Stumptown Graffiti Wall

It always impresses me what intelligent drunks hang out at Stumptown. Oh, the pleasures of a man with a big........mind.

beerbitch
USA - Tuesday, December 05, 2000 at 19:51:53 (PST)

Along with the ever present Gay Awtuay jokes-I thought something thought provoking would be interesting...
This is not the work of a wise man, but only an opinionated player with a gambling habit. ... That is a risky mix that will sooner or later lead you to cross the wrong wires and get shocked, or even burned to a cinder. On some days you will be lucky and only break your fingers and make a fool of yourself. But, luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it. I have never believed much in luck, and my sense of humor has tended to walk on the dark side. The truth is the funniest joke of all.
This eerie presidential election has been a painful experience for Gamblers. Almost everybody lost. Even if you were crazy or dumb enough to bet on a dead-even Tie, you lost, because it was 537 votes short of it. The many Losers don't feel the pain yet, because they are still in Shock & Denial. The rumors in Washington are that Gore's most trusted advisors have sealed him off so completely that he still firmly believes he won. ... Which is True, on some scorecards, but so what? Those cards don't count. ... George W. Bush is our President now, and you better start getting used to it. He didn't actually steal the White House from Al Gore; he just brutally wrestled it away from him in the darkness of one swampy Florida night. He got mugged, and the local Cops could give a damn.
Where did Gore think he was -- in some friendly Civics class? Hell no, he was in Florida, arguably the most Vicious & Corrupt state in the Union. ... Not only that, but he was brazenly invading Florida, trying to steal it from right under the noses of the whole Bush family. It was a bold move & brilliantly done, in some ways -- but then so was Lee's decision to invade the North & attack Gettysburg, right?
C'mon, Gore was Doomed in Florida, and he knew it about halfway through Election night. The TV wizards had already given the state & its 25 precious Electoral Votes to Gore, which gave him an early lead and caused this wild orgasmic rejoicing in Democratic headquarters all over the country.
My own immediate reaction was a weird confusion & surprise, and I think I almost believed it. ... But not really. The more I thunk on it, the more I was troubled by waves of queasiness & shudders of doubt not unlike a Saturday morning after 10 Mirrorponds. I felt like I had just heard a dog speak perfect English for 30 seconds. Some people get permanently de-stabilized by something like that: Nothing they see with their own eyes will ever look quite the same to them again.
There was one precise moment, when I knew for sure that Al Gore would Never be President of the United States, no matter what the experts were saying -- and that was when the whole Bush family suddenly appeared on TV and openly scoffed at the idea of Gore winning Florida. It was Nonsense, said the candidate, utter nonsense. ... Anybody who believed Bush had lost Florida was a Fool. The Media, all of them, were Liars & treacherous whores trying to sabotage his victory. Of course Bush would win Florida. Losing was out of the question. Here was the whole flippin’ family laughing & sneering at the dumbness of all of us believers right there on National TV. The old man was the real tip-off. The leer on his face was almost frightening. It was like looking into the eyes of a ugly hyena with a live sheep struggling in its mouth. The sheep's fate was sealed, and so was Al Gore's. ... Everything since that moment has been political gibberish.
The whole presidential election, in fact, was rigged and fixed from the start. It was a gigantic Media Event, scripted & staged for TV. It happens every four years, at an ever-increasing cost & 90 percent of the money always goes for TV commercials.
Of course, nobody would give a damn except politics is beginning to smell like professional football as of late. And that's a problem that could haunt America a lot longer than four years, folks.
I am watching more NFL football this year, but sometimes it feels like I’m enjoying it less and less. There is something wrong behind the game, something is missing, but I can't quite say what it is. No weekend goes by without at least one wild & exciting game, plus one or two shocking upsets -- but somehow they all seem vaguely meaningless, like flat warm beer.
I thought I had solved all my problems when I bought a satellite thus finding a way to watch every game, every Sunday, all at once or separately. I have everything, right at my fingertips. I miss nothing. My friends called me "the clicker," because of my speed and infatuation with the channel switcher. They drop by on Sunday to drink beer, fart and eat. It’s like an impossible dream come true. But still there seems to be something crooked. I sometimes secretly dread the coming of Sunday, although I never admit that to anybody. It’s too weird.
Only after long brooding have I discovered the obvious answer. It is the dangerous thinning of the NFL talent pool. There are too many teams and not enough quality players. The League is destroying quarterbacks faster than the colleges can crank them out. Every pro team must have two quarterbacks minimum, because one of them is certain to get stomped by some steroid-crazed monster who weighs 388 pounds and runs faster than Randy Moss in the flat and is desperate to inflict some pain. He will lose the ‘spotlight’ if he doesn't, “No Nike for you”. The next MVP of the Super Bowl is just as likely to have been a full-time grocery store bagger last year as a Heisman Trophy winner. The teams change names & locations every year without remorse (speak up now Vikes fans…). Even the winning coaches get fired on the whim of some new billionare boy/owner. Players come & go like substitute teachers or half-bright fasion models turned actress. Players have taken to beating their wives in public, getting busted with coke & hookers…ohhh & and getting arrested for Murder. But the games go on like clockwork and the money keeps pouring in. ...most stadiums are sold out every Sunday. But only rich people can afford to attend the games in person. Gee…it's not much different from getting involved in National Politics.


Disgruntled E
USA - Wednesday, November 29, 2000 at 10:04:14 (PST)

Yum yum!
Intrigued
USA -

I guess the night bartender Atway finaly made it from being a slap away from sucking ----! To actually hittin' the chub! Congrads on your new found sexuality!

Dissapointed!
USA - Saturday, September 02, 2000 at 17:11:13 (PDT)

Hi guy's!
I really miss the gang. There really isn't a viable
subsitute. One look at the web site lets me know the levity is still present. I hope the pane will be the first brick in the road to redemtion.
Regards,
Scotty

Scotty
USA - Saturday, September 02, 2000 at 15:44:20 (PDT)

I am an avid beer drinker. I would love to know how to make beer at home. Any advice?
Bob Bambury
Ft Lauderdale, Fl USA -

A Brief History

If you have not ever considered it, here's
what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence:

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured
before they died. Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost
their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were
farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated. But they
signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be
death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships
swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay
his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his
family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his
family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty
was his reward. Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall,
Climber, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson Jr, noted that the British General
Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged
General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died
bankrupt. Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed
his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13
children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to
waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to
find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from
exhaustion and a broken heart.

Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates. Such were the stories and
sacrifices of the American Revolution. These were not wild-eyed,
rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education.
They had security, but they valued liberty more.

Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged: "For the support
of this declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the divine
providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and
our sacred honor." They gave you and me a free and independent America.
The history books never told you a lot about what happened in the Revolutionary
War. We didn't fight just the British. We were British subjects at that time and
we fought our own government!

If you will, take some time this weekend on your 'free' days off to consider these sacrifices
and all we take for granted living in this free country.

It is easy to jump on the negative bandwagon,
but in truth, the people who choose to are usually the one's who don't vote or
use their voice to change things for the better. Be active.

After all these years and changes in our lifestyles and culture, it sometimes seems that
we have somehow gotten a bit confused. Patriotism is not a sin, and the
Fourth of July has more to it than beer, picnics, and baseball games (but, those are fun too, right?!).

Oh, Pete-Austrailur is O.K. too...EB
Big ol'E
Northwood, ca USA -

Subject: FW: ENJOY THESE COOKIES!
NEIMAN-MARCUS COOKIE RECIPE:
My daughter and I had just finished a salad at a
Neiman-Marcus Cafe in Dallas and decided to have a small dessert. Because
both
of us are such cookie lovers, we decided to try the "Neiman-Marcus cookie."
It was so excellent that I asked if they would give me the recipe
and the waitress said with a small frown, "I'm afraid not but, you can buy
the recipe."
Well, I asked how much, and she responded, "Only two fifty,
it's a great deal!" I agreed with approval, just add it to my tab I told
her.
Thirty days later, I received my VISA statement and it was $285.00. I
looked again and I remembered I had only spent $9.95 for two
salads and about $20.00 for a scarf. As I glanced at the bottom of the
statement, it said, "Cookie Recipe - $250.00"
That was outrageous! I called the Neiman's Accounting Dept. and
told them the waitress said it was "two-fifty," which clearly does
not mean "two hundred and fifty dollars" by any *POSSIBLE* interpretation
of
the phrase.

Neiman-Marcus refused to budge. They would not refund my money,
because according to them, "What the waitress told you is not our
problem. You have already seen the recipe. We absolutely will not refund
you money at this point."
I explained to her the criminal statues which govern fraud in
Texas. I threatened to refer them to the Better Business Bureau
and the State Attorney General Office for engaging in fraud.
I was basically told, "Do what you want, it doesn't matter, we're
not refunding your money." I waited, thinking of how I could
get even, or even try and get any of my money back.
I just said, "Okay, you folks got my $250, and now I'm going to
have $250.00 worth of fun." I told her that I was going to see to it
that every Cookie lover in the United States with an e-mail account has a
$250.00 cookie recipe from Neiman-Marcus...for free. She replied, "I
wish you wouldn't do this." I said, "Well, you should have thought of that
before you ripped me off," and slammed down the phone on her.
So here it is!!! Please, please, please pass it on to EVERYONE
you can possibly think of!!! I've paid $250 for this...I don't
want Neiman-Marcus to *ever* get ...another penny ...off of this recipe. .
. .



NEIMAN-MARCUS COOKIES
(Recipe may be halved)
2 cups Butter
2 cups Sugar
2 cups Brown Sugar
4 Eggs
2 tsp. Vanilla
4 cups Flour
5 cups blended Oatmeal***
1 tsp. Salt
2 tsp. Baking powder
2 tsp. Baking soda
24 oz. Chocolate Chips
1 8 oz. Hershey Bar (grated)
3 cups Chopped Nuts (your choice)

***Measure oatmeal and blend in a blender to a fine
powder.
* Cream the butter and both sugars.
* Add eggs, and vanilla, mix together with flour,
oatmeal, salt, baking powder, and soda.
* Add chocolate chips, Hershey Bar and nuts.
* Roll into balls and place two inches apart on a cookie
sheet.
* Bake for 10 minutes at 375 degrees.
* Makes 112 cookies.


PLEASE READ IT AND SEND TO EVERY PERSON YOU KNOW WHO HAS AN
E-MAIL ADDRESS Have fun!!! This is not a joke -- this is a true
story.
Betty Crocker
Mayberry, RFD USA - Tuesday, June 06, 2000 at 12:48:33 (PDT)

Here's a note for Carla Booger,
To clean a toilet: Pour a can of Coca-Cola into the toilet bowl. Let the
"real thing" sit for one hour, then flush clean. The citric acid in Coke
removes stains from vitreous china. To remove rust spots from chrome car
bumpers: Rub the bumper with a crumpled-up piece of Reynolds Wrap aluminum
foil dipped in Coca-Cola. To clean corrosion from car battery terminals:
Pour a can of Coca-Cola over the terminals to bubble away the corrosion. To
loosen a rusted bolt: Applying a cloth soaked in Coca-Cola to the rusted
bolt for several minutes .... To bake a moist ham:
Empty a can of Coca-Cola into the baking pan; wrap the ham in aluminum foil,
and bake. Thirty minutes before the ham is finished, remove the foil,
allowing the drippings to mix with the Coke for a sumptuous brown gravy ;
To remove grease from clothes: Empty a can of Coke into a load of greasy
clothes, add detergent, And run through a regular cycle. The Coca-Cola will
help loosen grease stains. It will also clean road haze from your windshield
:
Yummy.
The active ingredient in coke is phosphoric acid. Its pH is 2.8. it
will dissolve a nail in about 4 days ... The distributors of coke have been
using it to clean the engines of their trucks for about 20 years...
Drink up, Blondie.

Hole2
Groinyville, Ca USA - Tuesday, May 16, 2000 at 11:01:12 (PDT)

A professor of mathematics sent a fax to his wife.
Dear Wife,
You must realize that you are 54 years old and I have
certain needs that you are no longer able to satisfy.
I am otherwise happy with you as a wife and sincerely
hope that you will not be hurt or offended to learn
that by the time you receive this letter, I will be
at the Grand Hotel with my 18-year-old teaching
assistant. I'll be home before midnight.
Your Husband .................
When he arrived at the hotel, there was a faxed
letter waiting for him that read as follows:

Dear Husband,
You too are 54 years old and by the time you receive
this letter, I will be at the Breakwater Hotel with
the 18-year-old pool boy. Since you are the mathematician, you will
appreciate the fact that 18 goes into 54 more times than 54 goes into 18.
Therefore, don't wait up.



E
USA - Thursday, May 11, 2000 at 13:50:22 (PDT)

Hey all-
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I
had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying,"Hello?" I politely said, "This is Eric Bakker and could I please
speak to James Gold?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me!
I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down
Goldies's correct number and called him. He had transposed the last two
digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Goldie, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person once
more answered, I yelled "You're an asshole!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "asshole," and put it in a desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I'd call him up. He'd answer, and I'd yell, "You're an asshole!" It would always cheer me up. Later in the year the Phone Company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the asshole.

One day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his
voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!" The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it.

The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camaro come flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that, Buddy. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy's an asshole, here sure a lot of assholes in this world. I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.

A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just
gotten off the phone after calling and yelling, "You're an asshole!"
(It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.)

I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying
on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too. after a couple rings
someone answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the
black Camaro for sale?" "Yes, it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It's a yellow house and the car's
parked right out front." I said, "What's your name?" My name is Don
Hansen." "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home in the
evenings." "Listen Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes,"
"Don, you're an asshole!" And I slammed the phone down.

After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer. For
a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a
problem I had two assholes to call. Then, after several months of calling the
assholes and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it
used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution:

First, I had my phone dial asshole #1. A man answered nicely
saying "Hello." I yelled "You're an asshole!", but I didn't hang up. The asshole
said, "Are you still there?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Stop calling me."
I said, "No." He said, "What's your name, Pal?" I said, "Don Hansen."
Hesaid "Where do you live?" "1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow
house my black Camaro's parked out front." "I'm coming over right now,
Don. You'd better start saying your prayers." "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole!" and I hung up.

Then I called asshole #2. He answered, "Hello." I said, "Hello,
asshole!"

He said, "If I ever find out who you are..." "You'll what?" "I'll
kick your butt." "Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now, asshole!"
And I hung up.
Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was
at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as
he got home. Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W. 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing.

Watching two assholes kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter is really a good ol' time.


Big Ol' E
USA - Thursday, April 27, 2000 at 09:34:54 (PDT)

dude you got a great bar
from us
santa rosa, ca USA - Tuesday, March 07, 2000 at 18:38:48 (PST)

I entered this pub last friday and the bartender was, i must say , the best i have ever encountered! He made me feel like i was at home. he never stopped making me laugh and he offered to buy me a beer. What a great thing to see in a world full of bad attitude barkeeps. Keep this one for a long time.
excited beer drinker
santa rosa, ca USA - Tuesday, March 07, 2000 at 18:33:03 (PST)

We visited your outfit a week and a half or so before holloween and enjoyed the atmosphere, brews and conversation. We were going to return for the holloween celebration, but ended up taking our tent and selves on to Tuscon. Checking out brewpubs along the way. We are anxiously awaiting the birthing of your first brew!!!!
Anyway hope to hear good stuff about what your doing in the future. See ya....Randy and Laurie
Randy Kreifels
Bellingham, WA USA - Friday, November 19, 1999 at 18:51:38 (PST)

First, a quote from the Bible:
"He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of his name. This calls for wisdom. If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man's number. His number is 666."
Revelation 13:16-18
Next,
Did you know that Bill Gates' real name is William Henry Gates III? Well, if you take all the letters in Bill Gates III and then convert it into ASCII code (American Standard Code for Info. Interchange) and then add up all the numbers.... you will get 666, which is the number of the beast.
B = 66, I = 73, L = 76, L = 76, G = 71, A = 65, T = 84, E = 69, S = 83, I = 1, I = 1, I = 1.
Add these numbers and they equal 666.
Coincidence? Perhaps....
Maybe, but take Windows 95 and do the same procedure and you will get 666 also. And even MS-DOS 6.31 adds up to 666.

goddess of poultry
- Friday, November 19, 1999 at 11:57:02 (PST)

Great site!I can see pictures of my favorite bar even thousands of miles away. Keep on rockin & Drink some beers for me.
To all my Stumptown Pussy Cats,Peter too,and all those Stumpy Pimps, I MISS YOU! Not the ankle biter though.
Stay dry, I won't be! love, VP-V
Vela
somewhere south, Ca USA - Sunday, October 24, 1999 at 10:56:12 (PDT)

Thanks again for your tremendous hospitality last Monday night. You've got a great place; We enjoyed sampling the local brews and throwing a few darts. We're looking forward to coming back, hopefully it won't take ten years this time. We'll be watching this site for your brewery's christening.
Dennis and Jan
San Diego, CA USA - Wednesday, October 06, 1999 at 14:37:34 (PDT)

Hey,
In the immortal words of Washington Irving (1859) "They who drink beer will think beer." Dammit.
Big ol' E.
Monte Rio, Ca USA - Saturday, September 04, 1999 at 11:19:59 (PDT)

Since the dawning of time, man has strived to take pride in his work and his life. Here we have a fine individual who has take this and broken the oppression of the modern shackles that bind us all and taken pride in his experience that is life. Well done Peter David Eugene Hackett, you are a model to all who wish to love their job. Rock Rock Chic Chic
Nathan Mark
Bris Vegas, QLD Australia - Thursday, July 29, 1999 at 16:40:49 (PDT)

I LIKE BEER. BEER IS GOOD. I LIKE STUMPTOWN. STUMPTOWN IS GOOD. STUMPTOWN IS BEER. Nice site Peter. The only thing missing is the smell, and Eric.
JOE
Hacienda, USA - Tuesday, July 20, 1999 at 16:17:47 (PDT)

Nice to see you've a REAL irish stout on tap now...How about a shameless plug for the Beer Drinker's Union, Local 86.(...hic)
Jim Weaver
Guerneville, CA USA - Thursday, April 08, 1999 at 13:41:31 (PDT)

"It's been a while but we're back online ..."
It's about time!
Stumptown-AU-GO-GO -- I'll mark my calendar.
Kai Herd
East Guernewood, CA USA - Friday, March 26, 1999 at 20:13:09 (PST)

Hey Pete! Great Website. Excellent links. Looking forward to sampling the local product. Thanks for including pics of Blue Gringo. Jason Blore was one-of-a-kind. We all miss him
Jonathan Grossman
Sherman Oaks, CA USA - Wednesday, December 30, 1998 at 15:54:38 (PST)

Hello, I'm so happy to see someone replaced bulbs in the sad, lonely string of twelve lights around the top of your building. It gives me something cheerful to look at. I'm one of your neighbors,....we enjoy having you here....you liven up this dead old place. From your neighbor...across the street, down a bit to the right. ilikelites, Karen
karen fogg
Guerneville, ca USA - Friday, September 04, 1998 at 12:43:50 (PDT)

Subject: Science Project
Twinkies

In an effort to clarify questions about the Twinkies' purported source of nutrition and food source, and to determine the durability and unusual physical characteristics of Twinkies, I subjected the Hostess snack logs to the following experiments.
EXPOSURE

A Twinkie was left on a window ledge for 4 days, during which time an inch and a half of rain fell. Many flies were observed crawling across the Twinkie's surface, but contrary to the hypothesis, birds (even pigeons) avoided this potential source of substance.
Despite the rain and prolonged exposure to the sun, the Twinkie retained its original color and form. When removed, the Twinkie was found to be substantially dehydrated. Cracked open, it was observed to have taken on the consistency of industrial foam insulation; the filling, however, retained its advertised "creaminess".
RADIATION

A Twinkie was placed in a conventional microwave oven, which was set for precisely 4 minutes (the approximate cooking time of bacon). After 20 seconds, the oven began to emit the Twinkie's rich, characteristic aroma of artificial butter. After one minute, this aroma began to resemble the acrid smell of burning rubber. The experiment was aborted after 2 minutes and 10 seconds when thick, foul smoke began billowing from the top of the oven. A second Twinkie was subjected to the same experiment; this Twinkie leaked molten white filling. When cooled, this now epoxy-like filling bonded the Twinkie to its plate, defying gravity: it was removed only upon application of a butter knife.
EXTREME FORCE

A Twinkie was dropped from a ninth-floor window, a fall of approximately 120 feet. It landed right side up, then bounced onto its back. The expected "splatter" effect was not observed. Indeed, the only discernible damage to the Twinkie was a narrow fissure on its underside; otherwise, the Twinkie remained structurally intact.
EXTREME COLD

A Twinkie was placed in a conventional freezer for 24 hours. Upon removal, the Twinkie was not found to be frozen solid, but its physical properties had noticeably "slowed". The filling was found to be the approximate consistency of acrylic paint, while exhibiting the mercury-like property of not adhering to practically any surface. It was noticed that the Twinkie had generously absorbed all of the freezers orders.
EXTREME HEAT

A Twinkie was exposed to a gas flame for 2 minutes. While the Twinkie smoked and blackened and the filling in one of its "cream holes" boiled, the Twinkie did not catch fire. It did, however, produce the same "burning rubber" aroma noticed in the radiation experiment.
IMMERSION

A Twinkie was dropped into a large bucket filled with water, the Twinkie floated momentarily, then began to list and sink. Viscous yellow tendrils ran off its lower half, possibly consisting of a water-soluble artificial coloring.
After 2 hours, the Twinkie bloated substantially. Its coloring was now a vary pale tan (in contrast to the yellow, urine-like water that surrounded it). The Twinkie bobbed when touched, and had a gelatinous texture. After 72 hours, the Twinkie had increased roughly 200 percent of its original size. The water had turned opaque, and a small, fan-shaped spray of filling had leaked from one of the "cream holes". Unfortunately, efforts to remove the Twinkie for further analysis were abandoned when, under light pressure the Twinkie disintegrated into an amorphous cloud of debris. A distinctly sour odor was noted.
SUMMARY OF RESULTS

The Twinkie's survival of a 120 foot drop, along with some of the unusual phenomena associated with the "creamy filling" and artificial coloring, should give pause to those observers who would unequivocally categorize the Twinkie as "food". Further clinical inquiry is required before any definite conclusions can be drawn.

Willard P. Darwin, Jr.
Baltimore, MD USA - Thursday, July 16, 1998 at 19:07:58 (PDT)

Peter, you 'dickhead criminal with a bad attitude', it's about time for some updates! You could at least let us know if the doctors have fixed that embarrassing rash you picked up in San Francisco!
Christian
Chicago, IL USA - Thursday, April 16, 1998 at 17:11:20 (PDT)

Nice bar, but watch out for Stumpy the attack dog! --an innocent bystander, lucky to still have all her fingers
Me
USA - Monday, April 13, 1998 at 23:26:36 (PDT)

nice place to bad about the foriegner i like the smell of your bathrooms fire the dick head criminal with the bad attitude
Bob Lob
USA - Saturday, February 21, 1998 at 15:44:05 (PST)

What's with all the Police hanging around your brewery? I came by for a brew last night, but was afraid to come in.
ain't telling!
Guerneville, CA USA - Sunday, February 08, 1998 at 11:25:46 (PST)

It was a Sunday night early in November (Halloween decorations still up), we stopped in for a pint. The X-files were on TV. The barkeep gave us water for our dog, Daisy, and we watched some weather channel as a storm was brewing. Who was this bartender? We have a present we want to send him.
Barrett, Mindy & Daisy Dog
Sparks, NV USA - Wednesday, December 31, 1997 at 20:14:25 (PST)

How come there's no pictures of Alex on the dog page???
Ziggy
USA - Friday, November 14, 1997 at 20:13:11 (PST)

Hello.
Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.
Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the"loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.
I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.
Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength.
In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment. When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd.
Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to:
M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."
This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.
There can be only one.

Willard P. Darwin, Jr.
Baltimore, MD USA - Friday, November 14, 1997 at 17:18:26 (PST)

I've entered an artistic phase. Last Tuesday our professor, he's like just the smartest person on the whole Earth, like he told us like just everything there is to know about Haiku. It's like this poetry thing they do -- it's Soooooooo Groovy !!! Like I've evolved so much in tune with the Cosmic Continium, I even do my own now. You shoud try it, it's like super easy.


Grotesque pinkish mass
In a blue can on a shelf
Quivering alone

Like some spongy rock
A granite, my piece of Spam
In sunlight on my plate

Oh Argentina!
Your little tin of meat soars
Above the pampas

The color of Spam
is natural as the sky:
A block of sunrise

Little slab of meat
In a wash of clear jelly
Now I heat the pan

Oh tin of pink meat
I ponder what you may be:
Snout or ear or feet?

In the cool morning
I fry up a slab of Spam
A dog barks next door

Pink tender morsel
Glistening with salty gel
What the hell is it?

Ears, snouts, and innards,
A homogeneous mass
Pass another slice

Cube of cold pinkness
Yellow specks of porcine fat
Give me a spork please
Old man seeks doctor
"I eat Spam daily", he says.
Angioplasty

Highly unnatural
The tortured shape of this "food"
A small pink coffin

Slicing your sweet self
Salivating in suspense
Sizzle, sizzle..Spam

Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain
Vegetarian

Michelle Pfieffer
Beverly Hills, CA USA - Monday, October 27, 1997 at 19:35:57 (PST)

Great bar / brewery, but trash the bloody hopeless nipple-ringed bongo player and his tattoo'd groupie!
Christian
Chicago, IL USA - Sunday, October 26, 1997 at 13:29:23 (PST)

Then it was Satan that gave us the sticky bit.
Thank you Satan: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
Tammy Faye Baker
Springfield, TN USA - Saturday, September 13, 1997 at 10:41:06 (PDT)

In the beginning, God created the bit. And the bit was a zero.
On the first day, he toggled the 0 to 1, and the Universe was. (In those days, bootstrap loaders were simple, and "active low" signals didn't yet exist.)
On the second day, God's boss wanted a demo, and tried to read the bit. This being volatile memory, the bit reverted to a 0. And the universe wasn't. God learned the importance of backups and memory refresh, and spent the rest of the day (and his first all- nighter) reinstalling the universe.
On the third day, the bit cried "Oh, Lord! If you exist, give me a sign!" And God created rev 2.0 of the bit, even better than the original prototype. Those in Universe Marketing immediately realized that "new and improved" wouldn't do justice to such a grand and glorious creation. And so it was dubbed the Most Significant Bit. Many bits followed, but only one was so honored.
On the fourth day, God created a simple ALU with 'add' and 'logical shift' instructions. And the original bit discovered that -- by performing a single shift instruction -- it could become the Most Significant Bit. And God realized the importance of computer security.
On the fifth day, God created the first mid-life kicker, rev 2.0 of the ALU, with wonderful features, and said "Forget that add and shift stuff. Go forth and multiply." And God saw that it was good.
On the sixth day, God got a bit overconfident, and invented pipelines, register hazards, optimizing compilers, crosstalk, restartable instructions, micro interrupts, race conditions, and propagation delays. Historians have used this to convincingly argue that the sixth day must have been a Monday.
On the seventh day, an engineering change introduced Windows into the Universe, and it hasn't worked right since.
Michelle Pfieffer
Beverly Hills, CA USA - Saturday, September 06, 1997 at 12:54:54 (PDT)

Neat page, Pete.
Paula
Brisbane, Q AUST. - Sunday, August 24, 1997 at 00:34:23 (PDT)

that Clooney guy that pulls handles on monday night sure is awesome!!! But the friday night clooney with the funny accent & nipple rings is even cloonier!!! Too bad about the glass eye though...
Michelle Pfieffer
Beverly Hills, CA USA - Monday, August 04, 1997 at 17:15:02 (PDT)

I used to live down the road there in Hilton Grove. Maybe someone will remember the name. It's been since 1960 and I've lived all over the world but the Russian River is still home to me and I do miss it so.
Chris Scott
Aloha, Or. USA - Sunday, August 03, 1997 at 17:29:18 (PDT)

I think your all a bunch of sour pusses. I think it's great that some young and hipp dudes are finally making a start for themselves and ending their lives on welfare giving the children of today something to look up to. Ha.
Nedrick
Brisbane, QLD Australia - Thursday, July 31, 1997 at 00:29:26 (PDT)

Who is this George Clooney everyone keeps talking about? I've never heard of him.
War On DOS Committee
Guerneville, CA USA - Sunday, July 13, 1997 at 10:01:00 (PDT)

how about an update on what is happening???
jeannette
australia - Wednesday, June 11, 1997 at 21:17:57 (PDT)

The beer is as wet and cold as a kiss from hans.
Matt Stubbs
Sydney, NS Aus - Monday, May 12, 1997 at 19:04:15 (PDT)

So this is where Peter HAckett got to!! Send me the application for brewmaster!
Ian Stewart
gOLD cOAST, qQ Australia - Wednesday, May 07, 1997 at 01:51:03 (PDT)

The new bar is great!!! I've never seen so many George Clooney lookalikes in one bar! But that Thursday night bartender, well...he's the Clooniest!!!
nobody
noplace, ca USA - Thursday, May 01, 1997 at 23:22:21 (PDT)

Go looking for a good beer, and the rulemakers/politicians upset the brewmaster.
Maybe the civil libertarians have a point.
Alan Blake
St. Louis, Mo USA - Sunday, April 27, 1997 at 20:57:56 (PDT)

I get it. First the licence, then Willis and Stallone drop by, then lo and behold"Planet Stumptown" is born with the inevitable worldwide 'neon re-furbishments'.
Demi gets in on it and we all have to put up with Stumptown Brewery merchandising all over the goddam planet (including her own creation, the "Don't call me Stumpy" T-shirt). And you guys get fat, laughing.
Brilliant!
Hackett
Sydney, Australia - Sunday, April 27, 1997 at 16:41:54 (PDT)

In heaven there is no beer/That is why we drink it here
Jeannette Button
melbourne, victoria Australia - Tuesday, April 15, 1997 at 19:45:17 (PDT)

Is it true about dogs being surrogate children. What is the liklehood of you guys ever actually producing some drinkable ales from that establishment, a lot of talk not much drinking. Stubbsy has thrown his job in here in Australia and hopes to fill the position of Brewmaster at Stumptown, he has some interesting theories on sour milk based beers.
Victor Browner
sydney, NSW Australia - Sunday, March 30, 1997 at 22:04:20 (PST)

What do you mean by "vi" powered? You mean like, the editor with the same cursor controls as nethack? I never knew you could use vi as an energy source. I'd always thought you had to plug the machine into the wall to make it run, or hook it up to a whole room full of brine pickles stuck with nails..
Kai Herd
Guerneville, CA USA - Sunday, March 30, 1997 at 13:31:16 (PST)

We're planning a trip down to northern Cal and would take great delight in patronizing your establishment and meeting the infamous "Stumpy". I'm very interested in hearing about your ongoing progress.
So long from the microbrewery capital of the northwest.

Sincerely yours,
P.J
(beer is food)
P.Jared Nelson
Seattle, WWwa USA - Saturday, March 29, 1997 at 20:54:16 (PST)

We're going to need a brewmaster pretty soon!
Things are finally falling into place and we expect to be brewing sometime in May. The deli and pub should be open early next month.
If you are a brewmaster looking for work, let me know. If you know of a brewmaster looking for work, let him/her know. Thanks.
Stumptown, CA, USA - Sunday, March 23, 1997 at 12:46:26 (PST)