OK, I got up at five. Give me a break. Tired. Too tired for this? No. No, it's not that Twitter is more interesting than blogging. It isn't! No. I'll pay more attention to you real soon, blog. Sure, I haven't posted since Sunday and the last post over there was about carrots but you are the focus of my life. Yes, you are. Yup. Sure. So... here's some links to things other people have been posting:

♦ Ron is coming to Canada. I played a part in getting him to come to the mapled land in the cool weather to stand in a rural county fairgrounds with a pocket full of free drinks tokens for a weekend. Honestly, I just wanted to see what happened. And to see what he and the rest of the upstate NY Albany Ale gang orders at Tim Horton's. Should be fun.
♦ Boak and Bailey are on fire with their series of posts about the pre- and proto-history of CAMRA. We are promised a book is in the works. Today's post on the fickle origins of "real" ale points the finger of fun at the whole idea... because that's what the founders were doing. And they have located the actual patron saint of the one true... or is it real... beer nerd.
♦ And Jeff in Oregon has been writing about blind tastings. He started off with a exposé of quads... which is a phrase, upon reflection, which may land me plenty of hits from the track and field pervs. Me, I don't toy with my beer. I don't treat it like a plaything so I have not engaged with the tricks of blind tasting anymore than I have filled my ears or sinuses with bees wax to strip myself of another sense, too. I'd never do that. But more power to you. Hope it helps with understanding. I do. What?
♦ Best tweet of the day. Joe Stange distance goading Adrian Tierney-Jones - who is at Munich's Oktoberfest - from a hemisphere away. That and the Stonchly one under the starry starry night.

What else? Mr. B placed the big bang of craft on the calendar. Stan announced the next Session. Tandy talked about off beer tricks. And the Reluctant one posed a puzzle about choices. Done. Ah, Tuesday. That most loser of the days of the week. You don't even qualify as hump day. Where will I find you next week?