Nurse the Hate: Hate the Full Plate

 

I’m in Denver right now trying to somehow assimilate a more advanced level of knowledge than I would have ever hoped in fermentation chemistry while a very persistent Mexican busboy keeps trying to take my snack at the United Club.  This is not what one would call “ideal learning conditions”.  It’s my fault really.  I was the one that fell back into my comfortable old college study habits of meandering around the subject for weeks and follow that up with an intense burst of studying in the hopes that an entire subject area would magically drop into my brain and stay there for 24-48 hours.  I passed a number of classes in this manner, so I know it works.  Sort of. 

I recall one evening where I soaked in 13 weeks of Sociology lectures in one mammoth overnight sitting powered by enough Celestial Seasons “Morning Thunder” tea to kill a buffalo.  At one point I was so hopped up I just kept walking around the dorm “study area” as I was unable to stay in one spot for fear my heart would burst out of my chest if I stopped for even an instant.  Previously that dorm study area was only known as the place where a guy named Shifty had received a handjob from a girl named “Jill Loaf” while watching the antiquated TV in the lounge play a Hawaii 5-0 re-run on a Tuesday.  Who knew it was also a Temple of Learning?  It was that night though.  I was like some sort of academic shark in constant motion reading notes.  I somehow got a 92 on that test, though the only thing I really remember about the subject now is the name “Skinner” and “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs”. 

It should be noted that the results of this test led to the eventual breakup of my girlfriend at that time as she was so frustrated that her 13 weeks of diligent study and classwork led to an 86 while my absurd methods led to a better grade.  This proved to be too much for our relationship, though my consistent sexual overtures to her roommate probably didn’t help matters either.  In retrospect my behavior during this period was a bit narcissistic, and that’s me saying that after allegedly gaining the wisdom of age.  The period is a bit murky.  Let’s not dwell on the distant past.

Last year I went to Bordeaux on what was essentially a lark and passed the WSET Level 3 exam.  This is a certification that proves that the holder of the lapel pin knows more about wine than almost any other human on the planet except for a tiny minority that continue on to Level 4.  You have to be a goddamn fool to try to pass Level 4.  Feeling swelled up with unsubstantiated confidence and my lapel pin, I decided to take a shot at Level 4.  I am a goddamn fool.  I recognized that I would be forced to really learn a depth of knowledge well beyond my interest level in certain areas of wine… like fermentation chemistry.  I’m doing it anyway.  Just to see if I can. 

So now I’m on another flight going to SFO crammed into 21F like a fucking sardine.  I've got a couple days before this exam.  The game plan is to shoot up to Napa, visit some winemakers that are friends of friends, sample my way through a bunch of the new vintages, and then eat fabulously while attempting to cover all the costs of this needless extravagance with a couple of well placed NFL wagers.  This is a well-integrated plan.  I am firing on all cylinders.  I tweaked some lyrics for recording new Daredevils material yesterday.  I am learning two years of chemistry in a weekend.  I’m in The Bay (much like saying you are in “The City” while in New York).  I’m driving over to Mavericks tomorrow morning where 50 foot waves are pummeling the shore.  It’s all happening. 

All I need to do to really make it perfect is hit these playoff games.  The key is to focus on the meat of the matter.  What’s the key you ask?   I’m betting against the Brian Hoyer/Brandon Weeden Power Axis of the Texans.  Nothing good can come of those two being together, so I’ll take Kansas City -3.  I am also taking Cincinnati +3. I understand that the Bengals have not won a playoff game since Ken Anderson and his boss mustache beat the Chargers way back before Jill Loaf got her technique down in dorm study lounges, but the Steelers have looked shitty in the last two weeks against two of the worst pro teams in football.  Cincinnati’s defense needs to save the day.  What the hell.  I’m on ‘em and I’m on both of these aggressively.  Carpe diem you sons of bitches.