perfidy

As your ever helpful Minister Buckethead strove mightily to catch up on his blog reading, a couple items caught his eye. The Maximum Leader is a funny guy; very nice, and has excellent table manners. He has also recently examined the whole illegal wetback immigration thingy. We have discussed this matter here, and come generally to the conclusion that:

1. Illegal Immigration is, uh, illegal,
2. Wanting the border staffed with more than the national security version of the WallMart greeter is a good idea, and likely not racist,
3. Use of the phrase "undocumented-Americans" is probably the worst instance of euphemistic hyphenating in recent memory, and
4. Undocumented-American protestors marching through the streets with Mexican flags demanding the rights of American citizens is not only counterproductive, but kinda offensive even to the laid back and mild mannered Ministry.

But the dear leader has a couple fresh and pungeant ingredients to add to the festering pot of goo that is our national debate on immigration policy:

First, some resources on Mexico's own immigration policy; and second a thoughtful and not at all snarky reimagining of the day without a Mexican of recent memory.

[wik] My own thought, the day after, was that since that day went so well, we should try a day without a Mexican week. Then a month. Pretty soon, with the help of some nicotine gum and some well chewed pencil erasers, we could kick that habit cold.

ABC News has excerpts from a - no shit - Zarqawi Blooper Reel up on their website. It's evidently outtakes from one of his anti-American screeds, featuring hi-larious incidents like: Zarqawi trying to shoot a Kalashnikov, failing, and being shown how by an associate; that same associate grabbing the gun back and being burned on the barrel; and a pair of amusing bright blue tennis shoes that just totally don't make it with the post-Viet Cong black pajamas ensemble our boy Z is rocking.

Remember, people, this is the face of our enemy. Anyone got a cream pie?

(h/t QandO)

While reading something else entirely, I learned a very welcome fact. If the second Death Star was actually as close to Endor as it was depicted in Return of the Jedi, that is, a miles-wide sphere of metal, advanced polymers, and vast nuclear and future-tech reactors orbiting a mere 500 miles above the surface of the moon, then the debris and radiation fallout from its destruction almost certainly sterilized the planet and killed all the Ewoks still living there shortly after the Rebel forces departed. In an ideal world, Jar Jar Binks and his family would have crash landed on the far side not long before this incident.

One per every three deaths of household fish is caused by over-feeding. The other two are suicide.

Loyal reader #0017 Ken, the infamous Oldsmoblogger, has come up with an idea that may actually force the Ministry to lift its gaze from its jewel-like navel, and actually embrace the world outside. Minister Johno recently commented on the formation of the 101st Fighting Keyboardists. This tongue in cheek effort generated a twitch of the lips and a muted snigger from the Ministry, but did not capture our soul, put a song in our hearts and leave us yearning to sign up for the duration.

Ken, genius Ohioan (like all Ohioans save Governor Taft) took the idea of the keybees and shook off the dross. He took the nugget that remained, polished it on his shirtsleeve, and gave it a new paintjob. The result, we must admit, is awe-inspiring:

The Regiment Hewlett und Packard, of the Kaiserliche und Koenigliche Reichsarmeevirtual.

Ken has said that we can't purchase our commissions in the regiment like in the good old days. Which, given the nature of the project, seems rather odd. Nevertheless, the Ministry of Minor Perfidy would like to be the first to volunteer. Long live the Empire and the Dual Monarchy! Death to the filthy Ottomans! Consternation to ethnic nationalists and there anarchist fellow-travelers! A finger in the eye to all who would frustrate our plans to conquer the world through our cunning scheme of well chosen marriages and ineffectual military operations!

We can dedicate the Ministry Catastratorium and Bunkhouse to the effort. It will be the nerve center and kaffeeklatsch for the revolution. And, of course, a place of retreat when our armies are inevitably defeated.

No, it falleth as a gentle rain from twelve honest men and women. Or something like that. I haven't read The Merchant of Venice in, well, ever.

I'm sure that everyone has heard by now that Zacarias Moussaoui will not be put to death by the state for his alleged role in 9/11/2001. Now, you didn't ask for my opinion, you don't care about my opinion, but you've read this far so why not further? I think this was a good decision. To begin with, I'm not a big fan of the death penalty in most circumstances. It often reeks too much of vengeance, and justice and vengeance are mutually exclusive concepts. But moreover, Moussaoui asked for the chair, arguing that he wants to be a martyr, and also arguing, in essence, "f*ck you, America." (Is that an argument?) So what better than to extend him mercy?

I'm not much of a Christian, but I still organize my life around the ethical priniciples of Jesus, y'know, the red words in the old familiy bible. They're the best thing going, bar none. And mercy is one of the fundamental precepts of that ethical system. (Leaving aside the moral dimension, of course. I'm not qualified to talk about that.) Turn the other cheek. Exercise forbearance. Restrain from vengeance, no matter how incredibly good it might feel, because down that road is barbarity, chaos, and anarchy. Mercy is one of the precepts that has smoothed Western civilization's road to greatness over the years (though it sure can be discarded at the drop of a hat, I tell you what, whenever it's time to kill a few of the guys in the neighboring city).

But a funny thing about Christian mercy is that it can also amount to a big old "f*ck you." Killing Zacarias Moussaoui wouldn't make much difference in the larger scheme of things; some people would feel vindicated, others downright happy. And though it's probable that were he put to death, the glorious shining martyrdom he seeks would actually work out, and we'd have to see his ugly mug again and again and again on posters, banners, and painted bedsheets every time Hizbollah staged a damn rally, it's far more likely that the Legend of Zac would die with him.

But in not putting him to death, in choosing not to martyr him, we have taken the opportunity to reaffirm the core values of our society, to exercise patience and forbearance against crimes which are done and cannot be undone, to avail ourselves of the better angels of our nature, to reaffirm the fundamental difference between us and him, and best of all, to say to Zacarias Moussaoui, "Fuck you. We grant you our mercy."

Later this year, I will be travelling on official Ministry business to Prague, jewel of Bohemia and former site of one of the Ministry's finest and most active field offices. Unfortunately, that office was closed rather bloodily by SS-Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich in 1942, not long before his untimely but incredibly welcome assassination, and its wealth of occult and scientific knowledge was lost. Alas, the Iron Curtain fell before we could get another office satisfactorily established, and so our presence in Czechoslovakia and now the Czech Republic has been for six decades informal, ad hoc, and highly erratic.

(One rather tragic outcome of der Wixer's sacking of our office was that the Ministry lost track of the Golem of Prague. Although we of course had nothing whatsoever to do with the creation of the Golem, nor with contributing to nor puncturing the enormous corpus of legends, wives's tales, bedtime stories, parables, and plain out tall-tales that have accreted over the centuries since Rabbi Judah Loew first created his monster, through a remarkable twist of fate we were among several parties entrusted in the mid-eighteenth century with the knowledge of the Golem's long-term resting place within the Old-New Synagogue. But the ravages of the Great War and then the coming of Heydrich led to the loss of that knowledge and many, many more secrets of great and terrible importance.)

Although we at the Ministry have long since given up our ongoing search for clues as to the current resting place of the Guardian of Prague, feeling it is a secret much better left to others, there is much business for us in Bohemia, matters that have gone unseen-to in the more than sixty years since Hitler's filthy butcher came to town. The city has awakened by degrees from the stultifying effects of decades of totalitarian rule, and is once again the scrappy, proud, and vibrant seat of independent Czech identity. Its hard times are not entirely behind it, but good times are ahead.

This brings me to my point. If any of the Ministry's readers have been to Prague in the recent past, do kindly let me know if there's anything I should, uh, know, before I go. There's nothing like greasy food, dumplings, smog, puppet shows, smoky bars, spectacular lager, and long, long walks to set my soul to rights, but since my talent for Slavic languages is limited and my knowledge of the terrain very small, any experiences you might care to relate would be greatly appreciated.

End transmission.

Summer's coming, and with it, a desire for lighter and fizzier beers that both taste great and are less... filling. I haven't made a light beer since the fall, having stashed away enough stout (sort of stout, anyway...), porter, and Belgian strong ale to last me through the cold months. But with the warmer weather it's time now for lawnmowers, short pants, and deck chairs, and with them, brews like...

Atlantic Pale Ale

Ingredients:
5 lbs Munton & Fison Pale Dry Malt Extract
1/2 lb Crystal malt, 40L
4 oz Crystal malt, 20L
2 oz Crystal malt, 60L
1 1/4 oz Northern Brewer hops, 7.6% AAU
1 oz Cascade hops, 6% AAU
1 oz East Kent Goldings hops, 6% AAU
White Labs #0001, California Ale Yeast (liquid)

Steeped crystal malts in muslin bag in 1 gallon water at 155-170 degrees for 45 minutes as I brought 2.3 gallons water to a boil in my main brew kettle. Added steeping water to brew kettle and swirled muslin bag in water to get all the delicious, delicious malt flavor out.

Brought wort to a boil; added 1 1/4 ounces Northern Brewer hops and started the brew clock. At 40 minutes, added 1/4 ounce each Cascade and EKG hops for flavor. At 55 minutes, added 3/4 oz each Cascade and EKG hops for plenty of aroma.

Cooled brew kettle in bathtub with cold water and 25 lbs ice and a few freezer packs just for the heck of it. We got down from 212 to 110 degrees in about half an hour. Added wort to fermenting bucket and added 2 1/2 gallons chilled boiled water to make up about 5.2 gallons total. Pitched yeast at 76 degrees and stashed in the closet where the hot water pipes run. Let's see how this goes...

OG: 1.049

I'm going for a pretty standard American Pale Ale, on the golden side of the color spectrum and with a good balance of light malt sweetness and a forward but not overpowering bitterness. Cascade hops have that characteristic citrusy/floral scent that we all know and love from Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and East Kent Goldings have a grapefruity, fruity, spicy flavor that melds well with them. One's the defining hop of American brewing, one's the defining hop of some of the greatest beers the Empire ever produced, so, Atlantic Pale Ale.

[wik] Fermentation began in about 12 hours and the 24 hour mark is going nuts. Nuts!! Moved it out of the closet to a cooler area once fermentation began - I don't want to make the yeast overexcited so that they produce funny tastes. It's fermenting at about 74 degrees, which is a little (lot) high. Ehh. It'll be fine.

[alsø wik] At bottling it was... fine. In fact better than fine. Totally delicious. Fantastic. Unbelievable. Ambrosial. So that's nice. Um... ahem. Primed with 4 oz corn sugar at bottling. Made a short recipe - only about 4.75 gallons at the most for some reason. Hm. Better make more!!

Four out of ten municipal bus drivers in Pittsburgh are convicted felons. Of these, two are on parole.

Ministry Crony EDog is a busy man. He writes. He works. He has kids, and a Mrs. EDog. Inexplicably, he has decided that his true mission in life is to provide the world with lego webcomics. Well, maybe not his true mission. His true mission is to develop a team of superheroes and fight evil thoughout the world. This webcomic thing is just sort of to keep a finger in the whole superhero thing, until he gets his team together.

Behold.

[wik] He also started a new short story, which you can read over at his bloggy thingy. Will he ever stop? Check it out.