Crying in my beer

Whew. Got a glass of Swans' Heritage Ale in front of me. It's in a small glass, a ten ounce cognac snifter, and it does compare favourably to an excellent cognac. When I told the waitress I'd try a glass she poured a little taste, a little smple, a bit like someone taking a prospective bungee jumper to the edge of a cliff to give him a chance to change his mind. One little sniff is enough to tell you that it's no ordinary beer. In fact, I think it's more properly called a barley wine. That's what they called it the last time they made a batch, and I thought then it was the best beer I had ever tasted, comparable to a good Trappist ale. Chris was the brewmasteer then and you would never know from its taste what kind of a punch it packed. This one is much bolder. At 11% it's the kind of nectar to linger over.
If I'm going to step into Cafe Philosophy tonight (with the intent of reporting the proceeds to my legions of readers) I need a little fortification, but not too much.
A few days ago (I can't find it now) I read a column where the writer wondered where all the beautiful movie stars went. Of course one of the reasons I like old movies is because the actresses (Not actors, for Christ sake) were so beautiful. And today I was surprised to see at A&B Sound a new old musical. The movie is "Lillian Russell" and it stars the most beautiful of all the movie stars, Alice Faye. I may think Lana Turner was gorgeous and Hedy Lamarr ravishing, but every time I see Alice Faye I fall in love. She had a certain light in her eye, impish and wanton, but at the same time a lady who guarded her virtue. To see her is to love her. There must have been some error in the structure of the universe that we lived in different generations. But in another universe I know we'll meet as we are destined. And maybe in that universe I'll be worthy of a woman like you.