To the comfortably cynical American, surely the so far capable and competent Communist Party leadership will deal with their problems? The current slowish growth is only a pause on the Chinese upward curve to global leadership. America, by contrast, is finished. Congress is crazy and dysfunctional and Trump is leading the Republican presidential pack.It is far too easy to underrate America’s future. After dealing with the Kaiser, the Great Depression, the Nazis, Imperial Japan, the Soviet Union and OPEC in the 20th century, as well as launching Marshall Aid, the Civil Rights movement and the Great Society and the Reagan Recovery, these current problems are not exactly overwhelming for the republic. Unless the current American generation is so signally different from its forefathers, America can deal with these problems.One major difficulty for the America and the whole of the West, is that with the modern media you see pretty much everything in the West, warts and all. This actually is a feature of the vigor of the West, but within Western countries and outside the West, the exposing of corruption, venality and dysfunctionality in bright media lights gives the appearance of weakness and that appearance of weakness underpins a narrative of Western decline.
The artisan whiskey industry has a big secret—many of the ‘small-batch’ distillers are actually buying their product from a large factory in Indiana.
Read the promotional materials for the Rancho de Los Luceros Destilaría and you form an image of a supremely artisanal effort. The distillery creates “small batch heirloom spirits handcrafted in New Mexico.” Each batch of their rye whiskies, vodka, and gin is “individual and unique,” and “each bottle is hand bottled and hand marked with batch and bottle number.”
These are the standard selling points of the craft-distilling movement, with its locavore lingo, terroir talk, and handmade hype. But, in the new crowd of micro-distillers, it is now standard for the alcohol being sold to come not from their own distinctive stills, but from a hulking factory in Indiana.
Lawrenceburg, Indiana (not to be confused with bourbon-locale Lawrenceburg, Kentucky) is home to a massive brick complex that cranks out mega-industrial quantities of beverage-grade alcohol. The factory, once a Seagram distillery, has changed hands over the decades and was most recently acquired by food-ingredient corporation MGP. It is now a one-stop shop for marketers who want to bottle their own brands of spirits without having to distill the product themselves. MGP sells them bulk vodka and gin, as well as a large selection of whiskies, including bourbons of varying recipes, wheat whiskey, corn whiskey, and rye. (They also make “food grade industrial alcohol” used in everything from solvents and antiseptics to fungicides.) Their products are well-made, but hardly what one thinks of as artisanal. And yet, much of the whiskey now being sold as the hand-crafted product of micro-distilleries actually comes from this one Indiana factory.
Upstart spirits companies selling juice they didn’t distill rarely advertise the fact. But there are ways to tell: whiskey aged longer than a distillery has been in business is one of the telltale signs that the “distiller” is actually just bottling someone else’s product. KGB Spirits, the company behind the New Mexico “destilaría,” was founded in 2009; but its flagship Ceran St. Vrain straight rye whiskey comes with an age statement of 15 years in the barrel. Or take Breaker bourbon, the “first bourbon produced in Southern California since Prohibition.” The Buellton, California company behind the brand, Ascendant Spirits, wasn’t started until 2013. Yet, they brag their “ultra small batch bourbon” is aged 5 years. So how do you open a distillery one year and have 5- or 15-year-old whiskey to sell the next? Not by making it.
“I have purchased hundreds of barrels of rye and bourbon from them,” John Bernasconi admits when asked about the Indiana factory. A principal in the New Mexico company, Bernasconi says that purchasing whiskey from MGP and bottling it is “a means to develop a brand and help fund the next step” of actually distilling a unique product. It may be a sensible enough business strategy, but as whiskey writer Charles Cowdery points out, “There’s no reason to think anyone knows how to make whiskey or can learn how to make whiskey based on buying whiskey.” Cowdery has been railing for years against the proliferation of what he calls “Potemkin distilleries,” many of which own shiny new copper stills to wow visitors, but actually sell factory-made spirits they’ve acquired in bulk.
High West hopes to make the transition, at least in part. The Park City, Utah distillery has been celebrated for its well-aged rye whiskies and its bourbon-and-rye blends, all of which come from the Indiana factory, as owner David Perkins readily acknowledges. High West makes some un-aged spirits and they are currently aging some whiskey of their own, but they have no plans to stop using the whiskies available from Lawrenceburg. “Since MGP whiskey is [more than] 80 percent of my revenues, it might be silly to wean myself off of that,” Perkins says. “I don’t think my employees would like the pay cut!”
Part of the problem is the competition. MGP has plenty of aged whiskey ready to go in the bottle right now. An upstart distiller has to buy a still and learn how to use it; then buy all the ingredients and actually ferment and distill them; buy barrels and build or lease warehouses in which to put them; and then sit on the investment for years. Todd Leopold, master distiller at Denver’s Leopold Bros., has managed to do it. But how much easier, he says with disdain, for those who just buy whiskey off the shelf and market it. “All that they do is hire salespeople, make up a BS story, and boom, they look like a distillery,” Leopold says.
Dozens of new brands are packaging whiskey bought in bulk from Indiana. But it isn’t the only source. Some recently launched whiskey brands, such as the much-hyped WhistlePig Rye (which touts the product as “hand-bottled” on a Vermont farm), get their product from a factory distillery in Canada. Others are picking up cast-off barrels from high-volume Kentucky “macro-distillers” who occasionally find themselves with more whiskey than they can sell under their own labels. But Cowdery warns that the newbie “distiller” shouldn’t count on finding brilliant whiskies in the barrels being shed by the big brands: “They’re not getting rid of their best stuff.”
The Indiana distillery, by contrast, does sell its best stuff, because MGP Ingredients doesn’t have any brands of its own. Originally, the rye that was made there had a particular purpose—as a component to “flavoring whiskey” in the Seagram’s Seven Crown blend. But it turns out that the rye in MGP’s warehouses, when not used for blending, is very good whiskey all on its own—one more reason why the industrial product is behind so much of the “craft” rye revolution.
So! Byssus is made from “pen clams”. Which are in serious decline and endangered. Sad
how to spin a byssus thread
Source: how to spin a byssus thread
Silk is usually made from the cocoons spun by silkworms – but there is another, much rarer, cloth known as sea silk, or byssus, which comes from a clam.
The item, laid by a Buff Orpington hen – described as the "Scarlett Johansson of the chicken world" – attracted 64 bids, but the identity of the winner is not yet known.
Waves were turning to slush, so Nimerfroh started taking photos of the Slurpee waves and the images started going viral Thursday.
She often photographs the crows and other birds, and she lost her lens cap in a nearby alley a few weeks ago while photographing a bald eagle.
When she returned home, the lens cap was sitting on the edge of the birdbath.
Mann checked video from the surveillance camera she set up to record the birds and spotted a crow bringing the lens cap into the yard, walking it to the birdbath, and then rinsing it off.
“I’m sure that it was intentional,” she said. “They watch us all the time. I’m sure they knew I dropped it. I’m sure they decided they wanted to return it.”
Every single work of art—every single institution, every group—can’t be about every person. Inclusivity should mean that every person is allowed to have a dialogue with it, to interrogate it, comment on it, and have the space to create their own art or institution or group to stand beside it. (If you think The Vagina Monologues is terrible, write as many op-eds saying so that you want, but don’t stop its production.) It’s also true that every college can’t serve the needs of every single potential student. Women’s colleges are still allowed to exclude certain applicants based on gender because there’s still a need for their exclusionary existence. Transexclusion and transphobia are serious problems, but they are different from the problems most women in America—who are born women, raised in environments where people recognize only two genders, and are punished for the simple fact of their biology—continue to face. After all, those of us born with a vagina and uterus are the only ones who can be forced to carry a pregnancy to term by the anti-abortion laws sweeping the nation.
"Women are now asked to live by second-wave feminist principles, until, boom, they’re informed that they need a man no less than women ever did," writes Phoebe Maltz Bovy in the Atlantic.
Meanwhile, straight men are not judged in the same way: Marry young and you’re obviously more responsible than your peers; reach your 35th birthday unmarried and that’s no problem, you’ve still got all the time in the world. While there are good reasons to urge women not to marry too young ("the stability of marriage in upper-middle-class circles likely owes something to premarital trips around the block," Bovy writes)