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 Gay Pride Month

It’s June. How the hell is that possible? It seems like just yesterday it was May. Well, day before yesterday. This year is just hauling ass. Like a pickup full of donkeys. But it’s also Gay Pride Month, and I’ve something to say about this. You knew I would.

Just like Black History Month. And the Black Entertainment Network. And Indian Appreciation Day. I don’t even need to delve into that bullshit and how racist and divisive it is. But Gay Pride Month? Seriously? Do we really need to proud to be gay? Well I’m okay with your being gay, and your being proud to be gay. Let me rephrase. Do we really need to have a month that condones and celebrates outward pride about being gay?

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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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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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International Affairs

When I was still in the service of the Service, back in late 1996, I was sent to Germany for Operation Joint Endeavor. Basically, we stationed ourselves in Germany for 90-day-tours and handled their aircraft maintenance while the permanent party there flew into Bosnia several times a week. Bosnian women are hot, by the way. I don’t really care too much about color of skin or whatever when I’m on the prowl. But I for some reason thought they were a brown people. No. They’re Scandinavian. White, blonde-haired, blue-eyed snow bunnies. Cute little gorgeous cuties. Anyway, I digress. The point is not the hot Bosnian women. The point is that I was sent to Germany.

It’s funny, by the way, how German women love Texans. Garret and I wore our cowboy hats and boots and the whole getup while we were over there. Every time we would walk into the Irish House (in Germany), the women would immediately flock to us. Have you seen me? I’m not that hot. I guess Garret was. But meh. They loved my hat. And this shitty German rock band that did 80s American Rock covers was playing “Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi when we walked in one time. And every time he would get to the part where he says, “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride”, he would point to us during the ‘I’m a cowboy’ part. Sigh. Yeah it was pretty gay. But every single time he’d say it, he would point, and every time he would point, everyone in the bar would turn to look at us. So we’re standing there just sort of waving. Every time. I might have gone home with a brown woman that night. Anyway, that’s not the point either.

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Happy Useless Commercial Holiday!

Yes, it’s tomorrow. Already. It seems like yesterday was Valentime’s Day 2005 and I was trying to find a way out of buying a bunch of crap for my lovely wife. My problem, before you start thinking I’m an insensitive prick, is not with buying her stuff. I do that all the time. I’d say three or four days a week I buy her stuff. My problem is that some dipshit named Ronny Valentino just suddenly decides there needs to be a holiday named after him and the world now celebrates it.

It’s not a real holiday. You know how I know? Because we all have to work! If you don’t get off work for the day, it’s not a real holiday. But secondly, the fact that it’s a nationally or globally recognized lovebirds day should not mean I am obligated to buy chocolates and flowers for my wife. She already knows I love her. But if I don’t, then I’m an asshole because all her hot teacher friends will be getting crap from their students and loved ones and husbands and gay lovers. “Oh, H24,” they’ll say, “Where’s your heart-shaped box of fattening junk food?”

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All I want for Christmas…

Christmas is the season for giving. It’s better to give than to receive. Giving is the king’s – – you know what? That’s BS. All of these quips have one thing in common. They all involve giving stuff away. Well they have two things in common. They all involve someone receiving something. You can’t very well give something away without someone receiving it, right? Well I’m ready to be on the receiving end! That doesn’t sound good. But I’ve already made the joke, so I expect no comments containing jokes about me being “the receiver” and all that nonsense. It’s Christmas, people.

So I wasn’t going to complain, but now I think I am. Just a little. All of this giving is going on. And I’m doing quite a bit of it myself. SpaceBrew did really well this year, so I’ve been able to afford a few thousand dollars worth of stuff to give to family and friends. That doesn’t mean I want a seven-thousand dollar gift coming to me. (Well actually I wouldn’t complain…) But I would like a couple of little somethings to open. Yeah? Yeah. Is that so wrong?

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A Nice Christmas Dinner

It was this time – Christmas – of 1997, and the whole world was happy. I had just gotten back from Panama, and with my hazardous duty pay and my Christmas bonus, I bought a brand new shiny black Dodge 4×4 pickup. It had the works. Everything from leather seats to CD player, heated mirrors and one of those bitchin’ built-in cell phones that looks like a pocket calculator embedded in the visor. It was Wednesday, December 24, and I had spent the better part of three hours negotiating this buy at the dealership. I finally fiinished and tore off across I-20 for Dallas to go pick up my family for dinner. We would head to Three Forks for steak and brandy, followed by lavish dessert and maybe the men would venture outside for a cigar. Well, my Pops and I at least. My grandpa wasn’t much into that.

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Happy Halloween. Yawn.

The building where I’m working this week had a ‘fall festival’ today. Everyone was supposed to dress up in costumes (aren’t we getting a little old for that shit?) and each team carved a pumpkin. Yawn. Well, I’m not really a part of this company. I’m sort of stationed in the building using their resources while away from my home office. I’m out here building servers. But anyway, one of the organizer ladies likes me, so she invited me to the what-have-you for some free pizza and soda pops. Who can resist?

Let me start by saying I’m not totally against parties and festivities based around holidays by default. I’m just kind of against the idiocy that typically arrives at such events.

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