Snooze in the News: A Delaware man is really bad at burgling. But awfully good at drinking. Bradley M. Furchak is currently being held at Sussex Correctional after a Long Neck, Delaware woman awoke to find her house broken into, and the alleged perpetrator snoring on her couch, having consumed several beers from her own supply. When voice-threatened, Furchak- despite his lapse in stealing judgement- had the wherewithal to hang on to one of the beers as he fled the scene. He was soon after taken into custody, where he was quickly sobered to the crushing fact that he lived in Delaware.

105 in the pink: When most of us think of pink wine, a $2.95 bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill comes to mind. Or perhaps Sutter Home White Zinfandel, if you last name happens to be Rockefeller. So imagine is someone took that money out of the mason jar you'd been saving to visit Branson and blew it on one bottle of pink wine? It's feasible. Badass blogger Katie of Gonzo Gastronomy recently delineated the latest from Provence's Château D'Esclans: a bottle of rosé retailing for $105. Sure, it's small production. Yeah, it's complex. Of course it's produced by son-of-wine-royalty Sacha Lichine. But you know what's it's not? 34 bottles of Strawberry Hill. And when Molly Hatchet is busy flirtin' with disaster through the blown-out speakers in your Trans-Am, you know you can't drink just one.

Going Commando: True, sometimes alcohol leads to lewd and destructive behavior. Governator, we saw the writing on the wall years ago...

Don't have any particular stories here about Charlie Sheen. But, as dedicated Booze in the News staffers, it's our duty to recommend you follow the alcohol-and-drug-fueled grease fire as it progresses: http://twitter.com/CharlieSheen

Railroaded: Sad country songs have long cornered the market on extolling the virtues of alcohol as a means to "ease the pain". I mean, nothing hurts more than your woman cheating with your best friend the same day your dog runs away, your truck breaks down, and Red Man introduces "passionfruit" flavored chew. All of this compounds into the equivalent of being hit by an emotional locomotive. Can anything hurt more, warranting the numbing power of booze? Yes: being hit by an actual locomotive. That's what happen to a Saskatoon (Saskatchewan) man as he was walking down the tracks on February 10. Police report finding the man walking after the incident in an intoxicated state. He "did not seem to realize what hit him... however, indicate[d] he had pain in several parts of his body." The man was treated and found to have no serious injuries. The painkilling effect of booze came through in spades, but I guess they always say that Canadian beer is much stronger.

Atlas Shrugged: The man who holds the wine world upon his booze-pickled shoulders may quietly be at the epicenter of a major shakeup in California. Recently (according to Vinography.com) Wine Advocate founder Robert M. Parker announced that he will be handing over the reviewing duties for California wine to his associate, Antonio Galloni. A little history: Parker is widely-known as one who gives very high scores to big, rich, massive wines with dense fruit and structure. Subsequently, wines that get high marks from Parker tend to sell VERY quickly, to a level at which some winemakers have been accused of crafting wine to fit the "Parker" style (anecdotal evidence... what, were you expecting data here?!). Now, Galloni is currently the reviewer for Italian wines, Champagne, and Chablis... not exactly hotbeds of huge, fruit-forward wines. If the new king of California brings his European tastes to the Golden State, will the scores favor leaner, more subtle styles? Will the more fickle California winemakers follow? What about consumers? So many questions yet to be answered. However, one thing is certain: this is perhaps the driest, least entertaining "Booze in the News" snippet yet.

Tearing the roof off the mothersucker, or a southern Rhône grape in the hands of two madmen: History (or at least pop culture) is full of great duos - The Lone Ranger & Tonto; George Clinton & Bootsy Collins; Hawk & Animal; Ponch & Jon; Larry Appleton & Balki Bartokomous; Dirty & Rowdy. Sure, the last two (Santa Rosa's Hardy Wallace and Atlanta's Matt Richardson, respectively) aren't quite household names yet, but they've put an exclamation point on what is now a proud Sonoma-Atlanta alliance by joint-producing a 100% Mourvèdre... and putting it up for sale. Normally- having had the pleasure of tipping glasses with both of these... er... uh... gentlemen?- I'd say this wine might end up having all the charm of a rabid, peg-legged weasel. However, everything- from the NPA to Salinia to A Tribute to Grace- that emerges from the walls of the Salinia Wine Co. seems to turn to melted gold, so I have high hopes for these two. Dirty & Rowdy Mourvèdre, along with a 50/50 blend of that Moo-vedder and Angela Osborne's fantastic Grenache, will be available by mailing list sale only (probably this summer). Ever punched Dustin Diamond in the suckhole, then made out with the tall chick from Back to School while listening to Sammy Hagar's "I Can't Drive 55" on a jet boat? Pretty sure this wine will be the exact same thing.

Just when you thought another ill-conceived "weekly" feature had fizzled- like so many before it- into obscurity, here comes a ham-fisted, disorganized, and sloppily-produced retrospective of a ham-fisted, disorganized, and sloppily-produced "weekly" feature.

Below are some of my favorite stories from 2010 that celebrated the magical elixir that causes hangovers, thus causing a hungover blogger to resort to such yellow journalism:

Best packaging: with all due respect to Pabst Blue Ribbon applying the proverbial lipstick to the metaphorical pig (though PBR does drink about as well as what is squeegied from the floor of a pig sty) by repackaging and selling its swill for $40+ to unsuspecting Chinese, this one has to go BrewDog, and its "End of History" beer. While I wouldn't pay hundreds of dollars for a 55% ABV bottle of suds, the thought of a dining room centerpiece featuring a taxidermied weasel with a bottle lovingly crammed down its gullet is certainly making me reconsider my need for Italian stingray boots.

Best drunk celebrity quote: Because we don't know if Kanye West was drunk when pretty much anything came out of his mouth, this one goes to Indianapolis Colts punter Pat McAfee, who was arrested after being found wet and shirtless in downtown Indy at 5 AM on Oct. 20. When asked how much he had been drinking, McAfee quipped, "a lot, because I am drunk." Brilliant. However, the whole thing stinks of a bit of a frame-up to me. I must say I would've never suspected a guy named "Patrick McAfee" from West Virginia to be drinking.

Best use of booze in cooking: This is a tough one. Normally, the thought of taking a nice bottle of wine or some craft beer and subjecting to a culinary pursuit that will rob it of vitalizing alcohol is...disturbing. Yet, the notion of taking ANY food and deep-frying it offers 100% reassurance that the cuisine in question will be vastly improved. Okra? It sucks. Fried okra? Like manna from heaven. Remember how turkey was the bland "khaki slacks" of meats, and then some wild-eyed Cajun pumped it up with hot sauce and threw that gobbler into a pot of peanut oil? I'm getting flush just thinking about it. But what if some enterprising gent from Texas took booze...and deep-fried it? You would have deep-fried beer. Yes. DEEP. FRIED. BEER. And, because the cooking time is so short, the alcohol remains. I don't really care to know how this came to be, but it must taste like the tears of a baby angel. In fact, I have it on good authority that they serve this very dish in the mess halls of heaven. Hell? Same thing, but it's steamed and made with PBR.

Best blog post about Robert M. Parker, Jr.: I was very fortunate to connect with hundreds of weird and wonderful booze-lovers in 2010. To my delight, many of those folks had equally weird and wonderful booze-centric blogs to peruse. I've confirmed that Syrah and turkey are a terrible pairing. I realized that someone can actually make a pizza (of sorts) with that Chef Boyardee pizza kit. But, while I've been left in fits of laughter by many entertaining posts (admittedly, mostly Hosemaster posts), only one resulted in snot bubbles out the nose, slapping of bellies, and soiled pantaloons. Check out this (allegedly) fictional account of a night with RP from Nick at Lousy Grapes. Then go make yourself a Rhône Sangria Speedball before a cigarette run to Walgreen's.

Best Movie about drinking: Unfortunately, this year didn't feature a film with the chops of a Sideways. Nary a match for Leaving Las Vegas. And I'm still holding out for the sequel to 1983's Strange Brew. But this was still a pretty easy choice: 2010's best movie about drinking was definitely Eat, Pray, Love. Okay, so Eat, Pray, Love wasn't about drinking. However, it drove me to drink. Fine, I didn't even see it. But the excessive marketing trying to trick me into seeing it drove me to drink. But I guess I didn't need an excuse. Anyway, based solely on the title (as I'm way too cool* to know anyone who saw Eat, Pray, Love), I'm confident that it sucked. No, not quite as bad as this snippet on the "best movie about drinking", which has completely derailed, but that still leaves Eat, Pray, Love in the realm of "probably pretty awful".

Onto 2011. May it bring important booze innovation and continued Lohan-esque shenanigans for all our entertainment.

Meet the Nouveau. Same as the Old-veau: Dammit. What a crappy title. I thought I'd try to show that I'm "cool and hip, yet sophisticatedly middle-aged" by fielding a really bad play on some Who lyrics; Who lyrics that have probably already been ruined by CSI: Des Moines or something. But I really struggled with this. "Nouveau-ver Beethoven" made me want to cut out the part of the brain that causes thinking. "Something Old, Something Nouveau" was about as clever as Jeff Dunham's "comedy". So, "Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" got bastardized horribly because I got lazy. And it sickens me...

...oh yeah, and the 2010 Beaujolais Nouveau came out yesterday. Stock up on it in case you run out of grape drink and vodka on Thanksgiving.*

China- The new hipsters: What's happened to Pabst Blue Ribbon? It used to be nigh-undrinkable swill that's served the purpose of getting one drunk when he couldn't afford Old Milwaukee. It was reliably $1/can at bars that sympathized to the desperate situations of college kids in need of affordable liquid courage and inevitable abdominal pain. Then came the hipsters. "Let's drink it to be cool and ironic," they said, in their reprinted "vintage" Joy Division t-shirts and skinny leg jeans. Supply and demand, hipsters. Now PBR is $5 a can at bars. No matter, as I wasn't going to order that crap anyway.

I guess it could be worse. The PBR brand has been totally reinvented in China as a high-end lager. One bottle: about $44 USD. The irony is delicious, but the beer isn't, especially at that price. But at least we're getting back at the Peoples' Republic for Tsingtao*. I just hope the U.S. doesn't bankrupt China with its exorbitant beer prices. My daughter will probably want her future overlords to have financial stability.

*I actually like these things. Beaujolais Nouveau is a fun Thanksgiving tradition, but it's a bigger rip off at $13/bottle than Chinese PBR. Tsingtao is great with spicy Szechuan cuisine, but I bet they're not shipping us the good stuff.

Thursday Night Lights: Not a single soul was asking me for wine advice, and I was totally incognito; nary an adoring fan asking for an autograph. In that regard, it was exactly like every other day in my life. But the event- Thursday night football previewing a potential Super Bowl matchup- was far from ordinary. Throw in an emotional victory from the home team, a belly full of suds, a raucous crowd, an 8:20 PM kickoff, and a 7 AM meeting the next day, and this Falcons fan-turned-questionably-talented blogger wasn't doing any writing upon arrival in the 'burbs around 1 AM (I wasn't driving, FYI, per "belly full of suds"). Even if I had put fingers to keyboard, all I can imagine is some incoherent blather about how Alsatian whites are the "Atlanta Falcons" of wines, interspersed with lyrics from hometown Travis Tritt's forgettable 2004 anthem, "Falcons Fever". Trust me: you were better served with nothing this past Friday.

And now for something completely different:

District 9 Wine: After posting this crime against humanity designed to explain the origins of South Africa's notorious red grape, I realized I had very little experience with Pinotage. It'd never been a huge sell- lots of criticism, limited distribution, and descriptors of bananas, meat, paint, and burnt rubber. However, we can never know what we like or dislike based on commentary alone. I snagged two Pinotage bottlings last week: a 2009 Zafrika Western Cape ($4.99 at Trader Joe's) and a 2008 Fleur du Cap Coastal Region $12.99 at Total Wine; thanks for the tip, Matt Horbund). Call me snobby, but I couldn't make a sweeping generalization based on one bottle under five smacks.

As often happens with much-maligned wines, the situation turned out not as bleak as advertised. Okay, the Zafrika smelled like Beaujolais Nouveau (read: bananas and fruit punch) and tasted like cheap Chardonnay (seriously, if I had tasted it blindfolded, I don't know if I would say "red" or "white"). However, criticism aside, Beaujolais Nouveau usually retails for around $12, so if that's your digs, save $7 this Thanksgiving and try something different.

The Fleur du Cap, however, was very different. It immediately threw poop in my face, like some liquid form of a vengeful rhesus monkey. That may sound bad to those who are not fans of feces, primates, or funky wines, but I do like the latter (and I guess I like primates as well), so this barnyard bouquet preluded something interesting. Upon further investigation, the funk actually reminded me less of poop and more of two things: burnt rubber mixed with the smell of a freshly eviscerated deer. I can already see the marketing: "pour Fleur du Cap when you want to relive a deer-centric fender-bender in your glass." I'm for hire, guys, but I need to work in the States. Not as many leaping great white sharks here.

Seriously, though, it's not uncommon for wines to take on a gamey or meaty scent. And the burnt rubber could've been from the presence of mercaptans, a common byproduct in wine production (considered a fault). However, after a couple minutes in the glass, the tires took a hike, and I was left with a pretty complex nose of game, menthol, cranberries, cocoa, coffee, and a little bit of banana (which I can do without, but Pinotage is known to produce a good bit of isoamyl acetate during fermentation, the very ester that gives banana oil its scent). The wine had decent, very smooth tannin structure in the mouth, and offered a lot of fruit and spice. As I drank the bottle throughout the span of a few days, much of the funk fizzled off, and the darker fruits and coffee elements prevailed, harkening not only to one of Pinotage's parent grapes- Cinsault- but to many wines of its geographic ancestry: the Rhône.

All in all, Abraham Izak Pernold's freaky creation fared better than I had predicted. Yes, I understand the criticism. I can see why folks wouldn't like it, as I've never seen banana-crusted venison loin with garlic on the menus at restaurants- fine dining and otherwise. However, at $12, there was a lot going on that kept the nostrils working, and even if this wine had ended up terrible, I was only out twelve bucks, or about the amount of money someone could make in the time it takes to read a poorly-constructed blog post...

...but I'm glad you're here. And the check's in the mail.

Coming Soon - "Suburban Crackhead": It's the same old story. Weeks ago, I posted a story on BITN about how heavy drinkers outlive non-drinkers. Alright! Time to get weird. Well, now a British study suggests that alcohol is more dangerous than crack and heroin. Okay, so the study's a little half-baked (as any of these studies are, in my opinion), and I'm convinced that everyone has an agenda and can make the data tell the story he/she wants. However, just to be safe, and in order to be a better father, husband, and member of society, I'm kicking the wine and turning this into a crack blog. I hear the terroir-driven rocks of the Baltimore area are spectacular.

Finally, a show that's actually about Beer: In the spirit (pun intended) of alcohol being deemed the deadliest substance ever by those stuffy Brits, America gives the biggest "F off" since December 16, 1773 (I didn't want to offend my West Coast readers by saying the words "Tea Party" on this blog). Sam Cagalione, of Dogfish Head Brewery fame, will premiere a show called "Brew Masters" on Discovery Channel. The show will follow Cagalione and his crew as they search the world for new and wacky ingredients. I'm really excited about this. "Cheers" had far too much human-interest and misadventure to distract from Norm's mounting bar tab.

Atlanta, CA: As I predicted back in August, my fine city has lost another top-notch blogger. Ed Thralls, of Wine Tonite! fame, has gone bamboo like Dirty and taken a wine job out in sunny Northern California. In all honesty, I know this is what Ed's been shooting for recently, and I'm really thrilled for the guy and his new title of "Social Media Marketing Director". I know he'll make Vintage Wine Estates a huge success in the Social Media world. Doesn't mean I'm not bummed to lose another local drinking buddy. Fortunately, Ed can sooth the pain by sending me wine. The good stuff, not the cheap stuff you send to bloggers. Congrats, Ed! Who knows when Atlanta, CA might expand again...

It ain't the sauerkraut: With a new public smoking ban in place in Germany, the operators of Oktoberfest's Höfbrau beer tent (and others) are employing odor-killing bacteria to combat the smell of stale beer. Formerly, good ol' cigarette smoke used to knock out the scent. Honestly, which smell is worse? Okay, probably stale beer. But that would be the least of my concerns... Sweaty. Drunken. Germans. Sausage. Sausage literally seeping out of their skins. In fact, now that I think about it, the aromas of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and sausage sweat aren't really selling me on Oktoberfest. There better be some boobs or something.

This Scotch goes to eleven: Successfully navigating the test-market circuit, Johnnie Walker Double Black is set to hit shelves in March of 2011. The whiskey is described as "Johnnie Black with more smoky, intensified flavors". Now, I think the regular Black has plenty of flavor as is. Are Scotch producers going the route of popular, more-extracted, tooth-chipping red wines? Are they looking for a headier, heftier whiskey to satisfy the collective palate? Maybe that's not what "more intense" means, but it sure doesn't sound refined. And what about the label? The Walker folks like colors. Should the Double Black label be twice as dark as the original? I mean, the original is so black, how much more black can it be? The answer is... none. Maybe they should just name it "Smell the Glove".

Lonely Vermont farmers smoke over the concept of "weed dating": So, apparently, this is just a bunch of folks who go on a date and pull weeds in a field of produce. I was WAY off on this one.

...However, I'm presenting a very special "Booze in the News" today. Two weeks ago, I offered folks the rare and wondrous* opportunity to create the BITN logo. The response was overwhelming (at least from Benito), and I just couldn't decide on a winner. So, in a very special edition of "Booze in the News", I present "The Collection". And if you want to take a crack at a logo, just do the design and drop it on my Facebook page. No reasonable designs refused!

*denotes gross exaggeration

Moo-ton-Rothschild: Cattle ranchers in British Columbia are feeding a bottle of wine a day to their beef cattle in an effort to breed tastier beef. Sezmu Meats started with the 60-day, liter-a-day regime after seeing one of Gordon Ramsay's cavalcade of TV shows where a hog farmer "finished' his pigs with beer...

...mmm. Pigs with beer...

The ranchers insist that the red wine blend gives the meat a sweeter, "beefier" taste when compared to industrially-raised cattle. Furthermore, as rancher Janice Ravndahl notes, "cattle that are relaxed taste better." Probably true, and a feather in the cap for humane ranching, but here's the burning question: is the wine in Canada so bad that only the cows will drink it? Ooooooooooh! USA! USA! USA! (okay, clearly I'm still bitter about the Olympic Mens' Hockey finals, and the Okanagan region of British Columbia actually makes some terrific wines I'm told). That being said, USA! USA! USA!

Badass Nanny State: Russian Finance Minister Alexei Kudrin is pleading with the nation's citizens to drink more and smoke more. This bizarre edict precedes a planned rise in excise taxes on both booze and cigarettes. "If you smoke a pack of cigarettes, that means you are giving more to help solve social problems such as boosting demographics, developing other social services and upholding birth rates," stated Kudrin in a statement to the Interfax news agency. The last part of that statement sounds really counterproductive: more money for healthcare to help deliver smokey, low-birthweight babies. Why shouldn't they be desperate, though? More folks are dying than being born in Russia. Take that, Ivan Drago. USA! USA! USA! (okay, that's just wrong). Eh, I'm sure more smoking and vodka drinking will help that high death rate. Good lookin' out, Russian government.

Settled down to write "Booze in the News" tonight. Got some great fodder for it, too.

But the cybernet had other plans. Turns out, the repeating images in the background (this little guy)-

-were overpowering the text. I set up my code for a white background to fall behind the text, but many web browsers weren't cooperating, so reading the blawg was damn near impossible. So, rather than writing another scintillating edition of "Booze in the News" (or "BITN", or "BIN", or just "BN", or "B"), I fidgeting with the stupid layout for hours. In the end, I just made everything white in the background, and I'm pissed about it, because I'm very proud of the neon silhouette of the unnamed hillbilly wino (oooh...naming contest coming soon).

Fortunately, my lovely wife, always diligent in the pursuit of quality content for BITN, found video of a story that I heard earlier this week and just had to showcase. Takes lots of "partying" to not realized what happened here. Sounds like this dude needs another drink like a hole in the head...