No, Jason, I am not right

One of the fun things about Hoosier Beer Geek is slowly revealing my true personality to people who are now affiliated with me in ways they cannot easily dissolve.

I'm kidding. But I realize that not everyone is going to find an email with the subject "Fun with the AIDS virus" as entertaining as I do. And jokes about the catholic church and religious holidays can easily be taken a bit too far - in my defense, I grew up in the catholic church - when I suggest that I won't be available for a weekend get together because of the catholic holiday "where we chose our young boys for the upcoming year".

I know some of my fellow HBG's weren't readers when I went on this rant back in 05 (I'm better now, thanks).

And what about this news story from ridehorsey of old?

Trenton, IL - The Shutttz family was woke by a strange sort of muttering that only grew louder and louder, they say.

"Those people that moved in next door always seemed so nice. But when he started coming outside in his underwear, with two hedgehogs held over his nipples, I thought it was a little strange," said Don Shutttz. "But then again, we eat dog biscuits."

The muttering was coming from the house next door, from the same strange man, in the same strange underwear/hedgehog attire.

"He had the prettiest smile on his face," said Pena Shuttz. "So innocent and childlike. Like a baby bird's smile."

Not normal.

But nothing really tops this old page, in which I reviewed all sorts of things - sort of a warm up for Hoosier Beer Geek, I now realize. Though I suspect if my fellow beer geeks had read my reviews back then, I may not be reviewing beer with them now. Why? Because I reviewed strange things, like kicking babies:

Disclaimer: When I write something like this, I'm picturing everything as a cartoon. So picture cartoon babies.

Kicking Babies

When you tell people you're into kicking babies, alot of the time they get all offended and say things like "My word! You are a horrible man!" but the truth is that if they had kicked a baby themselves, they'd know true joy.

I started kicking babies as a hobby in gradeschool. My parents helped me along the way by buying me special baby kicking shoes and a shirt that said "#1 Baby Kicker". I think it was awfully nice of them to support my dreams.

As I matured into the professional baby kicker I am today, I've often taken the time to think back to those early days, when my technique was lacking (for example, I always used the outside of my foot, with made the babies fly off with a certain sideways arc, which was horrible on my ability to kick a baby at a predetermined target). If there's one thing baby kicking has taught me, it's that if you work hard to accomplish your dreams (spending as much as 10 hours a day kicking babies of all sizes and shapes), things CAN HAPPEN. Great things.

I'd have to say that being known as the world's formost expert on baby kicking comes with it's rewards. Often when I am out of town on a baby kicking exhibition people will come up to me and offer to buy me lunch. They say things like "I've always admired your work, but I was always afraid to try it myself." To these people I say: It's never too late for anything. Baby kicking is a learned skill, and just because you're older doesn't mean that you can't become proficient. I'm still not at the level of baby kicking I'd like to be, but I know that if I continue to work at it, I can reach my goals.

And I've found out that I've inspired many young people. Because I do alot of my baby kicking exhibitions at hospitals, I often run into unfortunate or ill children who just need someone to help them through their day. Many of these children have spent their whole lives near the hospital, being that I kicked them at an early age and they still need medical attention. One boy, Robbie, who I made severly retarded, came up to me and said "Banana Yellow". I quickly corrected him and said "Robbie, bananas can also be green. You're retarded." I know these words of wisdom were just what Robbie needed.

All in all, Baby kicking has been a rewarding experience. I wouldn't trade the minutes and hours of joy it has given me for anything.

OBVIOUSLY THIS IS A JOKE. IF YOU TAKE OFFENSE, THEN I WONDER WHAT YOU'RE DOING AT MY WEBSITE. YOU SHOULD BE OUT KICKING BABIES.

SO.... yeah. I still think the kicking babies thing is funny. Sorry, can't help it.

my new favorite dead old german

I have been playing soccer for a large portion of my life, and in the past 15 years of that time, I have worn only one brand of soccer shoe. That brand is Adidas.

I do not wear the latest and greatest Adidas, of course. Given my choice in a money is no object situation, I'd still choose Adidas Sambas for indoor, and Adidas Copas for outdoor. And now it's time to pay tribute to the man who invented all shoes, Adolf (Adi) Dassler, who also happens to be My New Favorite German.

Adi Dassler was born in a small town outside of Berlin in 1641 to American and Japanese immigrant parents. Adi grew up without many material things, as his parents beet farm was not very successful.

One day while tending to the beet trees, Adi stubbed his toe on a root. Realizing this was a common problem for most beet farmers, he ran off to the local kangaroo tanner and bought seven pelts. He then invented the world's most famous soccer shoe, the Copa Mundial.

After inventing the Copa Mundial, Adi decided to name his new shoe company after his favorite poet, Luther Van Brigglesteinenson. The Lutvanbrigtenson Copa Mundial made it's debut and the 1643 Whatshouldwecallclothesforthefeet convention, where it was strongly outsold by a new invention called "toe socks". The convention was not without it's benefits, though, as it was determined by vote that clothes for the feet were to be called "shoes". The other choices were "Racooners" and "Television".

Adi was unfazed by his convention failure, and immediately went back to his farm to hang himself. After several failed attempts, he invented shoe laces.

Adi Dassler died the next day.