” Today, it’s one of the only macro beers still trending upward in sales.

“And it was all based on this IP that came directly from Jimmy’s tour,” Cohlan says. “That made us start thinking … maybe we should quit Corona and do our own thing.”

Room for more than one ‘Vacation in a bottle’

“Woodstock for people who like to drink heavily.”

That’s what Cohlan jokingly calls the annual New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. It was there, in 1998, where he first met Buffett. At the time Cohlan worked with Triarc, a holding company that held shares in brands like Arby’s and RC Cola. Triarc had moved its operations to Florida in the early 1990s, and Northeast-raised Cohlan still wasn’t thrilled about it. But, as he watched Buffett perform for the first time, he had a revelation.

“I looked out and I saw all these people dressed up,” Cohlan says of Parrotheads’ signature, tropical-splattered beachwear, “and I said to myself, ‘This is more of a brand than the brands that we actually own.’ Buffett was their entire way of life.”

At the time, Buffett operated just three small Margaritaville restaurants in Key West, Fla., and Jamaica and didn’t seem that interested in expanding, especially after one foray into New Orleans had flopped. But, upon creating his role as CEO of Margaritaville Holdings, Cohlan brokered a deal with Seagram Spirits & Wine Group (which also owned Buffett’s label at the time, MCA) to license the name Margaritaville to a 20,000-square-foot space at the entrance to Universal Studios’ new Islands of Adventure theme park in Orlando.

When it opened, in May 1999, it was a massive success. The empire began rapidly expanding, with Margaritaville restaurants popping up all across the country.

Capitalizing on that success and, after angering Cohlan by releasing a sounds-a-little-too-similar Parrot Bay Rum, Seagram quickly issued a line of Margaritaville Tequila in 2000.

Buffett’s tour, meanwhile, was still sponsored by Corona. In 2006, as the 8th annual Orlando Beer Fest (held at Universal CityWalk) approached, Cohlan realized it was finally time to make a move. It was time for Buffett and Margaritaville to have their own proprietary beer for the restaurant chain and, perhaps, the world. (“Let’s take our beach back,” he recalls Buffett saying.)

Cohlan initially approached Corona about contract-brewing their beer, but, as he recalls, they told him, “No thanks. We already have a ‘Corona.’” They moved onto sponsoring Kenny Chesney.

So Cohlan called up his buddy Dave Peacock, then-president of Anheuser-Busch. Conveniently, they had been looking for a “Corona killer” for years, having already failed with two previous challengers, Azteca in the late-1990s and Tequiza, a tequila-flavored beverage that was about to be discontinued.

“Thankfully, [Peacock] said, ‘There’s room in America for more than one “vacation in a bottle,”’” Cohlan says.

No one wants to drink a ‘Lone’

Parrotheads were both angered he’d dumped Corona, then a little confused by who was making his new beer, but, ultimately, they fell hard for LandShark Lager, which burst onto the scene at Buffett’s Feb. 10, 2007 Tallahassee concert.

Initially, the brand had called it Lone Palm Lager — based on the name of a song from Buffett’s “Fruitcakes” album and the outdoor seaplane bar near Margaritaville — but the name just wasn’t resonating. As Cohlan explains:

“When we did consumer research, people would say “I don’t want to drink a ‘Lone.’”

Calling it Margaritaville Lager would have been a little confusing, too. So they started thinking about some of his other songs. Then, just like now, one of Buffett’s most popular concert performances was for “Fins.” It’s about a woman at a beach bar who feels like prey to all the men trying to aggressively pick her up. Before each live performance, audience members place their hands in the shape of a fin on top of their heads and start swaying back and forth while Buffett would call out: “The LandSharks are coming!”

They were already selling concert merch with LandShark logos on it — a fin with squiggly waves underneath it, palm trees in the background— and it wouldn’t be too hard to adapt that for a beer. It would come in a clear bottle, just like a Corona, and be an inoffensive and easy-drinking “island lager.” Its slogan, written on the spur of the moment by Buffett, was “Let the fin begin!”

Even in this highly skeptical era, when most people still don’t realize what “crafty” beers are owned by multinational conglomerates, folks were onto LandShark Lager right from the get-go.

The first-ever review of Landshark Lager on BeerAdvocate, in January of 2007, reads, “Looks very much like [Anheuser-Busch]’s version of Corona, right down to the bottle and marketing.” Another early review notes: “[Anheuser-Busch]’s latest attempt to bite into the Corona market in the sunshine state. It’s got the pee yellow color, snappy name, and clear bottle.” By March, The Palm Beach Post was reporting that “Buffett’s new beer masquerades as microbrew,” explaining:

“At first glance, LandShark looks like a microbrew that’s produced by Buffett himself. After all, the name alludes to the Buffett song Fins, the product is displayed prominently on Buffett’s Web site and the bottle says the lager is made by Margaritaville Brewing Co. of Jacksonville. But LandShark is brewed by Anheuser-Busch Cos. of St. Louis, although the nation’s largest brewer seeks a stealth role.”

(Cohlan claims Margaritaville simply licenses its name out to the brewery.)

Reviews of the beer’s quality were even more dismissive.

“Like a bad Corona,” wrote one online review. “Could maybe see drinking this on a dive boat in Mexico … And it would have to be 95 degrees, with the beer temp just above freezing.” Doug Blackburn, Tallahassee Democrat’s online beer columnist, wrote. “LandShark Lager lacks taste and flavor. At best, it qualifies as a lawn mower beer, a post-workout thirst quencher.”

Almost since the beginning, it has scored a pathetic 1 (out of 100) on RateBeer.com.

Yet, none of this seemed to matter to Parrotheads who quickly began switching their allegiances. “You dont even need a lime to make it better to drink. (sic)” wrote one fan on an early beer forum.

Thanks to Buffett’s devoted fan base, despite its dismal reviews Landshark Lager sells close to 4 million cases a year in America, which makes it a better seller at retail than Guinness. Credit: Landsharklager.com

Initially it was only available at Margaritaville restaurants, Buffett concerts, and in Florida, but it quickly expanded nationwide, sitting on store shelves and in gas station coolers right next to Corona. By the 2009 NFL season, the Miami Dolphins were even playing in LandShark Stadium, a move the football team thought would make game day a more “multi-entertainment experience” for fans. It looked like LandShark Lager had a real shot to become the “Corona killer.”

But then … it never really did.

In fact, I literally thought the beer was no longer on the market when I began reporting this story, but that’s not true whatsoever. It may have never taken down Corona, but it still became a pretty big player in macro beer, all in a bit of a weird, “Florida man” kind of way. That’s why, if you’re a guy like me, who mainly goes to craft beer bars in urban environments, you aren’t really going to ever see it.

Yet Landshark Lager sells close to 4 million cases a year in America, which makes it a better seller at retail than Guinness. (Though, not as good as Corona, which reportedly sold 65 million cases in 2017 and is today the fifth best-selling beer in America.) It also sells well in Canada and numerous spots in the Caribbean. It’s not just boomer Parrotheads buying it, either — there’s a college ambassador program that has led the brand to pick up steam among our nation’s newest beer guzzlers.

(And all this without a single TV commercial. In fact, Cohlan claims they spend less than $1 million a year on marketing, compared to the over $100 million per year Corona spends on advertising.)

There are also currently 12 LandShark Bar & Grills (in such far-flung places as Branson, Mo., and Tulsa, Okla.), not to mention LandShark bars on six different Norwegian Cruise Line ships. LandShark Stadium relinquished the naming rights after just one year — it’s called Hard Rock Stadium today — though a rewritten version of “Fins” still does play occasionally after touchdowns, while the concession stands serve plenty of the lager. The beer is not going away any time soon and Cohlan thinks it still has room to grow to 10 million cases per year.

You could argue this was the first real celebrity beer, way ahead of its time compared to today’s era when Metallica is now partnering with Stone, or the Grateful Dead with Dogfish Head. LandShark Lager does a helluva lot better than all those beers, too, and will almost certainly still be around when they are not. That’s the power of Buffett, as a musician, businessman, and beerman.

“It ultimately works because Jimmy created one of few true lifestyle brands in this country,” Cohlan says. “It’s not a celebrity beer. It’s not called Jimmy Buffett Beer, and that’s intentional. That’s to his credit. His art form created an entire lifestyle around his lyrics. About working hard, but being able to still escape and enjoy yourself. A person’s name is not a lifestyle, but a person’s art can be. That’s why LandShark Lager works. You look at other celebrity beers, and he dwarfed the curve.”

Meanwhile, even if LandShark Lager didn’t win the initial race, Buffett, the indefatigable businessman, is still looking for ways to beat Corona. In September of last year he announced plans for his own marijuana line. It will be called Coral Reefer.

The article How Jimmy Buffet Accidentally Charted a Course From Margaritaville to Corona to LandShark Lager appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/jimmy-buffet-corona-landshark-lager/