These are current events, anniversaries, local happenings, etc.

Farewell, old friend.

Yesterday, one of my favorite authors of all time passed away at the age of 66. He had been privately battling cancer. Michael Crichton wrote some of the greatest science fiction stories I've ever read, and more times than not, I found myself wondering if they were reports on events that actually happened. The Andromeda Strain and Terminal Man, for instance - both written like essays on actual events - yet, not at the expense of thrill and good storytelling. In his later years, Michael began politicizing his writing to the point I almost couldn't stomach the read anymore. State of Fear was one, then Next was really not even worth reading, in my opinion. I don't want to use this space to bash Michael's writing, but to say that it was evident he had an agenda. Maybe this explains some of that. At any rate, he will be remembered…

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Well, my guy didn’t win.

I’m deeply saddened tonight that my candidate didn’t win. We had every chance, it seemed like, to step forward with a voice that would carry America into the next four years with a positive celerity and ensure peace and stability for the future of life as we know it.

I had great expectations that we would step forth and raise our hands in support of the next great leader, but majority ruled in favor of the underdog. The dark horse. And what saddens me the most is how close we really came. That’s right, friends and patriots. We came close enough to smell victory’s sweet, yet pungent aroma. And we elected the wrong guy.

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Happy Independence Day!

Happy Independence Day, friends. Many people will tell you "Happy 4th of July!" today. And you'll probably say it a lot. You'll be asked what you're doing for the fourth of July. You'll ask people what plans they have for the fourth of July. But hardly anyone will say the words 'Independence Day'. And I think it is important that you do. Let's remember why we celebrate the fourth of July. Let's remember why it's fun to watch fireworks. And please, most of all, let's remember those who have fallen making this a holiday. Please salute, hug, or thank a veteran today. Have a great, safe holiday, friends. God bless America.

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Happy Space Day

It’s a new month, dear readers. And this might just be the month we’ve been waiting for. Let me tell you a few reasons why today doesn’t suck, to start with. Number one, it’s May. Spring is definitely here. It’s been gorgeous outside. Anyone who doesn’t believe that hasn’t seen me driving around all week. I’ve had the top down and the doors off all week! Oh, well, or maybe you just don’t live in Texas. It’s been gorgeous here.

I took the first three days of this week, and Friday of last week off. So I had a six-day weekend in which I could do a lot of driving around with the top down and the doors off. I don’t get great gas mileage in the Jeep, but hey, gas is pretty cheap these days, right guys? :shobon: Right? So that there is proof that today doesn’t suck. Today is Kinetic Kim’s birthday. She would have been thirty-two today. Happy birthday, Kim. That, of course, means I’ll pour myself a couple of fingers of scotch tonight in her memory.

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The Epitome of Abandonment

I’d like to talk about something that has bothered me for quite some time. Twenty-three years, to be precise. On the 23rd of April in 1985, Coca-Cola made their big announcement that they would be changing their formula. Remember that? Well, Katy, you’re excused from this since you weren’t born until a couple of years later. But the rest of you, do you remember that? Let me remind you – or enlighten you – whichever is appropriate.

Pepsi had such a great market share of the soda pop drinkers that it really started threatening Coca-Cola’s business model. So Coke decided they needed to change their formula to taste more like Pepsi. Ahem. Let me repeat that in case you didn’t hear me properly. Coca-Cola decided that the best way to get back in the taste race was to change their formula to taste more like Pepsi. Wait. What?

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National Golf Day

Let’s talk about golf for a minute. I know, I know, that’s a really long time to spend on the subject, and I might run out of shit to say about it long before the minute is up. But bear with me.

I used to play golf. And by play, I mean, drive a cart around and carry a bag of clubs, swinging at balls, marking nines on every hole… You know. Playing golf. My dad bought me a set of clubs when I was a kid. So I played with him all the time. I’d usually find myself moving my ball up to match his lay. I’ve obviously way outgrown those clubs by now, so when I play these days, I borrow someone else’s clubs. I usually play once or twice a decade. Last time I played 18 holes with Aaron was about three years ago, and the game took us almost eight hours.

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Sad Tuesday

Thank you all for coming by, day after day, to read the words of our SpaceBrew Writers. But sadly, I have to announce we are closing our doors. So this will be the final column. We had some good times, didn't we The Captain was arrested last night for driving under the influence of "something that smells a lot like scotch". Moonshine has been kidnapped, and is only reporting in by cell phone text messaging every eighteen hours - clearly not often enough to write columns, and Space got bitten by a spider on his right index finger yesterday. His hand swelled up so badly that he can no longer type, play the guitar, masturbate or even type. He had someone type this column up for him So please feel free to post comments here detailing your experiences - happy and sad - with SpaceBrew over the years. Let us…

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Cannell The Man

Shine and I ran up to the Barnes and Noble last night to meet Stephen Cannell. Again. Remember when I met him the first time? Yeah, he was just as cool. So I wanted to go in there and first of all get him to remember me. He has some family attachment to Spaceyville, where I live. He said last time I met him, “Oh yeah, I know Spaceyville! I’m up there all the time!” So on my post-it note I put ‘Brian from Spaceyville’ so maybe it would jog his memory. It did. He remembered me.

Then I wanted to pass him my book so that maybe he could read something good for a change. I kid, I kid. No, for real, last time we met he told me to mail him a copy. Well I never heard back from him. So I just took him a copy tonight, slid it across the table and said, “Yeah Steve, we actually have something in common. I design my own bookcovers as well.” He was like, “That’s great!” So he asked when I had finished it, and if I had anything else. I told him, “Yeah, I’ve finished my second novel, halfway through my third.” He complimented me and shook my hand. Then I got my picture taken with him. He grabbed both books and held them up for the photo. Pretty awesome picture, if I might say so myself.

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And a Happy New Year…

Looks like we made it into another century. I don’t even know what that means. I heard a sports commentator the other night during the football game talking about Testeverde, and how if he played for one more year, he would have played in four centuries. Centuries? Really? Last I checked, that still meant one hundred years. Right? I guess he meant decades. But if Vinnie’s thrown a ball in the 70s, 80s, 90s and these here the oughts, he’s already made that mark. Either way, it cracked me up quite a bit.

We celebrated last night by going over to a buddy’s house and drinking, listening to music and throwing the Frisbee. In the garage. Seriously. While we stood out in the garage with beers and cigarettes in our hands, we started tossing around the Frisbee. It was actually quite entertaining. We made up rules as we went along. “Now you can only use your left hand.” “Now you can only throw over-hand.” Stuff like that. Then we got bored with the Frisbee and nailed up a piece of plywood and began throwing knives at it to see if we could get them to stick. Our parties.

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The Great Dove Hunt of 2007

My Pop and I packed up and headed out early Friday morning, the last day of August, heading west. We followed my buddy Stout and his brother David out to the deer lease for opening day of dove season. Wait, that should be capitalized. Opening Day of Dove Season.

So we got out there Friday night and got everything unpacked and settled in at the lake house. We then sat out on the patio and tossed washers for about two hours while drinking beers like we were in a contest. The point of all this was to do as little as possible. To get away for a weekend out into the country – to do as little as possible… To disconnect. To unwind. It was so nice to be able to become one with nature. And the birds. The boids.

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