Glibertarians.com 2017 Archive

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  • The Importance of Political Parties

    Ronald Reagan switched from Democrat to Republican in 1962. Hillary Clinton was a member of the College Republicans before becoming a Democrat in 1968. Rick Perry switched from Democrat to Republican in 1989. Elizabeth Warren switched from Republican to Democrat in 1996. These examples illustrate the great importance of the political parties as a trustworthy sign of what a politician really believes.

    But political parties serve an even more important role: they tell us who we should reflexively hate. Without political parties, voters would be forced to evaluate politicians based on the results of their policies instead mindlessly rooting for their team. Chaos would inevitably ensue.

    And don’t get me started about 3rd parties. You shouldn’t vote for them because they won’t get enough votes. Circular logic is fun because circular logic is fun!

    This country has a two-party system. It says so right in the Constitution. I think it’s between the part that talks about the separation of church and state and the part that says only people in a well-regulated militia are allowed to have guns.

    Here’s how it works: if you vote and your candidate wins, your vote is an implicit agreement to whatever happens next. And if you vote for someone else and they lose, you agree to bound by the decision of the majority by participating in the election. And if you don’t vote, you have no right to complain because the only legitimate form of protest is to vote. So you agree to whatever politicians do whether you vote or not. This is called “consent of the governed.” It’s one of those phrases like “living dead” or “quiet riot” that sounds funny if you think about it too much.

    My advice is to only vote for flip-floppers. It’s the safest bet because statistically speaking, you’ll get what you want about half the time.

  • Wednesday Morning Links

    Wednesday “Sloopy Is Running Behind This Morning” Links coming your way.  Brought to you by the good people at oversleeping and alcohol.

    Carter Page

    In that first special election I was talking about yesterday, the republican won.  Don’t know if it was a moral victory forTeam Blue or not.  I only know that in things like this they use a scoreboard for a reason. The Libertarian got 2%. So at least we won’t get blamed for this one.

    So even the WaPo is sure that the Obama admin spied on a close Trump adviser now. The entire article, other than that fact, is full of retardation. Tread lightly.

    Big squaw got much wampum. Her look at national stage. Wage culture war on Orange Man.

    Stop ruining my last name, dude!

    In the latest version of “too little-too late”.

    Sean Spicer must have a pretty large and calloused dick. Because he keeps stepping on it without batting an eye.

    Blame this if the links were later than expected this morning.

  • Jewsday Tuesday

    The holiday most goyim know about is Hanukkah, mostly because it drops in the calendar at the same time as their big-deal holiday, Christmas. Too bad because Hanukkah is not only a lame little thing, it’s something no-one ever paid attention to until American Jewkids started whining about converting to Christianity because of the presents. Fuck Hanukkah, the real analog for the goyish holiday where everyone gets together, sings songs, drinks, and has family fights is Passover, or more correctly Pesach. And Pesach is a kick-ass holiday with a great back-story. The general backstory is pretty well known, and if you haven’t seen the sprawling epic The Ten Commandments, pour a few drinks and take in the splendor created by that notorious Jew, Cecil B. DeMille.

    Unlike most other Jew holidays, Pesach is not synagogue-centric, but mostly home-based. It centers on a large ritual meal called a Seder (Hebrew for “order,” which generally does not describe real Seders). Because the Seder is a ritual, there is, of course, a guidebook, in this case, called by the euphonious appellation “Haggadah.”

    The most obvious way that Pesach kicks ass is, not surprisingly, drinking. Part of the Seder ritual is the consumption of at least four glasses of wine per person, not including what you slurp down during dinner. This includes the kids, and until you’ve seen a shit-faced 8-year-old grab his Aunt Minnie’s tits and yell, “HONK! HONK!” you haven’t really experienced Pesach. The kids usually pass out shortly after this, which reminds the adults of why this requirement was traditionally put into the ceremony. The order in the Haggadah tries to space this out a bit, but the kids will still end up blowing a 0.15 BAC.

    Highlights of the ritual include singing songs of praise to Yahweh for killing a bunch of Egyptians. But hey, we show our sorrow by spilling a drop of wine for each of the Ten Plagues. 100,000 dead Egyptians, 10 drops of wine, seems fair. The fun part is intoning the names of each of the plagues as the drops are spilled- we do it in Hebrew because “Dom, Tsvardayah, Kinim, Arov, Dever..” sounds much cooler than chanting, “Blood, frogs, flies, darkness, cattle disease…”

    There’s a lot to choose from in the ceremony, but without a doubt, the best part was The Four Sons. Each son (with one exception) consisted of a question, which was then answered at length. Before you assume, no, the sons weren’t Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo, but rather Chachem (the wise son), Rasha (the evil son), Tam (the stupid son), and She’eino Yodaiah Lishol (the son who is too naive or young to ask a question). The questions start with “(son’s name), what does he ask?” or in Hebrew, “(son’s name), ma hu omair?” followed by the son’s question and the answer. For example, “Tam, ma hu omair? ‘What’s all this?’ You answer the dummy by saying. ‘Yahweh sprung us from Egypt and killed a shitload of them.’” Or something like that. I have a sentimental attachment to this ritual because inevitably when the reader started with “Rasha, ma hu omair?” (the evil son, what does he say?), everyone’s head would turn to look in my direction.

    The answers to the remaining three of the Four Sons’s questions are pretty much what you’d expect. To the Evil Son’s, “Why do you even bother with this” the answer is to punch him in the mouth and tell him, “it’s because of what Yahweh did for me. Not for you. I’m not sure what the fuck you’re on about.” To the Wise Son’s, “What are all the laws, rules, and histories here?” you answer, “OK, hope you’ve got a few minutes, this is a long story…” then tell him all of the odd little rules and practices, interspersed with a history lesson. The Son Who Is Too Naive To Ask, well, just answer the question you wish he had asked, and tell him that Yahweh kicked 16 varieties of ass and sprung us from slavery.

    The other fun ritual for the kids is the Ransom of the Afikomen. Y’all know about matzo, right? It’s like a large Communion wafer with even less flavor. Early in the Seder ceremony, a matzo is broken into thirds, and one of the thirds is wrapped up and set aside. Because we have a different word for everything, it’s called an afikomen, which loosely translates as “dessert.” Having a piece of matzo for dessert is just one more way we like to fuck ourselves over. Part of the ritual demands that the afikomen be used to end the meal and that the ceremony can’t end until the afikomen is eaten. So we train our kids to recognize a business opportunity, and they ritually steal the afikomen and hide it, demanding a ransom payment to produce it so the adults can finish up the ceremony and drink more wine (two glasses are supposed to follow the afikomen consumption). Our favorite hiding place was in my grandfather’s filing cabinet, under “A” for “afikomen.” We were not the most creative of children. In any case, the kid’s grubby little hands are greased with lucre, the afikomen is produced, and many Hebrew and Aramaic songs are sung.

    Theoretically, the Seder of 1971 has not ended, because our Dalmatian sniffed out the afikomen hiding place and ate it while we were all busy opening the door for Elijah (who was, as usual, a no show). The Bible and the Talmud make no mention of what to do in these circumstances.

    Unfortunately, all things Pesach have gone sharply downhill since I was a kid. Let’s start with the Haggadah itself. In the finest American mercantile tradition, the overwhelmingly most common Haggadah was published by… Maxwell House Coffee. Just about every American Jew Family had a set of them, typically stained with wine and food from previous years. And really, they were quite good, having both the traditional Hebrew/Aramaic text and on the facing page an English translation. For very common prayers, there was even a transliteration of the Semitic so that the benighted few who hadn’t attended Hebrew school could join in.

    But, given that the main religion of contemporary American Jews is liberalism, you can predict what happened. Yes, they “revised” the Haggadah. A mere few thousand years of tradition cannot withstand the onslaught of Social Justice Warriors. The New and Improved Maxwell House Haggadah is “inclusive” and “gender neutral.” The Four Sons has transmuted to “The Four Kinds of Children.” And sometimes a Fifth is added, the oppressed child. Yahweh is no longer a King, he xe is a Monarch. Yahweh is also no longer a Father, but a Parent. It takes a lot to de-ball Yahweh, but the SJWs managed.

    It gets worse.

    One of the Pesach rituals is an unattended glass of wine for the prophet Elijah, just in case he shows up. Think “milk and cookies for Santa.” The SJWs, of course, find this intolerably sexist, so put out TWO cups, the other one for Maryam, mother of Moses. Because you never know.

    Woke Jews will place Fair Trade coffee beans on the Seder plate to symbolize… something. They will also place an orange on the plate, not as you might think to symbolize Donald Trump, but to honor LGBTQ3M# Jews. Because Biblical Era Jews were all about tolerance and acceptance of homosexuality, right? If you’re going to do social signaling, might as well get Vitamin C with it.

    Alternative Haggadahs are a big deal now. Here’s the Four Sons told in the Earth Justice Haggadah (I am not making that up!):

    The Wise Child: This child knows that climate change is real and that they must act to combat its effects. The Wise Child has read that global temperatures and sea levels are rising every year, that more species are becoming endangered, and that more communities are experiencing extreme weather events and decreased crop viability. The Wise Child sees all this and is motivated to combat climate change in any way they can.

    The Wicked Child: The Wicked Child has read about climate change and is aware that scientists predict a whole range of negative effects if we don’t reduce global carbon emissions. But the Wicked Child doesn’t think the issues caused by climate change apply to them. They believe climate change will only affect the poor and the vulnerable in places they will never visit. They remain unconcerned.

    The Simple Child: The Simple Child is overwhelmed by the idea that humankind could be radically altering the entire face of the earth. They don’t believe it’s possible that scientific predictions are accurate. This child simply ignores the evidence that the problem is real at all.

    The One Who Does Not Know How to Ask: This child is much more like The Wise Child than we may typically imagine. The One Who Does Not Know How to Ask has also read about climate change and knows that environmental degradation and the effects on the global population are a real and present threat. Unlike The Wise Child and much more like the Simple Child, this child is overwhelmed. How is this possible? This child might ask, How can I, alone, prevent this global catastrophe?

    If Global warming isn’t your fashion statement in social signalling, you can also have Haggadahs centered on Conflict Minerals, LGBTQ (make sure you read the new prayer, “We’re Rainbow Folk” and have that orange out), Unions, Palestinian Arab issues (what’s the blessing for suicide bombers?)… anything on the Progressive menu. Fuck the actual meaning of the holiday, we have to show solidarity, resist, make our voices heard, and no better way to do this than by refocusing Pesach on our own moral preening.

    OK, so what do we need to do here? My personal opinion is to troll troll troll. Wear a MAGA yarmulke. Bring along a BLT, toss it on the Seder plate, and point out that it’s just as traditional as the Fair Trade coffee beans. Blow out all the candles, pointing out that they’re contributing CO2 to global warming. Grab Maryam’s cup, lament that they didn’t fill it to only 70% of Elijah’s, chug it, and yell, “OK, grab her pussy!” Ask loudly, “How do you get a Jewish girl’s number” and when you get blank looks, roll up your sleeve and point to your arm.

    Your problem of what to do for next year’s Progressive Seder will solve itself.

     

  • Tuesday Afternoon Links

    Happy I Got Nuthin’ Tuesday.

    • South Korea seeks to assure citizens that the US will not strike North Korea preemptively. I can’t decide which Animal House clip will be more correct at this time next year — (A) or (B)
    • Lol, can’t tell whether Notorious RBG is senile or just fired off a sick burn.
    • How we can blame Canada for AGW! Any of my professors would have chewed my ass if I submitted that first chart on an assignment.
    • How crazy was 2016? The Cubs raised the Championship flag for 2016 last night. As someone who cheered the Cardinals during my stint in IL, this hurt to watch.
    • If you only work on your malware during the traditional workday, Symantec thinks you’re a CIA hacker. But you could be the Walter White of hacking.
    • 3D printing titanium. Plus, the process is called rapid plasma deposition.

    And for music, Suicidal Tendencies. I always loved their sense of humor.

  • The ‘Oxford Comma’ Decision and Why it Was Wrong

    Oxford campus courtyard, comma not pictured

    By Square = Circle

    Grammar Nazis are like shamans – always hated and outcast until they are desperately needed.

    There have been several recent stories about the Oakhurst Dairy case, which was decided by a debate over the so-called ‘Oxford comma,’ which English professors are supposedly charmingly obsessed with, but which is too arcane for normal citizens to understand.

    As a former college English teacher who moved into a profession in which I frequently deal with the often-incomprehensible intricacies of labor law (i.e. construction management), I am here to disabuse you of the notion that it is the grammar rules, and not labor law itself, that suffer from being over-arcane.

    The case involves rules governing which labor classifications do and don’t get overtime pay, and hinges on whether, in the text of the law detailing overtime exemptions for various dairy workers, the phrase “for shipment or distribution” modifies the word “packing” or whether “packing for shipment” and “distribution” are two different items in a list of trades exempted from overtime rules. If the former, those who distribute the dairy’s products are not exempt from overtime rules, only those who pack are. If the latter then those who drive the trucks are exempt, too. The union, unsurprisingly, argued the latter and prevailed upon appeal (meaning overtime pay for distribution, but not for packing).

    Exemptions of this kind are common in fields where work comes in surges rather than being predictable day-by-day.

    The most-publicized rationale behind the decision was that since there is a comma before “packing,” “packing” could be the final item in the series, modified by the rest of the clause, since that’s how you would interpret the sentence if this comma were an ‘Oxford comma,’ i.e. a ‘serial comma’ preceding the final item in a list, so that the last item is “packing for shipment or distribution.”

    Presumably, there’s follow-up logic that says “and since there’s controversy over the ‘Oxford comma’ the rule is ambiguous and per state law ambiguities are to resolve in the employee’s favor.”

    But while the different varieties of comma (such as serial vs. parenthetical, the two that are relevant here) have superficial resemblance (i.e. they use the same mark on the page), their functions are entirely different, and they should not be confused, any more than the ‘th’ in “fathom” should be confused with the ‘th’ in “Chatham” (pronounced “Chat-ham”).

    This may seem a pedestrian observation, but it is just such a confusion that underlies the wrong decision in this case.

    The recent article by A. Barton Hinkle, for example, which I link above, eagerly utilizes amusing examples of misused parenthetical commas to show how ambiguity in commas can seriously affect meaning (if one doesn’t know the context and/or is a little dim), such as ““When @LouiseMensch reported on the FISA tap, she included details that implicated Putin’s own daughters, Carter Page and Paul Manafort.”

    If we pretend that the comma after ‘daughters’ is a parenthetical comma, rather than a serial comma, it sounds like the sentence is saying that Carter Page and Paul Manafort are Putin’s daughters.

    While these examples can be fun, they don’t have anything to do with serial commas, which don’t impact meaning. The “Putin’s daughters” example is one in which a serial comma could be read as a parenthetical comma – if one doesn’t know anything at all about the context of the sentence. It is the structure of the sentence, not the lack of the comma, that creates that ambiguity.

    The ‘Oxford comma,’ as it’s known to stuffy people who wear tweed, is specifically a superfluous serial comma added after the penultimate member of a series: “the flag is red, white, and blue.” The comma after ‘white’ is the ‘Oxford comma’ and is now considered by many to be over-fussy as it pointlessly doubles the function of the conjunction. “The flag is red, white and blue” is in no way less clear, and while style guides of the 1950s encouraged comma usage (“when in doubt, do”), style guides of the 1990s did the opposite (“when in doubt, don’t”).

    Regardless of how you feel about the ‘Oxford comma’ and whether it is acceptable to omit it, the reason the jury in the Oakhurst Dairy case decided wrongly is that the real grammatical requirement is that no matter how long or complex the series is the final member of the series grammatically requires a conjunction. “The flag is red, white, blue” is ungrammatical, as is the union’s interpretation of the clause that is at issue in the lawsuit.

    As noted above, we are being asked to take the phrase ‘for shipment and distribution’ as a modifier of ‘packing.’ That means we can remove that element of the sentence and the sentence itself will remain grammatical. Here is the sentence if we remove that modifier:

    “The canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing of agricultural produce. . .”

    vs. the not-ungrammatical

    “The canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing or distribution of agricultural produce. . . .”

    While ambiguities are to be construed in favor of the employee, I see no ambiguity here. If there were an ‘and’ or ‘or’ between ‘storing’ and ‘packing’ then it would not be ambiguous whether you use the ‘Oxford comma’ or not: “The canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, or packing for shipment or distribution of agricultural produce. . . .” This version also lacks the ‘Oxford comma,’ yet somehow manages to be perfectly unambiguous in the packing being “for shipment or distribution.”

    Because it’s about the conjunction, not the comma. The ‘Oxford comma,’ like Communism, is a red herring.

    But as with so many things, the whole stupid debate could be avoided by simply getting the government out of the equation. My understanding is that Maine has a style guide for laws explicitly stating that they don’t use the ‘Oxford comma,’ yet this standard isn’t applied consistently, so the courts couldn’t use it. Legislators are not motivated by pragmatism (or competence), their decisions don’t have to pass the workability test, and they will not be held accountable for their failures. In politics, it is about the gesture, not the result. A law was made mandating overtime pay universally, and then myriad exceptions had to be carved out of it because, as the Devil once said, “one law for the Lion and the Ox is Tyranny.”

    Even in a collective bargaining situation, had the Dairy simply been able to negotiate directly with the union without a body of poorly written but ‘well-intended’ legislation to try to interpret, hundreds of thousands if not millions in legal fees could have been saved, and perhaps even distributed to the workers by way of resolving the negotiations.

    In fact, absent the labor laws the points in dispute would likely have been directly and explicitly negotiated, rather than silently passed over because both parties thought they understood a pre-existing regulation and so never discussed it.

    But I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for the lawyers and legislators to decide that repealing these regulations would be a ‘pragmatic’ development.

  • Once You Go Black…

    By But I like cocktails and lurking

    I am not a big fan of beans, or at least I didn’t used to be. Then I discovered black beans. I never cook with any other bean. They are less grainy, more flavorful, and heartier than other beans. They just have more substance. They can make a stand alone meal, a side dish, or compliment any main dish. Let us explore the magic of this under appreciated hero of the bean world.

    Black Bean Dip

    Not as tasty as this recipe.

    1 15oz can of unseasoned black beans
    3 strips of bacon microwaved just short of crispy (3 minutes on high then 30 second intervals until done)
    1/3 sweet onion
    2 chicken boullion cubes
    ½ teaspoon crushed garlic
    ½ teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

    Pre-grated cheddar cheese
    Fresh chopped tomato
    Sliced pickled jalepeno

    Put all ingredients into a blender or food processor. Blend on high until it has a smooth consistency. Use a silicone spatula or spoon to scrape into a small oven-safe dish. Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes or until you see bubbling. It is essentially re-fried black beans made in ¼ the time.

    Top with grated cheese, chopped tomato, chopped fresh red onion, and a few jalepeno slices. Dip with corn chips.

    This is a recipe for two people. Double if you have more people. My wife and I will whip this up, usually on a Sunday evening, sit in front of the TV and watch a movie while we eat. It makes quite a satisfying meal.

    Bean Dip As A Compliment

    If I make a taco salad, enchiladas, tacos, nachos, or any similar dish, I use the black bean dip as a foundation for all of the other ingredients. I simply spoon it onto the shell/tortilla before putting the meat on. It is a wonderful complimentary flavor.

    Black Bean Soup or Black Beans and Rice

    Put all of the same ingredients into a pot. No processor this time. You can put one pork neck bone instead of the bacon if you like, otherwise slice the bacon into 1 inch sections and toss in raw. Chop the onions yourself. Toss a few slices of jalepeno in. Thin with 1-2 cups of water. Bring to a boil, turn down to simmer, and cover. When the meat comes off of the neckbone easily, it is done (about one hour). Pull the meat off of the bone with your fingers and put back in the pot. Toss the bone to the dog. Serve over rice. If you thinned it down with water to a soup, serve over rice in a bowl. If no rice, then with Ritz crackers or corn chips. If you left it thick enough, you can spoon over rice on a plate. This can also be served as a nice complimentary side dish to any non-soup main dish.

    Very little effort and time is required for these recipes and the payoff is sweet.

  • Tuesday Morning Links

    I was mostly out of touch with the news yesterday.  Wrapped up in my own world of work, taking the family to the zoo for a few hours, power washing the pool deck and making dinner.  Looks like I missed a lot too.  Let’s recap, shall we?  Which means…the morning links.

    Good luck against that, Kim.

    The most reckless of nations vows to respond to “reckless” American Navy, which is moving a strike group into the area.  Unless the Norks have got one of those nukes ready, I can’t see them doing anything more than staging something and reporting it on state TV and then executing a few of their own military leaders by mortar.  But this Kim is crazier than the last couple of Kims.  So stay tuned.

    Democrats hope to cash in on unpopularity of Trump in a series of special elections that will start in Wichita, Kansas.  The article goes into a lot of math about “moral victories” even if Team Blue doesn’t win any of the elections, according to pollsters and analysts.  And if there’s anything we can count on, its those guys accurately predicting electoral success and adjusting polls to really capture the pulse of the nation.

    VDH pens another blistering takedown of Susan Rice.  From Benghazi to Bergdahl, he touches all the bases.  And its just brutally delicious.  Enjoy!

    Buckle up, buckaroo!

    Caitlyn Jenner is now dong-less.

    Hope they were an agonizing four seconds (give or take…I’m sure one of the more scientifically literate among us can come up with an accurate elapsed time). Defendant in triple murder, rape, kidnapping (etc etc etc) case decides to take justice into his own hands with leap from courthouse balcony.

     

    The three largest nations in CONCACAF launch a joint bid for the 2026 World Cup.  I guess Canada had to figure out a way to qualify that they could actually accomplish. (I keed! But not really.)

    A little Deep Purple for y’all.

     

  • Manly Monday

    Some links mildly NSFW*

    I have it on good authority the that snow is melting rapidly on the SoCal ski slopes, but before it does I figured I’d get in a crack about biathletes. I figure everyone here can get behind a sport comprised of skiing and shooting things AND as a National Siblings Day bonus we have the Fourcade brothers. Now Martin is ostensibly the better biathlete, and he’s not hard on the eyes either, but I’d let Simon eat crackers in bed. He’s got a great body, likes to show off (I dare not do more than happy baby on a paddleboard), is very photogenic and knows it. He balances goofy and sexpot with aplomb, much like other jesse.in.mb favorite Chris Pratt. It doesn’t hurt that he’s perfectly happy to bare dat ass.

    I’m not sure why, but he was photographed twice for the Dieux Du Stade calendar, this year (see link for “aplomb”) and in 2015 where he posed on a 55 gallon drum (because Santa came early…and so did jesse.in.mb).

    *Specifically biathletes (woman) and shooting (women), sexpot (man), aplomb (man), dat ass (man) and 55 gallon drum (man).

     

  • Monday Afternoon Links

    Happy Monday. Sloopy got his pool painted, I’m getting someone out to handle mine. Because although I have a degree in Chemical Engineering, I don’t care to fuck with it when someone else can handle it cheap. Specialization, its not just for insects!

    • Wells Fargo will be taking $75M back from former executives who fostered a culture of fraud. Funny, no word about the key bad player seeing any sort of legal consequences.
    • I think Lord Humungus will be safe from this — I can’t even say it with a straight face– hybrid Ford High Speed Police Interceptor. I’m sorry, but the Ford Fusion will never strike terror into my heart.
    • Of all the bad ideas I’ve heard about US-Iran relations, backing the Shah’s son for a return to Iran may be the worst.
    • Whoa, shit, did I set the alarm clock too early? Bears in Sierras confused at all the white stuff on the ground as they emerge from hibernation. I blame AGW.
    • Run walk away! Brain eating parasite spread by snails in Hawaii.

     

  • Moonshine and Communism

     

    So I wanted to try the whole guest post business on this fair website, and decided to go for something with local, well… flavour, if you will. A bit on the always popular booze with a little bit of commentary on government. And here it is.

    Romanians enjoy the local hooch, to the surprise of nobody, which some translate plum brandy (although brandy comes from wine, but you can have plum wine as well, I suppose), but locals call it ţuica (the diacritic t is actually a pronounced like the ending of ants) and variations thereof are fairly common round the east of Europe and variously called palinka, slivovitz, or rakia. You get the idea.

    Tuica Still

    Like many a Romanian, I occasionally partake of the stuff, though my taste generally goes for Islay malts. And I can assure you, fellow libertarians, that it is proper moonshine made in an unlicensed still with no business of the government in the making. Some of the more skittish western folk think this dangerous or unwise. It is not. I have yet to know people having trouble from this. More often, cheap knockoff vodka causes issue, but tuica makers often are skilled and proud of their craft. Is there no bad stuff? Of course there is, but not if you know the people making it or what to buy.

    Making decent plum moonshine is surprisingly easy, in fact. My grandma used to make some on a small still on the stove in a small Bucharest apartment kitchen. My parents occasionally make some on a small still in their yard. I took part in some of that myself, and I buy it from people who make larger quantities. It’s about 5 of your American dollar per litre (yes, litre, like civilised folk measure things).

    My grandfather was from the Pitesti region of Romania, one of the famous tuica producing regions. My family still has some land there with a couple hundred or so plum trees, hence the predilection of my family to make tuica. When we visit the area in autumn, we pick some of the plums and distill them, more for the sake of it really, based on the effort it would be easier just to buy.

    This region produces a lower alcoholic version, which many prefer, because you can drink a higher quantity of liquid for the same drunkenness level. People spend time talking and drinking, so the glasses add up. In Transylvania or Moldova, people are partial to 40, 50, or sometimes even 60 abv. But I usually drink the 25 – 30 abv stuff from Pitesti, mostly mulled in winter (with a bit of sugar, pepper, cinnamon, and whatever else you want to throw in it).

    Plums. Obviously

    My grandpa’s family had a bigger plum orchard before the glorious regime of the proletariat. They also had a pub in the city of Pitesti. Those days, most common folk that drank in pubs drank tuica as their spirit of choice or country wine. Other spirits were for the fancy people with high incomes, and beer was not as common as today. My grandfather’s pub sold their own tuica and barter wine.

    Many poor people these days drink cheap, counterfeit plonk called “whiskey like alcoholic beverage,” or “tequila flavour beverage,” or just grain alcohol, cheap vodka, and there are people who blame this for bad health and alcoholism. They speak of the good old days when people drank tuica and wine and were more healthy, although this has a tinge of nostalgia for Merry Old Romania and bucolic fantasy.

    There was not much wine being made in the immediate region, but reasonably close were some wine regions. So every autumn, the family would load the oxcarts (trucks were more expensive and the roads not great in 30s Romania) with barrels of tuica and started slowly for the wine areas, and bartered it for wine. The wine areas themselves made a cheaper moonshine from pomace left over from wine grapes, but most preferred the plum stuff.

    The reason Pitesti is a tuica area, well one of the reasons besides people drinking lots, is the fact that it is a high plain or low plateau that is fairly dry and has permeable rock strata, so the water aquifer is pretty deep. That and poor soil meant agriculture was not efficient for many crops. But plum trees, for some reason, thrived in the area. That worked from time immemorial (which is anything more than 100 years give or take) until the great planned economy of Mr. Ceausescu kicked in.

    You see the area, on maps at least, is sometimes called the high plains of Pitesti. And when communist officials read a map they thought, like all reasonable people would think, plain means growing wheat. And as such, after collectivisation of the land into the fabulous agricultural cooperatives, a lot of plum trees were taken out in order to plant wheat. As the savvy reader may imagine based on the story, wheat did not exactly thrive there. But communists were nothing if not perseverant in their folly. So it went on for a while. This is one of those situations where the good ideas of communism were improperly applied, or something.

    Look, if you can’t tell the difference between plum blossoms and cherry blossoms…

    After regime change, communism was replaced with the faux social-democratic-kleptocracy that is characteristic of the present. The plum trees were replanted and tuica came back; although it never fully left, just decreased in quantity and quality. As you could not find much in stores, there was quite the demand for alcohol during communism. There were stories of drinking medicinal alcohol – filtered in various ways to get rid of the vivid blue colouring and eventual toxic components. A bottle of imported Whiskey was better than money. Much better.

    After grandpa got the land back, he replanted plum trees. He was living in Bucharest by then, and never did much with the orchard, so I think it was more nostalgia than anything else. After he died, the orchard was less maintained by us Bucharest dwellers, we just payed a local to do some basic maintenance. But I still have a couple of hundred “family” plum trees somewhere, should I choose to ditch the day job and get in the tuica making business. I can then smuggle it in the US, and sell it to make my fortune.