I’m Back

We have arrived in the North Country, and it’s almost harvest time.  My first time in both Minnesota and North Dakota.

By the way, you may now call me the Reverend Ass.

Somehow more than three weeks have passed since I posted last.  That’s just not right.

I am currently drinking a Unibroue Edition 2004 that I found in a clearance cart at the “bottle shop.”  (That’s the only place you can buy beer or any other liquor in Minnesota and North Dakota.)  The place I’ve been does have a pretty good selection, though.  They’ve got all the Rogue ales (I will buy the Imperial IPA at some point!–it’s $12).  I’ve been mostly drinking Leinenkugel’s though.  Not bad at all.

Well, that’s probably (more than) enough random thoughts.  Something more substantial is on its way…




Today was the last day of the quarter, and I managed to get everything done today so that when my final class was over, the work was done.  This has been probably the hardest quarter of school I’ve ever had, as far as lack of free time goes.  Hard to believe it will be one more quarter and done.  But in light of this past quarter, I reproduce a Latin quotation which seems so apt at the end of every quarter:

Nunc scripsi totum, pro Christo da mihi potum.

[“Now I have written everything, for the sake of Christ give me a drink”]

And, I did.  It was perhaps the best thing I have ever made with my own two hands, and maybe my favorite beer ever: an Imperial IPA that has been sitting in my basement since August.  So smooth, so hoppy, so excellent.  It was a dark, couldn’t-see-through-it beauty.  Thank the Lord for this creature beer.

I first read this in First Things in 2001–as it was in the May issue, it must have come very close to the end of my school year then–in RJN’s “While We’re At It” (to the greatness of which all blogs should aspire!):

A medieval monk, it is said, worked all day on a manuscript, finally writing in the margin, Nunc scripsi totum, pro Christo da mihi potum—I have now written everything, for the sake of Christ give me a drink. That I was told by an author whom I invited over for a drink at the house when he delivered his article. It may be true. At the end of some days it is certainly apt.


“Will Someone Take Me To a Pub?”

A Ballade Of An Anti-puritan

G.K. Chesterton

They spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward–
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored–
I rose politely in the club
And said, `I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?’

The new world’s wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can’t afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub–
I want a mash and sausage, `scored’–
Will someone take me to a pub?

I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God’s last word–
Will someone take me to a pub?

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub–
Is that the last of them–O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?