Category: Drugs

  • Chapter 18: The Walking Wounded

    One year ago today, I was stationed in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia. I received my fourth anthrax vaccine. That’s when my problems began. Until that point, I weighed 175 pounds, 5’9″, excellent physical condition. That night, I had a raging fever and my physical condition continued to deteriorate over the next couple of weeks. During that time, I lost facial hair, my testicles shrank to the size of a peanut – the right one that I could find. I had rapid weight gain, mainly in the form of subcutaneous fat, suffered mood swings, had severe groin pain, and I lost muscular strength. I went from a normal workout bench press of 280 pounds to less than 100, and that was in the space of less than two weeks . . .

    As I got ready to leave Saudi Arabia in May, I visited with a new flight surgeon. He reviewed my records and he noted the strong link between a shot on one day and being ill the next. He also directed that I put in a VAERS report at an Air Force medical company co-located on that same compound. I wrote up the report, I walked over and an Air Force – a senior Air Force doctor came out and blocked the report. He scrawled across the back of the page that he did not think they were related, that I needed to see a urologist, and if the urologist concurred then he’d go ahead and file the report. Had he asked, or had he looked at my records, he’d see that I’d been under medical care, specialist care, for over six months.[i]

    “Sir, they’re saying that they’re not going to let me come there to testify.” David Ponder’s voice echoed over the phone. I waited to answer.

    “Listen, don’t worry. Jen’s calling Beth Clay on the staff of the House Government Reform Committee. I’ll get hold of someone there. Believe me, your command isn’t going to take on a Congressional committee.” David Ponder had been invited to testify before the House Committee on Government Reform. He was calling from Okinawa.

    “I hope not, sir.” Although we had gotten the stay, David was still worried that he would be left in Okinawa. This was because members of his command had told him that he would be left in Okinawa until the stay dissolved and/or the case was resolved, even though his unit was preparing to return from its seven-month deployment in the first week of October 2000.

    Coincidentally, in the first week of October 2000, the House Committee on Government Reform was holding another hearing on the anthrax vaccine program. The Committee had already issued an extraordinarily condemning report in April of 2000, after some eight or nine hearings. Specifically, the report was critical of DoD’s media campaign against members who refused to accept the vaccine and it called for a moratorium on the entire program. In an interesting comment on the state of military-civil affairs, Marine Major General Randall West, a Cobra pilot of some repute and point man for the AVIP, immediately held a press conference rebutting the Committee’s report. It was surprising, and disturbing, to hear a senior military officer criticizing a committee of Congress because of its disagreement with a DoD program.

    “Don’t worry, David. We’ll get you here.” I said it with more conviction than I felt. I was in my house in Quantico, Virginia. I had to leave Okinawa early because of medical needs for one of my daughters. The Marine Corps had been fairly accommodating in sending me to Quantico to be near appropriate medical care, but it meant I had been removed from defense. I was now a prosecutor, while retaining my anthrax cases that were subject to the stay.

    “It’s hard not to, sir.”

    “We’ll get you here.” If David’s command didn’t send him, I wasn’t sure what I would do. David’s wife, Jennifer, was very active in lobbying for David with Congressional members. I hoped she would be able to put some pressure on a representative who would in turn put the heat on David’s command. I was already way over my head. An appellate stay was above my paygrade as a Captain, but General Officers giving press rebuttals to Congressional reports was way, way out of my depth.

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

    When I was detailed David Ponder’s case in Okinawa, my first thought was to deal it out quickly and move on. As I learned more about 10 U.S.C. §1107, I was shocked, but excited, as a defense attorney. I never really focused on, nor was it particularly fruitful for me to argue in court about the safety of the anthrax vaccine. I myself was skeptical of people reporting adverse reactions. Sitting in the Rayburn Building on October 5, 2000, in a chair right behind David Ponder, I had a change of heart. I watched and listened to human tragedies. One woman, the wife of BioPort worker Richard Dunn, explained how her husband died from a systemic reaction to the vaccine.  The coroner for Ionia County, Michigan, announced that Richard Dunn had inflammation throughout his body as a reaction to the vaccine. Mr. Dunn had taken his eleventh shot of the anthrax vaccine in May. He died on July 13, 2000. Richard Dunn was required to take the same shots as service members, as well as annual boosters, because he cared for some of the animals at BioPort.

    Immediately after the coroner’s statement, BioPort issued a general denial, including a claim that they had never heard anything about such reactions at the plant.  This statement was hard to square with the testimony of Mr. Dunn’s wife, who claimed that BioPort actually called several times to see how Richard Dunn was doing and called doctors for him. Either way, her testimony and the coroner’s finding was significant for me because it offered some legal hope for David Ponder, Jason Stonewall, and Vittolino Arroyo.

    Part of the basis for the judge’s ruling in our cases was that we had been unable to show any serious adverse reaction to the vaccine that would justify someone refusing the shot. As I listened to some of the stories of people on the panel, I realized that there were some seriously injured people. One young man, who had begun to have lesions that looked like burn marks all over his body immediately after he received a shot, testified about how he had lost his vision and continued to have medical problems. Incredibly, his father had served in the Army also in Vietnam and had cancer from the defoliant Agent Orange. An Army Major, John Irelan, detailed how Air Force doctors had refused to connect his illness with anthrax and blocked his filing of a VAERS form.

    This refusal of military doctors to even acknowledge adverse reactions was a common theme that I heard repeated by many servicemembers. It was disturbing because it allowed Major General West, in the panel that followed ours, to claim that “of all the people that were here today, there was only one person that has a medical diagnosis that directly links it to vaccine.”[ii] In other words, if military doctors do not diagnose it as anthrax related, then it’s not anthrax related, and therefore there really aren’t that many adverse reactions. Even responding to the coroner’s report finding a systemic reaction to the vaccine General West claimed that “[t]here are other medical experts who believe it [the death] was not [AVIP connected].”[iii] It became clear to me the military wanted it to be a battle of experts and the DoD could always trot out its own medical personnel and how could anyone gainsay them, given the classified nature of DoD vaccine research? And who would dare to question a doctor’s impartiality or medical opinion, even though they were essentially under orders and saying what their employer wanted them to say?

    This is yet another sordid aspect of the anthrax program – the compromise of military medical professionals in service to a corrupt and illegal DoD vaccine program. Report after Congressional report and inquiry after Congressional inquiry reveal that military personnel were not told required information about vaccines or medications, and worse yet, told only that they had to take it. Congressional and GAO reports detail this repeatedly, from the Gulf War’s use of investigational drugs to failed recordkeeping attempts in Bosnia with the encephalitis vaccine. The anthrax vaccine was no different, in large part because the DoD, from the program’s inception, made it a “commander’s program.”[iv] This oft-repeated phrase transformed the medical officer from an independent expert bound by his profession’s ethical rules to provide medical care to servicemembers into a Commander’s staff officer responsible solely for ensuring that the “commander’s program” is carried out, with such trivial consideration as laws or medical ethics thrown in the garbage. Medical officers were given nothing more than talking points around the AVIP, entirely from DoD briefing slides and a DoD website. When I cross-examined the Group Surgeon for Third Force Service Support Group, he acknowledged this was explicitly the case, all while still defending the program.

    During the government’s direct examination, the doctor made broad, sweeping pronouncements about the AVA’s effectiveness against aerosolized anthrax. When I questioned him about the manufacturer’s IND application filed in 1996, he was unaware of it. His answer was that there “may be some political ramifications why they filed that. I don’t know.”[v] I questioned him about the rhesus monkey studies using the AVA and his knowledge of them.

    Q:   . . . have you read the actual results of the study?

    A:  I haven’t read the actual study.

    Q:  Well how do you know then that it is what you said it is? What is your testimony based upon?

    A:  Based upon the briefing sheets that I get. I also looked at the DoD anthrax website which is information that we have –

    What was interesting to me about the exchange wasn’t just his ignorance about the most basic aspects of the vaccine or the program, but was that people refusing the vaccine, who are still patients like any other patient, were now “they” and the doctor and the DoD were “we.”

    This is what happens to those who refuse. Even doctors, who should appreciate more than anyone patient fears about taking shots, had become zealots in defense of the anthrax program. In no other medical treatment regime do we find doctors in lockstep with a military commander about the nature of a medication or treatment. The DoD and military leaders were not providing briefing slides or medical information about Hepatitis B, for example. Or Japanese encephalitis. In those cases, the commander relied upon the expert advice of the doctor to advise the commander of the need for a particular treatment or medical intervention. Somehow with the AVA, however, the entire process was reversed. The histrionic portrayal of the biological warfare threat was such that commanders were now in the position of advising doctors about the necessity of treatments and, more importantly, about the history, background, and safety of such treatments. Had the doctor at Stonewall’s trial looked in a basic microbiology textbook, he would have found that among thirty-six vaccines, the anthrax vaccine was the only one listed under the category “special immunization and experimentation.”[vi]

    Unfortunately, military doctors, non-warriors in a warrior culture, found in biological warfare a chance to be in a position heretofore unheard of for military doctors, as a kind of “biological warfare intelligence officer,” using their medical expertise to advise commanders about the “threat” from disease via biological attack. In the past, the threat from disease was no different for the military than it was for the civilian population and the military doctor’s role was much like a civilian doctor’s: treat people for illness and injury, using preventative medicine to the extent possible. In the Gulf War and post-Gulf War, doctors became special advisors, responsible for ensuring that a vaccine – now considered a part of “total force protection” – was administered to the troops, no matter what. Military doctors stepped all too willingly into this role, abandoning professional objectivity in an effort to be “part of the team.”[1]

    The media bombardment surrounding the anthrax threat allowed doctors to convince themselves of the necessity for their involvement. If it is psychologically understandable, it is still professionally inexcusable. Doctors have an ethical duty to their patients outside of their job as officers, just as lawyers do to the law. If a commander told his staff judge advocate that he was contemplating murdering innocent civilians, then the lawyer would be obligated not simply to advise the commander not to do it, but to stop him from completing such unlawful action or to turn him in for the violation if he went forward. George Annas, in his excellent article on this subject, addressed this question with respect to military doctors.

    What should physicians in the military do when asked to administer investigational agents without the informed consent of the soldiers? Even if such administration is legal . . . it is unethical and following orders is no excuse for unethical conduct, even in combat. It would seem that the only justification a physician could have for participating in the administration of experimental or investigational agents without consent is that the physician sincerely believes that the agents are therapeutic under combat conditions. This is a difficult position to defend, because war does not change the investigational nature of a drug or vaccine. Such a decision would also be contrary to military regulations, which state that although a serviceperson must accept standard medical treatment, or face court-martial, soldiers have no obligation to accept interventions that are not generally recognized by the medical profession as standard procedures.

    A related question is whether the military physician is primarily responsible for the health and well-being of the soldiers under the physician’s care (as in civilian life) or must subordinate the medical interests of the soldier-patients to the military mission. Remarkably there is no written policy or standard view on this question in the military. This issue deserves critical attention in peacetime, because it is not susceptible to rational thought during wartime. An unequivocal policy upholding traditional patient-centered ethics, although not legally required, seems the most responsible position for U.S. military physicians to take.[vii]

    Unfortunately, there still was no unequivocal policy by the respective service Surgeons General on the military doctor’s role. In the case of the anthrax vaccine program, it is important to realize that we were not at war. The rule regarding informed consent has gone from the Nuremberg Code’s absolute position, to Desert Storm’s wartime exigency, to the peacetime potentiality of terrorism. This happened with very little scholarly or public debate and notwithstanding the harms suffered by World War II, Korean, Vietnam, and now Gulf War veterans from investigational treatments administered without informed consent. Mr. Annas, who holds a law degree and a Master’s in public Health from Harvard, testified before the FDA rulemaking committee regarding the Rule 23(d) waiver.

    In December 1995, I was invited to participate in a meeting on Rule 23(d) sponsored by the Presidential Advisory Committee on Gulf War Veterans’ Illnesses. During the meeting, DOD representative continually referred to American soldiers as “the kids” and the responsibility of DOD to protect “the kids.” I probably waited too long to tell him that I found this offensive, but he apologized for his choice of words. Nonetheless, the words are telling. Rule 23(d) treats American soldiers like kids and applies the basic rules for research on children to them with regard to consent – someone else makes the decision for them because they are seen as too immature to make it for themselves. For an adult this is always an affront to human dignity and disrespectful of personhood. In this regard, Rule 23(d) is a mistake and an aberration.[viii]

    This reference to soldiers as “kids” has another, more subtle, persuasive use.  While Mr. Annas viewed the use as derogatory with respect to consenting adults, it also conveys to the listener that the speaker is seeking to protect children, and who could possibly argue that protecting children is not a worthy cause? Of course, as Mr. Annas pointed out, military members are hardly children.

    Mr. Annas was also troubled by the DoD’s insistence that keeping the waiver of Rule 23(d) in place was “consistent with law and ethics.” As he notes,

    Soldiers are not pieces of equipment. They have numbers, but they retain their humanity and basic human rights. DOD should have exercised a third kind of courage – the courage to admit its mistake – and asked FDA to rescind Rule 23(d) and removed this pointless blot on our military laws. Instead, when Public Citizen petitioned FDA to revoke the rule in 1996, DOD supported continuing the waiver of consent rule as “fully consistent with law and ethics.” In mid 1997, FDA asked for public comments on what should become of the rule. The answer remains simple: it should be rescinded because it violates every code and ethical principle developed since World War II to regulate research with human subjects, and it is unacceptable to permit commanders to turn soldiers into research subjects.[ix]

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

    Endnotes

    [1] This phenomenon is by no means limited to doctors. I have noticed many other non-combatant staff advisors guilty of doing the same thing, abandoning professional doctrines in an effort to please commanders and “get the job done.” Lawyers who serve as Staff Judge Advocates are known for this, frequently acting as if they are the personal attorney of the Commander. I have sat in classes given by senior judge advocates, more than one, who have stated that “the challenge is not just to tell the Commander what the law is, but to find a way to allow him to do what he wants, to fit that within the law.” I call that spin. Better to tell a commander that his actions are unlawful, defend that position if it is honestly held, and suffer the consequences than to prostitute one’s legal opinion and engage in some scholarly rationalization to justify going along with the commander.

    [i] Testimony of Major Jon Irelan, US Army, before the House Government Reform Committee, Oct. 5, 2000.

    [ii] Testimony of MGen Randy West, USMC, before the House Government Reform Committee, Oct. 5, 2000.

    [iii] Id.

    [iv] “Department of Defense Anthrax Vaccine Immunization Program AVIP: Unproven Force Protection,” Report of the House Comm. On Govt Reform, Apr. 3, 2000, p.3.

    [v] Testimony of Cdr Gregory Chin, USN, in U.S. v. Stonewall, record at p.81.

    [vi] Principles and Practice of Infectious Diseases, 4th ed., p. 2770 (1995).

    [vii] George J. Annas, “Protecting Soldiers from Friendly Fire: The Consent Requirement for Using Investigational Drugs and Vaccines in Combat,” Amer. J. of Law and Medicine, Vol. 24, Jan. 1, 1998.

    [viii] Id.

    [ix] Id.

  • Chapter 14 – Secretary Cohen’s “Four Points”

    In December of 1997, the anthrax vaccine manufacturer was shut down and could not manufacture anything related to the AVA. Notwithstanding that hurdle, Secretary of Defense William Cohen announced that before the mandatory program would begin, it would have to meet four prerequisites:

    1. Supplemental testing, consistent with Food and Drug Administration standards, to assure sterility, safety, potency and purity of the vaccine;
    2. Implementation of a system for fully tracking personnel who receive the anthrax vaccinations;
    3. Approval of appropriate operational plans to administer the immunizations and communications plans to inform military personnel of the overall program;
    4. Review of health and medical issues of the program by an independent expert.

    (My emphasis added). One cannot help but wonder why condition number one would need to be in place if the DoD was confident in the safety and potency of the AVA, as it had started saying publicly. In fact, this appears to have been nothing more than a media campaign to assuage fears because none of these four “prerequisites” were ever met before the program kicked off, which is exactly why the manufacturer had been shut down in the first instance. Each of these factors revealed fundamental flaws with the program from its inception.

    With regard to point 1, “supplemental testing” may well have been the worst idea for the DoD could have ever come up with because what it demonstrated, unequivocally, was failure of lot, after lot, after lot of the vaccine.[1] One of the first findings in CBER’s February 1998 inspection was that “there is no validation of the length of time sublots are held until they are used in a lot. Sublots have been held longer than three years prior to use. There is no stability data to support this hold time.”[i] Lest this seem picayune, consider a little more history of one particular Sublot:

    Sublot AV456 was produced . . . in 5/95 [and stored] until 3/97 at which time it was transported to the formulation room . . . with other sublots to make FAV039. Here it was discovered that AV456 was contaminated with mold, and it was destroyed.[ii]

    While some may say that the fact that it was caught is good news, it ignores the other, older sublots where mold or other impurities were not caught. One finding (among many like this) is particularly noteworthy:

    Lot FAV023 was filled on 12/13/93 and passed a potency test on 3/29/94. It was submitted for redating on 4/2/97 and was placed in the stability program (zero time) at the same time. It is reported as failing potency on 4/2/97. It was tested again on 8/12/97 and is reported as failing potency. A fourth potency test conducted on 10/6/97 is listed as passing by 0.01. There is no investigation into the original result and justifying the additional testing.[iii]

    This finding is most disturbing because it indicates a testing regime that ignores negative test results – twice! – and somehow chooses to validate a subsequent positive after two negatives. How can one know which test result is correct with two failing and two passing results? And how many people would like to line up, roll up their sleeve, and take their shots from that particular vial of the vaccine? Stability testing of biological products is crucial because of the possibility for these products to break down over time. Note that this lot was “filled” in 1993. Four years later it passes a test by .01 after having failed twice previously. This particular finding is in no way isolated: Lots FAV 010, 011, 018, 021, 022, 025, 028, 040, 041, 042, 043, and 044 all had at least one failed potency test that was not investigated and then a passing result was somehow chosen over the negative one.

    FAV016 has its own uniquely disturbing history.

    Lot FAV016 had 6579 vials rejected due to particulates during post-filling inspection. These particulates were not identified, nor was an investigation conducted. The batch was released.

    Someone, somewhere, had unidentified “particulates” injected into them. As a practical aside, one has to wonder how those individuals will get VA compensation if they have an illness as a result of this contaminated product being injected into them in light of the DoD’s positions that there had only been 74 adverse events from the vaccine.

    The list of violations goes on and on and includes several different lots being tested and found with such contaminants as “penicillum species” – a danger to anyone allergic to penicillin; cladosporium – a fungus that can cause infections leading to “rough skin, black lesions on the hands, and sometimes a brain abscess”; altenaria – a fungus that can cause dermatitis in humans; micrococcus – a contaminant that is relatively harmless to humans; staphylococcus saprophyticus – a significant cause of urinary tract infections; staphylococcus epidermis – a significant cause of opportunistic infections, usually for those with some skin puncturing, such as needle/IV intrusions, medical appliances, or surgery; and staphylococcus capitis – another infection causing bacteria.

    Despite all of these findings and more in February of 1998, the program was launched on May 15, 1998, with Secretary Cohen claiming, with a straight face, that “all conditions for implementing the anthrax vaccination program for the total force have now been met.”[iv] There is simply no possible way Secretary Cohen could have said that in good conscience if he was aware of the inspection results in February. And given everything going on around the program, it is impossible to imagine that he didn’t know – because he manufacturer “voluntarily” shut down for “renovations” in January 1998. In reality it shut down as a result of the Notice of Intent to Revoke letter by the FDA, otherwise the February inspection results would have resulted in the facility’s license revocation.

    The second condition of the program was tracking of immunizations. Two DoD briefers talked extensively on November 6th, 1997, about a new program that would be used to track immunizations and of the terrific job the new system had done in Bosnia.[v] At a March 1998 Senate Armed Services Committee hearing, however, Dr. Randolph Wykoff, the Associate Commissioner for operations at the FDA, and Mark Gebicke of the GAO, pointed out that the Bosnia experience left a lot to be desired, particularly of the tracking of immunizations under an IND protocol for an investigational encephalitis vaccine.[vi] In fact, one report used the word “abysmal” to describe it.[vii] Once again, the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Health Affairs promised to get better, but also talked about a new procedure for getting relief from the FDA from the requirements of an IND.  The FDA associate director maintained that the “FDA firmly believes the IND process, as defined in our rules and regulations, is sufficiently flexible [for DoD’s needs]. Additionally, FDA is convinced the Department of Defense has the scientific, clinical, and logistic capability necessary to comply with the requirements of the IND process.”[viii] Evidently, however, they could not and did not do it in Bosnia. A GAO report issued the same day stressed the importance of being able to track vaccine immunizations in order to ensure “that (1) sufficient supplies of vaccines will be available at the various worldwide immunization sites; (2) vaccines that are older than their 1-year shelf life are destroyed; and (3) records of vaccines received, administered, and destroyed are kept to allow for monitoring and tracking.”[ix] Worse yet, the GAO found that during the “Bosnia deployment in 1997 . . . DOD could not account for more than 3,000 (20 percent) of the total number of doses sent to Bosnia.”[x]

    Requirement number three was that there would be approved operational plans to communicate to service members about the anthrax vaccine program. Whatever the operational plans were, in May 1999, the Department of the Air Force circulated a memo to its judge advocates, specifically defense counsel, telling them that “a small number of military members have refused to follow their commander’s direct order to take the [anthrax] vaccine” and that the cause of their fear in taking the shot is “misinformation obtained from web sites set up by special interest groups[.]”[xi] This was a frequent refrain of the DoD, in front of Congress and in the press. The memo also points members to the DoD’s own website, which was established after the program had begun, in order to “counter” in DoD parlance “internet misinformation.” Evidently then, in March of 1998, when the program was about to begin, prong number three hadn’t been met, either.

    It is worth noting that the Army’s AVIP Agency existed solely for the promotion of the anthrax vaccine. It was budgeted at $74 million over a six-year period (FY99-FY05).[xii] No other military medicine program has ever needed to be forced on servicemembers with an orchestrated campaign of this type. William Arkin, a defense writer and former Army intelligence officer observed that “. . . this is the Pentagon versus its own service members. It is a depressing window into the breakdown of discipline and basic confidence in the political and military leadership. That has nothing to do with the Web.”[xiii]

    Criterion number four probably cost the DoD as much credibility (if one can say it had any to begin with) as number one. It would be comical were it not for the stakes involved. Secretary of Defense Cohen announced that there would be a “review of the health and medical aspects of the program by an independent expert.”[xiv]

    Doctor Gerard N. Burrow was the doctor who allegedly reviewed the program at the request of Deputy Secretary of Defense Rudy DeLeon. Dr. Burrow concluded that “[t]he anthrax vaccine appears to be safe and offers the best available protection against wild-type anthrax as a biological warfare agent.”[xv] Unfortunately, Dr. Burrow is a professor of gynecology at Yale University School of Medicine, a specialty that one would not normally associate with some expertise in weaponized anthrax toxins. When that unfortunate snippet from his CV leaked out, Dr. Burrow was subsequently asked by Congress to testify about his review at a 29 Apr 1999 hearing. He declined to appear. Instead, in a 26 Apr 1999 letter to Representative Christopher Shays (R-CT), Burrow stated that

    “[t]he Defense Department was looking for some [sic] to review the program in general and make suggestions, and I accepted out of patriotism. I was very clear that I had no expertise in Anthrax and they were very clear they were looking for a general oversight of the vaccination program.”[xvi]

    The DoD’s claims of misinformation on the internet had a particularly hollow ring in light of its blatant lack of honesty and candor in having something as simple as an independent review conducted. Nothing was ever done about this lie that was foisted off on American servicemembers. No one has ever been taken to task for this laughably blatant fraud perpetrated on U.S. military members and the broader American public.

    Thus, in the end, the DoD’s four-point plan to reassure the public and servicemembers of the safety of the anthrax program – as a prerequisite to beginning inoculation – was nothing more than a PR campaign that ultimately cost the DoD credibility that it did not have to spare. As the truth came out, and was certainly made available on the internet and elsewhere, the DoD’s cries of “misinformation” went unheeded. Service members on active duty and in the reserves began to refuse or leave the service rather than take the anthrax shot.

    If the DoD’s actions appear incredible, the FDA’s inaction is equally baffling.  The FDA is charged, under the Administrative Procedures Act, with the duty and authority to regulate, among many other things, the safety of drugs and biologic products. The FDA has had no hesitation in cracking down on manufacturers who do not comply with its regulations or decisions. The cases in the D.C circuit are legion with the FDA disciplining manufacturers who try to market a drug for a purpose not clearly delineated on the approved labeling or who otherwise fail to comply with IND protocols.[xvii] For some reason, however, in the case of the AVA, the FDA had an absolutely incestuous relationship with the DoD, a third-party who was NOT even the manufacturer! Letters were exchanged between the two agencies regarding non-compliance with IND protocols after the IND protocol was not properly administered in Bosnia. At the March 17, 1998, hearing, the following colloquy took place on this issue between Senator Rockefeller and Dr. Wykoff, the FDA’s associate director for operations.

    Rockefeller:  . . . It’s also not clear to me that FDA’s shoes are entirely clear or clean on this matter. In fact, some would say lax.  I think that FDA and DoD have been exchanging letters about all of this for some months now. And the fact is that seven years after the Gulf War, the situation is still not resolved. If DoD does not adequately answer FDA’s questions with respect to these matters and others, what is FDA going to do about it?  . . . And why, for example, was it necessary for the Presidential Advisory Commission to address the waived informed consent matter six years after the end of the war? So I put to you what FDA would recommend and would do if DoD does not come in compliance more?

    Wykoff:  . . . We have tried very hard to make sure that they are absolutely clear what our rules and regulations are and what our expectations are. We believe that they understand that. We believe that they have the capability of complying with all of our IND rules and regulations. As to whether they will comply in the next deployment situation, obviously we can’t predict that.

    Rockefeller: And if they don’t, is there anything that you can do about it?

    Wykoff: Yes, sir. Obviously, there are a range of options that we have. We would have to determine what the specific concerns are. That drives what are specific actions would be.

    Rockefeller: What are some of the options?

    Wykoff: Well, as we interact with any trial sponsor, we learn more about their ability to conduct IND trials, we would be more or less willing to grant waivers or exemptions to particular requirements.  We could hold them to more – all of the requirements as outlined in the rules and regulations – based on their performance.[xviii]

    It boggles the mind to think that the first words out of the FDA’s mouth are talk of waivers for non-compliance with regulations, particularly in light of DoD’s history in this area. There was, and is, a clearly documented squeamishness on the part of the FDA to step in and bring the DoD into compliance. In downright shocking testimony before a House Committee, Dr. Kathryn Zoon of CBER was questioned by Rep. Christopher Shays (R-CT) about the FDA’s regulatory responsibility.

    ZOON: This is a licensed vaccine. If a physician uses it or DoD uses it, that does not really fall under our jurisdiction.

    SHAYS: So it’s your statement before us now that if DoD doesn’t abide by the protocol, you have no responsibility? That you have set out a requirement? Who is responsible then? Who’s going to make sure that DoD abides by the protocol, if you don’t do it?

    ZOON: We don’t have the authority.

    SHAYS: I can’t believe – I just want to say, Dr. Zoon, I cannot believe that you have just said under oath that you do not have the responsibility to deal with this issue or the authority. You said you don’t have the authority.

    ZOON: I said – yes, that’s correct.

    SHAYS: That is your testimony.

    ZOON: We don’t have the authority.

    SHAYS: Well then who is going to protect our men and women if you aren’t going to do it? Who? Who has the authority?

    The tricky part of this testimony is that it is partly correct. The FDA does not regulate end-users of a product, normally. That is, they do not tell an individual doctor, for example, that he cannot use a drug off-label. Two important caveats to that “normal” example, however. First, the normal patient can’t and isn’t being compelled by their doctor to take anything; they can decline, and they can also sue if something happens as a result of the doctor’s malpractice. A military member has neither of those options. Second, and more directly on point, if the end-user is participating in a clinical protocol, then the FDA does regulate that user. Thus, the DoD’s participation in BioPort’s IND application in order to get an indication against aerosolized anthrax should make them subject to FDA regulation, just as the DoD was during the Gulf War when applying for a Rule 23(d) waiver. FDA’s willingness to accede to DoD’s interpretation essentially allowed the DoD to completely slide on their responsibilities. Some lawyer’s or regulator’s intentional misinterpretation of the FDA’s own regulations resulted in an open abdication of the FDA’s regulatory role over the AVA.

    FDA officials have repeatedly acceded to DoD doctors’ interpretations of the anthrax vaccine label, as well. This is an absurdity, particularly appalling in light of the DoD’s involvement in the manufacturing process. The DoD fundamentally became a manufacturer, for all intents and purposes, and the FDA looked the other way, hiding behind the fiction that the DoD was an “end-user” when convenient. The DoD was involved from the very beginning in the development of the anthrax vaccine. Additionally, when problems arose with the manufacturer, the DoD sent in its own ‘inspection’ teams to ensure the supply of the vaccine. The DoD had paramount liens on every piece of equipment that the manufacturer has. A GAO report in June 1999 found that

    DOD has made a significant investment in renovating BioPort’s biologic facility to meet the military’s requirements for anthrax vaccine . . . Since 1988, DOD has provided about $112 million in contracts, including options, to help ensure the viability of the anthrax vaccine biologic facility. As shown in figure 1, DoD’s contracts provided monies to (1) produce the vaccine, (2) renovate and expand the production facility, (3) provide various support services, and (4) purchase equipment to enhance production capacity. DoD has also provided contract terms and conditions to help ensure the success of the anthrax vaccine program. For example, under Public Law 85-804, which allows for government indemnification of contractors for unusually hazardous risks, DoD indemnified BioPort against product liability. In addition, DoD agreed to allow the company to sell up to 200,000 doses of anthrax vaccine to others, using government-furnished equipment rent-free, after DoD’s requirements are met.[xix]

    Amazingly, this is chump change compared to what the Defense Contract Auditing Agency found in 2000! That report led to an Inspector General Investigation. Notwithstanding numerous audits that found that the company was not financially viable, BioPort requested contract amendments that included $1.28 million in bonuses for senior management that amounted to 109% of the managers’ base salary. This was deemed an “unreasonable expenditure” by the DCAA in light of “BioPort’s current financial condition.”[xx] Okay, so someone disapproved, right? Well, sort of, because the manufacturer had almost no real financial incentive to produce an FDA approved vaccine under its contracts with DoD to begin with: the contract paid the manufacturer 90% of the contract price before the FDA ever inspected the vaccine. Yes, read that again.

    Put another way, BioPort only got paid 10% more for the product being approved by the FDA. At one point, the Department of Justice was looking into criminal charges as some $6 to $8 Million of the money provided to the manufacturer was unaccounted for.  Additionally, the fact the former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral William Crowe was a co-owner of the facility, as well as Dr. Robert Myers, (formerly of MDPH and MBPI) can hardly escape attention. Crowe was the first senior military officer to have come out publicly in support of then-Democratic party candidate for the Presidency, Arkansas governor Bill Clinton. While both Crowe and Myers disavowed any “inside” preferential treatment from the DoD, one must wonder if the decision to award BioPort the contract had anything to do with either’s presence as an owner. Finally, emails from inside the DoD suggest that the agency actually had its own people “on site.” During hearings held by Representative Christopher Shays in May 1999, an email was sent from Brigadier General Eddie Cain, the Director of the Joint Program Office for Biological Defense, to an Army Colonel John V. Wade. In the email Cain warned that “[I]f you think Congressman Shays was critical of the current relationship between FDA & DOD, wait until he finds out that DOD is calling the shots on-sight.” [sic][xxi] When this email surfaced during the court-martial of Air Force Captain (and medical Doctor) John Buck, the FDA had “no comment.”

    The FDA has, for whatever reasons, backed down from the DoD to the point that after the warning letters, the notice of intent to revoke, and a failed inspection thereafter, the agency still withheld pulling the manufacturer’s license because the DoD interceded on behalf of the company. In a June 25, 2000, interview with the Vancouver newspaper The Province, Mark Elengold, the Deputy Director for CBER, explained what happened.

    The FDA held off pulling the licence, in part because it would have left the U.S. Department of Defence [sic] – which had just announced that all soldiers were to receive anthrax vaccine – with no domestic source.

    “This is a one-source product so we tend to try to work with firms and put additional monitoring steps in to avoid revoking the licence,” said Elengold.  The prestigious British medical journal Lancet reported at the time that ‘a plea from the Pentagon has prevented an ‘eleventh-hour’ closure of the only U.S. producer of anthrax vaccine,” according to an e-mail to DND [DOD?] medical headquarters in February 1998.

    Elengold confirmed the Pentagon sat in on a crucial call to the company in which he discussed revoking the licence.”[xxii]

    Electronic mails surfaced in and around 2000 show not only did the DoD convince the FDA not to revoke the license, but DoD also attempted to bully both the manufacturer and the Government Accounting Office at the same time. In one e-mail, a Pentagon official discusses how other agency supervisors were urging the U.S. Food and Drug Administration and the manufacturer of the vaccine to release lots that had been held up for scrutiny by them (the FDA). This despite Secretary Cohen’s public insistence on supplemental testing to ensure safety of the vaccine, one should remember.

    On Feb. 22. 1999, Dr. Michael Gilbreath, a civilian Pentagon biological defense employee sent an email to U.S. Army Brig. Gen. Eddie Cain, then Director of the Joint Program Office of Biological Defense (JPOBD). Gilbreath wrote that he had “received information this morning from BioPort that individuals within the DOD contacted them and threatened that DOD would circumvent BioPort and contact the FDA regarding availability of anthrax vaccine lots currently under review at the FDA . . . Any such actions by DOD would be inappropriate.”[xxiii]

    E-mails also reveal that the Pentagon was having trouble countering the U.S. General Accounting Office’s assertion that the vaccine is improperly licensed, and that it has not been proven safe and effective. Cain indicated in one e-mail that then Secretary of Defense William Cohen would be writing to the GAO, whose findings have consistently gone against the Pentagon, to protest “the expertise put on this (vaccine) project” by the watchdog agency.

    “If we cannot answer these questions, we (DOD and the Administration) are in big time trouble,” Cain said in the May 3 e-mail. “…We are digging ourselves a hole that will be too difficult to crawl out of.”[xxiv]

    The FDA also stood by when adulterated vaccine was shipped to the Canadian military and when 59 Marines were given shots from expired lots of the vaccine.[xxv] The FDA’s complicity with the DoD’s actions has left service members with no recourse but to either take the shot, be court-martialed for refusing, or leave the service somehow if their commitment allows it. If the service member simply will not take the chance on the vaccine’s safety, the penalty for refusing is court-martial with a certain conviction. Military Judges simply would not hear that the vaccine is investigational, nor would they even allow service members to present that information to a jury. The FDA’s refusal to act leaves the judge with an out: if the FDA thought it was investigational, why wouldn’t they just issue an opinion to that effect? Worse yet, some military judges would not wade through the necessary materials in order to understand the FDA regulatory process and what an IND is, or they would find that the Secretary of Defense’s actions were in legal parlance “non-justiciable” disputes between “co-equal branches of government.”

    The member who fights will be convicted and punished. When an Air Force Doctor, John Buck, tried to submit evidence that the specific lot that he was to have received, FAV044, was subject to a recall because it was expired, the judge did not allow the evidence to come into court. The only option left for service members was to resign quietly, leave at the end of a service obligation, or fight behind the scenes to ensure that the law is followed. That is what a group of persistent officers had been doing from the word go.

    Endnotes

    [1] It would take up too much space to detail all of the failed lots, for their various reasons during the February 20, 1998, CBER inspection on the lots of AVA. Some of the more egregious violations are listed. See CBER Inspection report dtd 2/20/98 for a complete listing.

    [i] FDA Form 483 Inspectional Observations Feb. 4-20, 1998.

    [ii] Id.

    [iii] Id.

    [iv] May 15, 1998, SecDef memo.

    [v] Nov 6, 1997, background briefing

    [vi] Mar 17, 1998 Senate Hearing, Committee on Veterans Affairs Holds Hearing on the Nomination of Togo West as Secretary of Veterans Affairs and on U.S. Biologic Vaccines for Gulf War Veterans.

    [vii] “Abysmal” tracking job quote ????

    [viii] Id.

    [ix] GAO Report T–NSIAD-98-83 p.8 (March 17, 1998).

    [x] Id.

    [xi] 18 May 99 AF memo

    [xii] Charles Cragin, PDASD Reserve Affairs, testimony, 3 Oct 2000.  See: http://www.house.gov/reform/hearings/healthcare/00.10.03/cragin.htm

    [xiii] William Arkin, “Bugged by the Net”, Washington Post online, 27 Sep 1999.  See: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/national/dotmil/arkin092799.htm

    [xiv] AVIP Impl ltr 18 May 98

    [xv]  See: http://www.defenselink.mil/other_info/burrows.html

    [xvi] Id.

    [xvii]

    [xviii] Mar 17, 1998 Senate Hearing, Committee on Veterans Affairs Holds Hearing on the Nomination of Togo West as Secretary of Veterans Affairs and on U.S. Biologic Vaccines for Gulf War Veterans.

    [xix] GAO Report GAO T-NSIAD-99-214,  (June 30, 1999)

    [xx] IG Report dtd March 22, 2000.

    [xxi] Dave Eberhart, Stars and Stripes.  May, 2001.

    [xxii] Ann Rees, “Their Dangerous Dose”, The Province [Vancouver, Canada], 25 Jun 2000

    [xxiii] E-mails Suggest Pentagon Pressured FDA On Anthrax Vaccine, Thomas D. Williams, Hartford Courant, May 17, 2001.

    [xxiv] Id.

    [xxv] See Most Dangerous Dose (Canadian article on vaccine) and GAO report on Marines T-NSIAD-00-36.

  • That awkward moment Mexico beats the United States at something.

    In the news over the past few, several articles came out speculating Mexico to be the next to legalize marijuana. While you could theoretically get it there anyways, it wasn’t exactly legal for anybody without large quantities of cash on hand to pay off Mexican cops.  So it is in this sense, they beat us at something other than fútbol.

    This is my review of Hemptails Citrus Gold

    How does this work in Mexico?  A brief rundown of how the court functions can be found here.  For those of you capable of reading Spanish above the college level (don’t look at me), here is the official webpage for Suprema Corte de Justicia de la Nación. If you want to dig up the court decision, I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.  For everyone else, it takes five repeated decisions from the Mexican Supreme Court to set enough legal precedent to compel their legislative body to act.  Do they need the court’s permission first?  Of course not.  It might be a fun thought experiment in this country if this is how that worked.

    Hopefully just as a thought experiment; I am in no way advocating this.  Can you imagine the idiotic things they could come up based on the way certain SCOTUS justices find things in the Constitution that aren’t exactly written in there?

    Those decisions came in November of last year, so it was only a matter of time before they were going to get around to it.

    “This 5th judgement means that, while the cannabis prohibition law nominally remains in place for now (and arrests remain possible), all judges nationally are now bound by the Supreme Court judgement as a defense in the (now much less likely) scenario of prosecutions being brought,” according to Transform, a think tank that was part of the effort to overturn the ban. “The legalisation of cannabis for adult personal use, possession, private cultivation and sharing is therefore currently de facto(in practical effect), rather than de jure (formalised in law/legislation).”

    It appears they will finish the job by the end of the month.

    Senator Julio Menchaca Salazar introduced a legalization bill last month that seeks to establish a comprehensive regulatory framework. Under Salazar’s bill, Mexico’s Department of Health would regulate the cultivation, processing, and transportation of cannabis.

    In Mexico’s lower house, the Chamber of Deputies, leader Mario Delgado Carillo introduced a bill that would formally set up a legalized market whereby the government would have a state monopoly on cannabis sales. Carillo’s bill envisions a great deal of the revenue from marijuana sales going to social programs.

    […]

    Both chambers of the Mexican legislature are controlled by the MORENA Party, which President López founded. MORENA is a left-of-center political party that was founded in 2014.

    Monreal says members of the Chamber of Deputies, the other half of Mexico’s legislature, will be invited to provide feedback on the legalization bill.

    Good for them.  No seriously.

    Woof. Is that a promise?

    One of the arguments for legalization of cannabis in the United States is rooted in the practical experience we can take from the 18th Amendment, which prohibited alcohol between 1920 to 1933.  I know that you are likely capable of reading in English at the 4th grade level, and coming to the basic conclusion from the article linked above,  Americans still drank alcohol during that time.  It was provided by bootleggers, distributed by rumrunners—basically people willing to be criminals to make a living.  People willing to be criminals in one sense to make a living are probably willing to be criminals in another sense, which is basically the plot to Breaking Bad.  The problem of course is nearly nobody alive today was around to see it, and schools appear to jump from the civil war, directly to the civil rights era in history class.  Given the level of violent crime in Mexico, if nothing else we’ll probably get to see this in action again….or they just switch to growing poppies and continue shooting each other.

    It probably will not mean much for those that go to Mexico from time to time.  Turns out cannabis is still mostly illegal here and Border Patrol is still actively searching for drugs at border crossings.  Unless of course you were already a mule…

     

    They call this a “malt beverage” but I drank this explicitly for purposes of this review.   There is little redeeming quality to this beverage and any reasonable person might be comfortable with it being made illegal.  Thankfully, nobody around here might be considered reasonable. Hemptails Citrus Gold:  1.5/5

     

  • A day at the park

    In the summer of ’81, I was 15 years old. I wasn’t your average teen. I was a committed juvenile delinquent and drug “enthusiast,” with a somewhat troubled past. My parents were hippies who–like many counter culture rebels–became hard core drug addicts. They divorced during a state mandated custody battle. The cops seized my siblings and myself because my parents refused to snitch on their dealer, basically. I spent two years (’76-’77) with my grandmother, who was a vicious and mean, high-strung stress case with an extreme superiority complex. My Mom eventually regained custody of us and we returned to our outlaw life. After a few years, and developing a drug habit, I tired of the poverty and stress of it all. I was offered to return to my Grandma’s house and I accepted. I returned much more street smart and ready to party it up.

    The San Fernando valley in the early eighties was a great place to party. Cruising Van Nuys Blvd (if you google “cruising Van Nuys Blvd” you can see what it was like) had been shut down about a year earlier and that scene had moved to a large park called Balboa Park. The lot would fill with cars, all of which would tune their radios to KMET, and a huge party would happen. Every once in awhile, the cops would drive through and everyone would hide their beers and what have you. It was a great scene.

    My friends and I would buy six packs of Mickey’s big mouths and split them. You’d put one beer in each back pocket and drink the third. That way, if you had to run, you only lose one beer. We had a plan for everything. This informal gathering happened every Wednesday night, just like the Van Nuys Blvd scene it replaced. We had many memorable times there, and this story centers around the last one I had there, during the summer of ’81.

    This photo was actually taken at Balboa Park on a Wednesday in 1981 or 1982 . Obviously it’s early in the day and things were just getting started.

     

    I had a friend named Marvin. Marvin was far more criminally minded than I. He had been to juvie a few times and had a huge record. He’d dive right in to any criminally oriented situation with aplomb. He pushed me to expand my lack of respect for the law. I was positively small-time by comparison.

    Marvin was very small. I was about 6” taller than him. I was kind of a protector of his. He’d get belligerent often and at ill-advised times, and I’d usually smooth things over with whomever wanted to kill him this time. Sometimes a fight would be unavoidable. Those times we’d just fight it out.

    This particular Wednesday night was off to a good start when I ran into Marvin. I was already a little drunk, had my three Mickey’s big mouths and was raring to go. Marvin pulls out some ‘ludes and gives me two of them. I was starting to feel really good about things, a feeling later proven to be misguided. As we walked the rows of cars, talking to girls and checking out hot-rods, this big dude runs up and starts hassling Marvin. Here we go again.

    I go to assess the situation. It seems that the ‘ludes Marvin had given me earlier had been fronted to him and he had no plan to pay for them. The big dude seemed very agitated and was demanding his 20 bucks. I sprang into negotiating mode and asked what he needed that we could maybe actually get for him. After some back and forth, we agreed that Marvin and I would go steal a car battery as payment. This seemed like an easy was to avoid violence, and we were sure it’d be quick and painless.

    There was really only one option for stealing car batteries near this park, a row of apartment buildings across the street. We went to the first car, in the first space of the first building. It turned out to be a horrible choice. There was an overhead storage locker which covered the front half of the hood. I told Marvin to be the lookout, so he stood at the edge of the lot watching out. I had no tools, but I figured I could just wind the clamps off. The hood crashed loudly into the storage bin when opened. I got the negative cable off as planned, but the positive side would not budge more than a slight partial turn. Eventually, I decided to just yank it out and hope the inertia would pop it off. Drugs and booze famously spawn bad decisions. We had both the former and the latter.

    Well, after one particularly loud crashing noise I see Marvin waving at me frantically. I start waving back to say, “I can’t help it,” but he responds as if to say, “NO, not that.” Then, he raises both his hands like a stick-up victim from the movies. I was perplexed until I saw the three people with guns pointed at him. They told me to come out with my hands up, so I did. They ushered us into one of the apartments and sat us on the couch inside. There were more armed residents inside and now we had about 6 guns pointed at us. I remember one of them looked like a flint lock taken from a plaque off the wall. Anyway, they held us until the cops arrived. I’m sure the proximity of the park caused them much concern, with all the partying and such, explaining the guns and quickness with which they used them.

    The cops took us down to the station and handcuffed us to bench. After about an hour, Marvin’s Mom came and picked him up. I assumed my grandmother would come for me next. Well, an hour later, she still hadn’t come. Finally the cops came and told me that she had told them to keep me. I was going to be driven to Juvenile Hall. Whoo-hoo! After another hour on the bench, they walked me out to a waiting car and we were on our way.

    Juvie was pretty much what I expected. It was a huge concrete building with only tiny windows way up high on one wall. It was three floors high and the lesser offenders like me were on the upper floor. That meant we could watch the traffic on the overpass through our window slits, if we stood up on our beds. The food was disgusting and the place was noisy and smelly and fucking cold all the time. We stayed in our cells almost all day. Ate in there and everything. There were some tables in the hall area outside the cells and we’d go out for about an hour every day. I spent about two months there going to trial and then waiting to get shipped out. I remember the radio played the Stevie Nicks/Tom Petty duet over and over because it had just came out. I will always connect that song to that place and time.

    This is the actual juvenile hall I was in, as seen from one of the cars we would watch pass by.

     

    Juvenile court is (or, at least, was…) unlike any other depiction or reality of court I had ever seen. As a minor, you have NO rights at all. There’s no concerns about proportionate punishments, rights to confront accusers, even the right to defend oneself. Marvin’s Mom had hired a lawyer for him and he (the lawyer) was the only one who spoke, other than the judge and, briefly, some kind of social worker/probation person, who made recommendations to the judge. Marvin’s lawyer gave a dissertation on what a good kid he was and how the only reason he was in trouble was because of my bad influence. I was steaming mad and kept raising my hand. The judge seemed irritated by me and kept waving me to shut up. After awhile he proclaimed that he had heard enough. Marvin was sentenced to house arrest and probation and I was sentenced to “suitable placement.” For how long, I had no idea. What suitable placement was, again, no clue. All I knew was I got jacked in that courtroom.

    Well, one day they drove me out to my “suitable placement.” It was a large group of brick buildings arranged like a school, with a quad, dorms and a cafeteria. It was run by Catholic monks. Everyone was “Brother X, Brother Z,” etc. There weren’t any walls or fences, so escape was always an option. Only the knowledge that I would be hunted down kept me from just leaving, well, that and the constant reminders that the next place was gonna be much worse. There was a school adjacent to the facility and we would spend regular school hours there. I was assigned a job in the kitchen and a dorm space with a cabinet and a bed. We had group therapy every day, where we’d talk about our problems and receive any news about our status, etc. The staff got to determine how long we would have to stay. We got weekend passes which we could earn in various ways. I had to talk my grandma into letting me go to a few at her house (I’m pretty sure the staff called her and made it happen). I got two weekend passes, one of which turned out to be transformative.

    There was three things that stood out as notable events while there. First, when I had just arrived, a guy in the kitchen had a half a joint. He was gonna share it with me. I figured we could put a ladder all the way up to the vent so the smoke could escape without smelling the place up. Then, we decided to cover any remaining smell with a mixture of all the cleaning products available, particularly the strong smelling ones.

    It turns out that mixing these chemicals can cause a variety of symptoms, including loss of consciousness and even death. Who knew? All the fumes rose to the top of the room, where we were atop the ladder. The fumes were so overwhelming, I couldn’t tell if the pot had any effect. The other guy fell off the ladder, hurt himself and I had to go get him help. The whole thing was viewed as us mixing the wrong chemicals and we never got into trouble because they never found out about the pot.

    The second thing was much more consequential. On my second weekend pass, I was out looking to get high. I ran into a friend and asked if he had any dope. He said he didn’t but he was going to a meeting and I was welcome to go. I had to cram as much into my time as possible and there was nothing going on so I said, “yes.”

    We drove to some little room in a church. I walked in and immediately thought, “there’s no way these are my kind of people.” They all had cars and jobs and they seemed like normal people. Then they started talking. They talked about all the things I was doing as a delinquent and how they had done similar and felt bad about it. They talked about having a conscience and how it seemed no-one else did. They talked about how it felt to know you were gonna keep doing dope, no matter if it killed you and how hopeless it felt. They seemed to have a window into my soul and made me look at myself in ways I never thought I could.

    Prior to that I had all those thoughts and feelings, I just never considered saying them so out loud. I watched people (in my fucked up outlaw world, anyway) go steal, fight, scam and do any manner of devious stuff and never seem to have any feelings of guilt. I assumed that I had to do these things and I would force myself to, but I was wracked with guilt. I thought my guilt was a personal defect which kept me from being all I could be. My life to that point had been a constant battle with my morality to overcome its influence and finally feel the way others looked like they felt. I had never imagined that they all experienced the same turmoil. Now I had proof. I was hooked. I got sober and stayed that way for 30 years.

    I was the only one at my placement who had gotten sober. I began to explore my soul and how it worked to regulate my morality. I completely changed my outlook and focus. In the group therapy sessions, I started actually being helpful to the other kids. I started helping them to solve their problems or at least begin to. The average stay there was about 6 months. Some people stayed 5 and some 7. I stayed a whole year. I’m pretty sure some of that was to find a suitable foster home (more on the “suitability” later) but I’m pretty sure my effectiveness at counseling the other kids played a part in extending my stay, as well. In any case, I set the record for longest stay for at least that era. Even a couple of other kids who went to foster homes were released after 6 months.

    It was during this time that I developed an ulcer. I was taken to the doctor who injected me with some dye and then x-rayed me. Back then, they had no real drugs for this so they just gave me a list of what not to eat. It was basically everything. Because I was institutionalized, they made me actually stick to it. I spent the last month there eating plain mashed potatoes and egg whites with no seasonings. It was hell. Every meal was a plate of bland whiteness. It sucked balls. I was getting really fed up with the system and wanted out bad.

    Eventually, the day came when I was allowed to leave. I was to move to a foster home in a good neighborhood with one other kid who already lived there. Oddly, the “parent” was just a single man, not a couple. I was happy to be leaving and ready to go out into the world. The guy seemed nice enough and the other kid was OK, I guess. I was happy to able to go to meetings and be out in the world, finally. It was about 14 months after I had tried to steal the car battery, and I was finally free to walk the streets, or so I thought.

    The other kid that lived there was a full-on fuck-up. He would waltz in with a shiny new stereo and claim he found it in an alley. He’d say that he hoped it worked and then try it out. Amazingly they always worked. The “parent” seemed to buy all of this hook, line and sinker. This kid never got in any trouble whatsoever. He even got brought home by the cops once for some crime or another. The guy never even asked about any of this. In my case, however, if I was a few minutes past curfew, there’d be handcuffs on the tables and endless threats to send me back. It was clear that the other kid was immune from trouble and I had a target on my back. I was young and at least somewhat naive, so I never really understood what was going on until after I decided to leave.

    One day I had had enough. I decided to find my bank book with my kitchen job earnings (about $300.00) and split. It was over a year and a half since my crime. I figured that I had paid my debt and was not going to live under this cloud of threats any more. I ditched high school and went hunting for my bank book. As I rifled the drawers in the “parent’s” room, I hit one that was locked. I assumed my stuff was in there, so I used a playing card to open it. Inside was a huge cache of gay porn and some sex toys that seemed like they were aimed towards women, IYNWIMAITYD. That’s when I started to remember a bunch of details. I would come home in the middle of the day and both the “parent” and the other kid would be in bath robes. Sometimes the kid would be taking a bath and the parent guy would go into the bathroom and stay 20 minutes or so. I realized that this guy was fucking the kid and knew I wasn’t going to be down with that. He was trying to get rid of me to cover it up. At that moment, he came in and started yelling about me being a thief, because I jimmied open his drawer. I really wanted to beat the living hell out of him with a lamp. I mean badly. The guy was a minister at a huge church, someone who convinced the state he could look after wayward teenaged boys, and this was what he did. I restrained myself and just left, not even bothering to find my bank book.

    It was not easy, being alone on the streets at 16 years old. On top of that, I had a warrant for going AWOL. I started using a fake name, at least for anything official (like talking to the cops). I slept in an abandoned bar across the street from my AA clubhouse for a few months. I would put 4 bar stools together for a bed. I spent my days in bookstores reading book after book. I really can’t remember how I fed myself.

    Eventually, I started getting jobs doing drywall or framing houses. Back then, you could buy a tool belt full of tools and just walk up to a jobsite and ask for work. 8 or 10 bucks an hour and if you worked really hard, they’d keep you. Nobody asked for ID or social security info. I did phone sales, auto repos and a bunch of other crap, too. Eventually, I got a job from a guy at the meeting in title insurance. It paid OK and I started saving a bit. Finally, I went to trade school for auto repair and became a mechanic.

    One day, I hitchhiked to Santa Barbara with a friend of mine. We just went to hang out and have fun. We were walking down State Street and as we walked, I was cleaning my finger nails with a buck knife. My friend bumped into me a few times. I kept telling him to watch where he was going, but he persisted. Finally, I stopped and adamantly told him to knock it off. Right as I was doing this, a guy walks up and asks, “what are you doing?” He was just a regular looking guy with a Levi’s jacket on. I said, “nothing, just messing around,” and realized I had my knife in my hand, so I folded it and put it away. Well, he opened his coat and pulled out a gun and yelled, “Freeze!” which was silly, because we weren’t moving. We put our hands up and he took his coat off to reveal a Santa Barbara Police shirt. He arrested me for “disturbing the peace.” I used my middle name for a first name and my Mom’s maiden name for the last one. I told him I was 18 years old, so they took me to the county jail. This was on a Friday night.

    I sat in jail until Sunday evening, when they called out my alias. I had forgotten it by then so there was significant lag time in my responding. Eventually, I caught on and answered up. The officer told me to roll ’em up because I had made bail. I was shocked. The only one who even knew I was there was my friend and he was 16 also and penniless. The cop walked me down some halls and finally stopped me in a quiet spot. He told me that some friends from L.A. had come up to look for me after my friend hitched back down there and told them what happened. They went to juvenile hall, the police station, the hospital, basically everywhere before ending up at the jail. They tried every combination of my name with no luck (they didn’t know what my alias was).

    Finally, they asked to see pictures of arrestees from Friday night and found me that way. The cop said they told him my whole story and he was impressed. He said he was gonna let me them bail me out, but first he took me on a scared straight tour. This guy killed his mom, that guy stole a car, etc. Then he gave me a hundred bucks and said, “don’t come back to my jail,” and I was out.

    I tried to make good on his admonition, but it wasn’t to be. About 2 years later, I was riding my motorcycle around and got pulled over. I had long since stopped using fake names, so I gave them my real name. They gave me a chicken shit ticket for loud pipes or dim tail lights or something and after I signed it, they whipped my hands behind my back and handcuffed me. I asked what they were doing and they said I had a warrant from Santa Barbara. Damnit!

    This time, I went to L.A. County Jail and had to sit there for 5 days until a bus left for up north. I rode up with all the people who were sentenced to state prison. I got to Santa Barbara jail on Friday, so I had to wait until Monday to see a judge. When I finally did, he seemed pissed that I was there. He said, “years ago you did basically nothing on State Street, there’s not even any peace on State Street to disturb! Now, you’ve spent ten days in jail, and forfeited $100.00 bail for no good reason. I apologize and the case is dismissed.” So now, I get released at like 11 p.m. in Santa Barbara with no money and no way home. I hitched home and it took all fucking night. When I finally got home, my motorcycle had been impounded and cost me about $600.00 to get it out.

    I could go on, but this seems like as good of a place as any to end this story. My life, both before and after these events, has been filled with the similar craziness, this is just one sliver of it. BTW, Santa Barbara County Jail, circa early 1980s, was a WAY better place to be an inmate than either L.A. County Jail or Sylmar Juvenile Hall.

     

    P.S. When I adopted my son 7 years ago, I told this story in somewhat abbreviated form, to our social worker. She was amazed, not by that fact that it happened, but by the fact that I turned out OK. She said, basically, “ most of those kids end up spending their whole lives in prison.”

     

  • The Glibening, Part Eight: Curiouser and Curiouser…

    Tu musica

    Previously…

    The door opened and Ramesh found himself face to face with a Troll, a Troll like in The Hobbit. The Troll was doing a dope deal with a chunky young Korean dude.

    “Oh shit, the cops,” shrieked the dude.

    And at that moment Ramesh remembered that he was wearing a badge.

    Today’s Story…

    The Troll stood about six foot eight even with his slouchy posture, with a bald head and gray goatee, and several obvious piercings. He was fat, like three neckrolls fat, and dressed in Doc Martens boots, calf-length baggy black jorts, and a black t-shirt with the Thought! Magazine nameplate over his left breast. And large and surprisingly shapely breasts they were, which was a bit unnerving for Ramesh. The Troll looked at Ramesh and grinned widely. His teeth weren’t as fangy as Ramesh expected, and were clean and some had silver fillings.

    “Look who’s back. Hi Doc,” said the Troll to Ramesh before turning back to the dude.

    “Stuff it, Cho. Doc Bombay ain’t no more a cop than me.”

    “Nice suit, Doc,” said the Troll, turning back to Ramesh. “Big change from your usual outfit.”

    “Hi. Thanks.” said Ramesh, very curious but deciding his best action was to play along. He recognized the handle “Doctor Bombay, You Know from Mumbai” from lurking on the Thought! website at his boss’ behest. Perhaps all South Asians looked alike to Trolls, and obviously the dude didn’t know Doctor Bombay.

    “Hey, can you drop something off with Mario,” the Troll asked Ramesh.

    “Sure.”

    “Great, I’ll make it worth your while. Here’s his zee,” said the Troll producing a sealed plastic bag of weed.

    Alea iacta est,” thought Ramesh and stepped through the door.

    “Here’s a bud for you. Pineapple Express.” The Troll unpalmed a smallish colita and handed it to Ramesh along with the bag.

    Duuuuuuude...
    “Pineapple Express combines the potent and flavorful forces of parent strains Trainwreck and Hawaiian… This hard-hitting sativa-dominant hybrid provides a long-lasting energetic buzz perfect for productive afternoons and creative escapes.” -Leafly

    Ramesh had smoked quite a bit of pot before becoming a federal prosecutor. His gift bud appeared to be from the same batch as the weed in the bag. He gave the megabud a good sniff. It was indeed the Express, and of a most fragrant character. “Thanks,” he nodded appreciatively to the Troll and dropped the pot into his suit coat pocket.

    “What are you going to be, Doc? Detective? Which timeline?”

    “Junior federal prosecutor, working for Preet,” said Ramesh, remembering that the truth was the best lie of all.

    “Hurr-Durr,” laughed Godwin. “No way…”

    Wow, so Trolls really did laugh like that, thought Ramesh.

    Godwin’s laugh degenerated into a long, nasty series of lung noises which culminated in the production of a sizeable loogie which the Troll expertly spat into a short, widemouthed brass vase sitting on the floor. The loogie hit with enough force to cause the vase to tip slightly, whereupon it started rotating making a wuka-wuka noise before finally coming to rest. The oyster, which had been sitting on the lip of the vase covering the opening, slowly burbled up then burst with a wet “plorp” and oozed slowly into the vase.

    “Hey Godwin, my bags look kind of light,” whined Cho holding up two anemic snack baggies containing shake, stems, and seeds – the worst sort of schoolyard schwag.

    “Take it or leave it, Cho. And tell Mr. Rico Suave he’ll get a nicer bag if he came down himself instead of sending his fanboi interns, and buy more than a dime bag at a time. You’d think he could afford that, right? Your bag is light because of the risk I’m taking,” said Godwin hooking his huge thumb at the sign on the door. “I’m doing good in commenter training and don’t want to fuck it up. Why are you still here?”

    "You raise a really good point there, Shika."

    Cho stuffed the bags in the pocket of his skinny jeans, and hustled out the door and up the steps, shaking his fulsome rump in its stretchy denim cradle to Godwin’s obvious enjoyment. “Doctor Gilhooly is right, you people are all just one step away from Nazis,” called Cho petulantly over his shoulder.

    Ramesh expected Godwin to pursue and catch Cho, and subsequently dismember and/or eat him. Instead, Godwin just slammed the great door shut and began beating on it with his huge fists. “That little shit,” bellowed Godwin. Ramesh now understood how the dimple had formed in the door.

    “Hey, could you have the Paw do me one last time,” asked Godwin, still slightly tumescent from his scene with Cho and subsequent raging.

    Ramesh didn’t know what Godwin meant by “do me,” but he was about to find out. He had nothing against gay, but working a zombie monkey paw to give a Troll a telekinetic handy was just a bit out there.

    “Sure,” he said, playing for time.

    To Ramesh’s surprise, Godwin turned his back and bent over slightly cupping his knees with his huge palms. There was ample buttcrack showing. The troll was wearing a black jockstrap with “NASTYPIG” woven into the waistband fabric in red, along with a pig snout logo. Ramesh suddenly felt queasy, like an hour after Chipotle queasy.

    Look, lotsa guys never update their Growlr profile pic.

    Ramesh slowly reached into the purse and extracted the Paw by the stump and held the hand upright, palm towards Godwin. He knew it was best to be very specific with tulpas, but he also didn’t want to risk giving the wrong instruction. And Godwin had said “one last time,” so presumably the paw knew what to do.

    Monkey Paw, Monkey Paw,
    Make Godwin happy.
    Monkey Paw, Monkey Paw,
    Just like before.

    Sad monkey hoots. The Paw slowly formed its tiny hand into a claw and started flexing its fingers. Ramesh noticed a twitching lump underneath Godwin’s shirt in the vicinity of the shoulder blades. He waved the Paw around with a vigorous circular motion and as he did so the shirt lump tracked the movements of the Paw. Godwin began making a series of happy grunts. Ramesh started moving the Paw down then up, from as high as his arm would reach down to the point in space where the jockstrap waistband began to move. He didn’t want to risk taking the Paw below the equator. Dark spots appeared at several places on Godwin’s shirt, as the Paw popped pustules and expressed bullae.

    “Right there,” grunted Godwin in a voice an octave below basso profondo.

    Ramesh worked the paw extra special hard and wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve this. He finally finished everything that could reasonably be considered Godwin’s back, and paused.

    Godwin straightened up, as much as one could with his physique. “Thanks, Doc. I haven’t had one that good since Lützi Steegenwould was here. She took the MTA out to Brooklyn to buy a garden rake with her little intern stipend just to scratch my back. Godwin became lachrymose, which eventually caused the production of another loogie and another ringing of the vase.

    Ramesh had worked up a bit of a sweat. That was the difference between Western magic and Eastern magic – wizards just waved their wands and shit happened; shamans had to expend energy equal to the effect they achieved. The Paw waited for a few seconds after Ramesh stopped moving it, then started cleaning under its fingernails using its thumbnail, then vice versa. Finally the Paw balled its tiny fist then unballed it quickly three times in succession then shook its fingers out. Funny that something dead and rotting, and animated by the darkest necromancy, should be so fastidious. Ramesh dropped the Paw back into the purse.

    “I guess I’ll head over to Mario’s now,” said Ramesh.

    “Yeah, I know you all have to get ready. I’ll miss you guys,” snuffled Godwin.

    “Hey, you’re going to make a fine commenter,” said Ramesh, extending his hand.

    “That means a lot, you being a William and Mary graduate.” At that, Godwin pulled Ramesh in for a big hug, and Ramesh found himself smothered in Troll moobage.

    “Thanks,” said Ramesh once Godwin relaxed his embrace.

    Ramesh turned and walked down the corridor, trying to be nonchalant as if he did this every day. He wondered if Godwin was checking out his butt. But even more disturbing was how Godwin knew he was a William and Mary alum. Unless Doctor Bombay was also an alum, but that would be suspiciously coincidental.

    He came to to a Tee in the corridor. He stopped, looked and listened. Identical corridor in each direction. From the right he heard a muffled chorus of screeching, from the left he heard peppy Latin music.

    The choice was obvious.

  • Reviews You’ll Never Use: Texas Frightmare Weekend 2019 Edition

    Hello Glibs, it’s been awhile, but your old Master of Scaremonies the Cryptkeeper is here to provide my annual superfuntimestory of the bestest holiday on my calendar outside of Halloween – Texas Frightmare Weekend! This article is *at least* five times as long as it needs to be, because I know you’re reading this at work and I’m trying to give you an excuse to not get back to that for an extra 10 minutes. You’re welcome. Do keep reading, though – there’s lots of cursing, lame jokes, celebrity stories, and a 40k reference for my fellow hyper-nerds. Plus I had fun last year with our game of, “There are so many links, I wonder which one of them randomly goes to a weird porn site?” that I decided to play again this year. Happy hunting!

    To begin with, this shit has gotten completely out of hand. They sold out of Saturday single day tickets (est. attendance this year of 35,000), and the fucking hotel rooms sold out at the main venue within two hours of going on sale. We were able to snag a room at the last second because they caught some dude reserving 20 rooms and trying to re-lease them out at a markup. Thankfully the dumbass advertised them on the Facebook meetup page for the event, so the organizer cancelled his block reservation & they opened the rooms back up. My wife received an automatic update and we jumped on one. True story: we got the last one, and it wound up being a handicapped room. It was YUUUGE. Like twice the size of a regular room. What’s a fucking cripple need with all that space? Don’t they need less space? It’s not like they’re prancing about or have friends that they can invite up or anything else requiring room. Even the shower was much larger. Don’t just take my word for it, here’s a photo. It’s so big you don’t even get the edge of the bed in frame.

    Seriously, I could do cartwheels in it if I wasn't old and fat and straight.
    Crip room

    Now most, if not all of you, are probably mentally saying to me, “Gojira, we know that Texas Frightmare Weekend is always held on the first weekend of May. So why come this year, Dallas Fan Expo, the larger (50k+ attendance) pop culture, sci-fi, and comic book convention that used to be called Dallas Comic Con, moved its date to directly compete? Aren’t they targeting the same people?” Well astute reader, indeed that was the plan – of the FanExpo organizer. Here’s a little inside baseball for you, as was related to me by a buddy of mine involved in the whole sordid affair: FanExpo wanted to be the only game in town & approached the Texas Frightmare organizer, Loyd Cryer, about buying him out. He told them to fuck off and die in a fire (paraphrasing mine -ed). In what is possibly an act of pure spite, which is just my conjecture and in no way libelous, FanExpo moved their event to the same weekend. I think their big-shot corporate overlords thought that the nerdy public is one undifferentiated mass, and that being the larger event with more headline guests, they would draw interest and put a little bit of a beat-down on ol’ Texas Frightmare.

    Turns out the Venn Diagram of people who are comic book and pop culture nerds, and people who are hardcore horror fans, does have overlap, but not nearly to the degree that the FanExpo jerks had hoped. I do fear, though, that this blatant act of separatism has resulted in some unfortunate battlelines being drawn and our two populations being given reason to resent and distrust one another. Thanks alot, FanExpo! If I ever see Jonathan Frakes on the street, I’ll fuckin’ kill him and leave a human turd on his forehead and a little note written on a cocktail napkin that says, “Defend Horror” written in his blood and pinned to his body with a little plastic sword along with some photos of those abused dogs from the SPCA commercials.

    Interestingly, the above paragraph wasn’t just one long setup to a largely unfunny joke about murdering Will Riker. There really is a distinct difference between the two groups, and if you swing both ways, as I do [insert “Oh My!” George Takei gif], you notice it when surrounded entirely by one group or the other. By and large the horror crowd, where I spend more time, is more…enthusiastic…about ordering their lifestyle around their interests. They don’t just dye their hair, they have a shit-load of tats and piercings, dress somewhat raggedly, curse a lot more, drink a lot more, and are generally more “blue collar” types. They also skew distinctly more conservative. There are a lot more pro-2A shirts, and shirts making fun of liberals, at horror events, than shirts or patches with leftist slogans. Hell, I saw a couple of Confederate flag patches on vests this weekend, and nobody gave them a second glance. For all you aspies rushing to the comments to correct me that it’s actually the battle flag of Northern Virginia or whatever the hell, save yourselves the spittle-flecked outrage. When I say, “Confederate flag”, you damn well know what I’m talking about, so just simmer down and roll with it. If you promise not to be a ludicrous pendant, I’ll not purposefully replace the word “magazine” with “clip” in any future firearms articles I may write.

    The thing is, I’m not sure why this is. This is a group of people who are obviously comfortable with, shall we say, non-traditional mores in terms of public behavior, modes of dress, etc., and yet they actually skew conservative. The sci-fi/comic crowd is overwhelmingly leftist, but they also are overwhelmingly just fat guys able to take off their blue TOS shirts at the end of the day and blend back into “regular” society. I can’t help but wonder why this is. I’m sure Ken Shultz has a theory that he’d like to expound on (just ribbing you in good nature, Ken). Joe Bob Briggs mentioned it during his panel, as well, so it’s not just me making shit up…this time.

    So not as many photos this year, for which I apologize. If you haven’t read my past entries on this event, be warned: this is literally the only time of the year I take photos, so I cannot be assed to get good at it because I just don’t care. Anyway, even five years ago, when you purchased an autograph from a guest, it came with a selfie. Now every one of these greedy fucks charges an extra $10, except for a few who are cool.

    Plus he looks fabulous for his age. Wood.
    Bruce Abbot is cool. He does not charge extra.

    I will note that they didn’t have glowsticks available at the after party again this year. I think our little art project that I showed you all photos of in the 2017 entry put the kibosh on that for everybody. At least I hope that’s why there weren’t any. I’d love to believe that my one merry band of assholes managed to ruin something for tens of thousands of people. It’d put me right up there with John Dillinger.

    Great guests though, and great panels. We had Jeffrey Combs, who given his wonderful Star Trek roles would have been just as at home at FanExpo, but he’s also done great work in horror. I’m a huge Jeffrey Combs fanboy, so this was a special treat for me. We had Meat Loaf, who fell off the fucking stage at his panel and broke his collarbone. Looks great for his age, though, really. Jenna Jameson, on the other hand, does not. Her ass looked like a fucking tray table. I wanted to set my drink on it, then smack her hard in the face and see if the drink fell off. It doesn’t show up in google image search, oddly enough. Trust me, I wanted to add a picture. Traci Lords has aged a bit better, and Cassandra Peterson (better known as Elvira) I’d still drill like an out of control oil rig. The big guns were Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell, along with Sam’s brother Ted Raimi. Robert Englund, Lance Henrickson, Tom Savini, and various other regular guests were in the house, as well as…Lee Majors! Scott Ian and Charlie Benante of Anthrax were also present, and the corpse of Tim Curry. Along with many other assorted peoples who had roles in some sequels or other.

    Seriously though, I just felt bad for Tim Curry. To get “his” autograph, you had to give his handlers the merch, then they’d mail it back to you later, signed. Yeah, sure pal, I totally believe that’s a legit signature that you can’t do in front of me because reasons. They wheeled him around for his photo ops, and he was just sitting there all stroked out. I’m poking fun, but really, I feel for the guy. If you saw him, you’d swear they were only keeping him alive in a high-tech chair out of fear that when he dies the psychic beacon that emanates from him that provides the only known fixed point by which to navigate the warp will blink out and the galaxy will be rent asunder by Chaos. He looked that bad. Plus I saw them sacrifice a few thousand psykers to get him through the second day. They did it in Convention Hall B.

    The year started off with a screening of Re-Animator on Thursday night, with Jeffrey Combs, Bruce Abbot, and Barbara Crampton (who, like Elvira, is still super do-able despite being old) in attendance to do a panel. They also had Kathleen Kinmont from Bride of Re-Animator, but really who cares about her. She does reappear later in our narrative in a humorous role, so that’s something I suppose. In addition to their panel at the screening, they had a panel during the main convention.

    Nothing really funny to say about this
    The Re-Animator panel

    The panel was great in that, rather than just tell stories, almost the whole thing focused on the craft of filmmaking, particularly low-budget film making in the 80s. Without going into great detail, they spoke about the long days on low-budget shoots (14-18 hrs per day, as principal photography had to be completed in 18 days), and about how big name actors can get away with being aloof, but working in the nooks and crannies, the only way to get a good performance is for the actors to be completely emotionally available to each other in order to create instant chemistry. They mentioned that, as they all were coming from theater backgrounds, they got together at Barbara’s apartment for a few weeks beforehand to rehearse, which is a big no-no if SAG finds out about it because it constitutes working without pay. Jeffrey mentioned that sometimes having fewer resources forces the director and editor to make tighter, better choices, because when given infinite time and money, some people go overboard and don’t know when enough is enough. He also mentioned that, back when you had to actually film on, you know, film, low-budget productions would purchase things called “ends”. These were the chopped off leftovers of film reels after standard budget films were done using the reels. They’d cut off what was left and sell it cheap. So it was a great way to accumulate film on a tight budget, but you’d only be able to do like 3 minutes on each one and it was annoying to have to work through. As for the audience questions, it’s bizarrely awkward to ask a question to a woman whose tits & bush you just saw, along with her about to get eaten out by a revenant holding its own severed head between her legs (if you haven’t seen Re-Animator, stop what you’re doing and watch it now. It’s better than any Marvel film by x1000).

    The Lee Majors Q&A was a bit depressing. Due to the way television contracts were structured back then, he never saw a dime from any Steve Austin merchandise, and indeed claims to have had no idea so much of it was ever produced until he started doing conventions. He spoke about the old snobbery that shut out television stars from film productions, and told a funny anecdote about how he loved Bill Shatner when he worked with him, but that Shat had a tendency to, “die to the balcony”. He explained that it’s theater slang for wildly over-acting. He also talked about how Andre the Giant, when playing sasquatch on the show, pissed in the suit all the time, which was super gross, but was also the nicest guy in person you could ever hope to meet, which was super great.

    Joe Bob Briggs did a good panel, and spoke about the state of trash cinema and its relative place in modern film production vs. where it was when he got started way back when. He and I chatted a bit about small towns in west Texas. He didn’t think I’d know a few of the places where he’d lived, but I went to college in Lubbock, and so we shared some fond memories of a shitty place that is populated entirely by people who fail out of that college. Another really nice guy. Honestly, the only person who has ever been a dick to us after all these years that we’ve been going was Billy Zane. I still think that, much like Georgia against Texas this past year, Alabama against Oklahoma in that Sugar Bowl a few years back, or Florida against Louisville a few years before that, he just didn’t want to be there and therefore that magically excuses shitty performances.

    We bought a few stupid things, like a full-size xenomorph skull

    Ima use it for weird sex stuff
    So I own this now, I guess.

    because I’m buddies with that vendor and he gave it to me for wholesale. There were some good costumes, but frankly the best ones were people who come every year, and I already took pictures of them and showed you all over the last couple of years. So below are some pics from this year, but not nearly as many. Karaoke on Sat. night was awful, like always, though everybody was in a good mood. Kathleen Kinmont showed up to rock out, but was wasted and happened to share an elevator with us back up to our floor. She was drunk enough that she didn’t stop singing or rocking out once off the stage – it went for the whole elevator ride. There were no infamous David Arquette episodes, however (fun fact: right before he got on stage that night, he bought me a beer at the bar. I didn’t know until later that he was supposed to have been on the wagon. Whoops). I’m also now turning it into an annual tradition to bum a smoke off of Lance Henrikson. Nice guy, but seriously, American Spirits? C’mon, Lance, I wanna see some fancy Hollywood cigarettes.

    The year ended with the Sam & Ted Raimi with Bruce Campbell panel. It was really a treat. They’ve known each other since middle school, and told great stories about each other growing up. Sam busted Bruce’s chops constantly, and they told stories about all the things they did as they went around Detroit trying to scrounge up money to make Evil Dead. Sam Raimi has an annoyingly nasally voice, FYI. Anyway the highlight of the panel was, when half the room is raising their hand to ask a question, a particular person who was picked stood up and asked them their opinion on Mac and Me, a shitty 1988 E.T. knockoff. Now keep in mind, none of the panelists had a blessed thing to do with that abomination of a movie. Nothing. It was the non-sequitur from hell. They were so confused they didn’t even know what he was asking – Ted kept thinking he was asking about “mac and cheese”. The moderator even face-palmed and said under his breath but still audibly into the mike, “You get a chance to ask these guys a question and you ask about fucking Mac and Me?” and you could hear the exasperation in his voice. I mean it was bizarre. The questioner was booed down, and after the panel ended and I was waiting outside for my wife to use the restroom, Ted, Sam, and Bruce came out through that side hallway. They were still talking about that, making fun of the guy and wondering what the fuck he was talking about. Seriously, this is like getting to go back in time and pose a question to George Washington, and all you can come up with is asking him if he likes the new Prius body style.

    So that was this years (mis)adventure. I was quasi-drunk for most of it and blew $1,500 in three days, but fuck it, that’s why I fight for $15. I look forward to updating you all on the event’s 15th iteration next year, if you don’t see me in the news for bombing FanExpo beforehand.

    SERIOUSLY FUCK THIS DUDE
    TWO evil elevator movies from the same director? You’re fucking telling me that you made one evil elevator movie, looked yourself in the mirror and said, “You know what? Ima do it again. The world needs another killer elevator movie.”
    Bonus points for anyone who gets the reference on my shirt. If you need a closer look, it's also in the Bruce Abbott photo.
    Me in front of a legit 73′ Oldsmobile Delta 88, from the film Evil Dead.
    Plus a random slut apparently on her period
    Somebody dressed as the bad guy from Army of Darkness
    herp derp alt text
    Here’s one you don’t see every convention: a guy dressed like Dr. Loomis. Though he still had that fucking Walking Dead baseball bat, so fuck him.
    Seriously, I don't have to be "on" all the time. Provide your own fucking alt-text.
    The “battle Delta”, the Delta 88 transformed for combat at the end of Army of Darkness
    Which I suppose would be one redeeming quality : P
    This person has cleverly turned a book into a monster. My wife tells me it has something to do with Harry Potter, and is therefore un-Christian.
    Speaking of which, I'd still fuck Blondie.
    I just thought it was funny that this guy was dressed like a fascist, his name for the karaoke was like “Lord Commander” or some shit like that, and he sang fucking Blondie.
    Some leftist media site will be blaming this comic for at least 18 suicides by next week
    I love the difference between horror cons and other cons. Here, for example, instead of ripped dudes in tight clothes saving the world, we have family-friendly comics with titles like, “Lets All Die!”
    Randos in costume
    "You gotta creep, creep..."
    Some dude dressed as the Creeper
    I hope he went all method and made his pubes mossy as well
    This was a clever one. He’s dressed like Stephen King’s poor character from the movie Creepshow.
    Though I do wonder how well he sees.
    Clever Nightmare on Elm Street costume. More clever than the 1,000 Freddy’s walking around the convention, at any rate.
    Really if you love 70s Italian slashers, this is a great costume
    Remember when I did a series of film reviews that focused on the giallo genre? This guy gets it.
    Also, wood.
    The Death Note guy was here the last few years, but the chick’s demon costume was super intricate and she ended up winning the contest on Friday night I believe. The most important thing is she was hot.
    I mean they're marketing it directly to us now. Not even pretending anymore.
    OK now this is what is wrong with the world. This is the side of the box of a Castle Greyskull re-issue toy. Notice that, unlike, say, the original Castle Greyskull box, the person shown enjoying it is not a 5 year old boy, but rather a 35 year old “man” with a shit-eating grin on his face and I FUCKING WANT THAT CASTLE GREYSKULL.
    But not *too* cute, if you're reading this Chris Hansen
    A little kid dressed as Nosferatu. I thought it was cute.
    Also, kill yourself
    A shirt for little kids. If you don’t know what the Pork-Chop Express is, stop reading my fucking column.
    Hopefully it'll scare him out of being the little panty-waste that he is
    Another great example of horror culture – a children’s book titled, “I Like To Eat Children”. And yes, I bought it for one of my nephews.
    Eh, I dunno if I wood or wood knot - looks like she's keeping a lot held back with that corset
    Another pretty well done costume
    It may be a couple hundred bucks clever - that sign better be denominated in fucking pesos.
    I thought this was clever – the guy made a medusa skull.
    HOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN A WEEK AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT
    Remember when I mentioned in one of my film reviews about Anthropophagus, the giallo film about the crazy cannibal who at the end of the movie eats his own intestines? SOMEBODY MADE A FUCKING DOLL FOR THAT MOVIE HOLY SHIT
    W...T...F
    Weird nazi porn. “Deported Women of the SS Special Section” and “Gestapo’s Last Orgy”.
    ...or is it?
    Shit, it’s better than concentration camp porn
    Really cracker jack job on the costume, though
    This guy was the rarest thing of all at a convention – an original character. Sadly because it’s an original character I completely forgot it’s name and the youtube channel the people were trying to tell me to subscribe to where they upload their short films.
    Pretty good idea actually, all in all
    Ash Predator. He’s the Predator, but with a ripped blue shirt, chainsaw hand, shotgun slung on his back, and a deadite-colored severed head of another predator.
    Jokes on him, I still got it!
    Scott Ian of Anthrax making sure I know I’m not supposed to be taking a picture of him.
    He could tattoo Cthulu onto my dick since everybody who sees it goes insane
    Two tattoo artists this year. The wife and I are seriously thinking of signing up for a flash next year, which is really all they do given the time constraints.
    Also, wood
    Randumb decoration on a table. Only at Texas Frightmare.
    If any of you actually pay money to see it though, you're a dumbass. It wasn't money-spending good.
    Look in the background – it’s advertising a movie called Velocipastor that we saw for free that Friday night about a priest who turns into a were-dinosaur and saves Chinese prostitutes. It…was…awesome.

     

  • What is Burning Man? Pt. 2

    In the last part of this series, I mentioned that the Burning Man attendees are the event. There are many ways in which this fact manifests, but the most prominent ways are theme camps and artwork. But what exactly is a “theme camp”?

    In short, a theme camp is a group of burners who bring an offering to the playa. They are interactive, open to the public, and of course they’re free. There is no specified set of rules on what a theme camp can be offering, but the nature of the camp will generally determine placement based on the whims of the BMOrg.

    As with everything else related to Burning Man, the concept of theme camps has evolved over the years. Back in the day before anyone I knew personally went to the event, you just showed up with your camp and set up whatever you wanted, however you wanted. This was also back in the days when you could drive around in a Jeep shooting guns into the air, dig holes in the ground to fill with gasoline and set ablaze, and engage in all sorts of otherwise fun anarchy.

    This changed as the event grew, particularly after the 1997 burn which was apparently “terrifying”. Growing demands from the government resulted in most of the changes, though a few things like a ban on handheld lasers came from the BMOrg without being forced upon them. As far as theme camps go, it used to be a completely different and mostly random structure every year with no clue what you would get. Once certain groups started showing up regularly and bringing more or less the same camp every time, placement disputes started cropping up with multiple groups wanting the same location. Sometimes a camp would show up to find one person had staked out the entire area for themselves.

    They addressed with issue with camp placement. For as long as I’ve been a burner, the prime real estate has been reserved for camps which apply to the BMOrg for space. If you want a premium location in the city, which is redefined to cover broader swaths every year, you have to draw up a design for your camp and submit the plans to the BMOrg along with a description of what you’ll be offering. The more closely you adhere to the 10 principles the more likely you are to be approved, but the BMOrg is capricious.

    The city is laid out shaped like the letter “C”, with concentric streets that are always named alphabetically from a word starting with “A” to “Whatever Letter We Need This Year” based on the theme and expected population, although the innermost and most prominent street with the “best” camps is always named “Esplanade”. My first year it was “A” through “H”, though by the end of the event they’d added two more (“I” and “J”) at the back to accommodate more people. There’s radial streets which stretch from the center at Esplanade to whatever the last street is that year spaced “30 minutes” apart. So you get addresses like “4:30 & A”, “8:00 & F”.

    The theme camps are all placed within this grid according to where the BMOrg thinks you belong. The massive sound camps which play dubstep and other electronic music non-stop for the entire week (and I mean it) generally get placed at the ends of the C, 10:00 and 2:00, facing outwards so they aren’t bombarding “residential” areas and causing more sleep deprivation. Smaller musical camps or ones which play different music may end up closer to the interior.

    During the few hours these guys were closed, the camp right next door was just getting started

    That said, their standards often change with the wind. One year I was with a camp that had been there for over 10 burns and was on “A” every year. The following year they ended up getting pushed back to “C”. The next year they placed on “H”. This year they apparently didn’t even get approved for placement at all and the camp may not happen since nobody involved managed to secure a ticket, which is getting increasingly difficult each year are ever greater percentages of tickets are reserved for approved/placed theme camps rather than being open to the general public.

    Not all camps are theme camps; not every camp is open and interactive. On one occasion my camp was just my wife and I, though we weren’t married yet during that burn. Definitely a small, non-interactive, closed camp. There’s also the hated “plug-n-play” camps, which are still non-interactive and closed, but are often quite large and provide everything a rich and famous burner could want on the playa, for a hefty fee, of course, sometimes exceeding $100,000. There’s controversy as to how to deal with these groups and some get explicitly barred from future burns, like a camp called Humano was.

    One example of a plug-n-play ‘fortress camp’, so people like Paris Hilton and Elizabeth Holmes don’t have to risk being seen out of costume

    As to the actual interactive theme camps themselves, they can generally be broken into two broad categories: daytime camps and nighttime camps. Similarly, most burners are either “daytime” burners or “nighttime” burners. During the day, the city has a slower pace and is dominated by smaller camps. There’s still some daytime party spots like Pink Mammoth and Distrikt that serve all the booze you can drink, but it’s not nearly as wild.

    They were giving out pancakes

    During the day, you’ll find a lot of camps offering things like yoga or aerials sessions, body painting and tattoos, bars, TED talks, bondage workshops, tasty food, hatmaking, film screenings, places to smoke hookah, theatre performances, woodworking pagodas, bouncy houses, and pretty much anything else you could expect to find in a major city (during the event, it’s Nevada’s third biggest city, complete with an airport). Except trash collection or recycling – that’s on you to take care of yourself.

    There’s also some ‘services’ offered by burners, like postal delivery, RV servicing, and bicycle repair shops. That last one is key, as bicycles are the primary mode of transit in Black Rock City due to the fact that the city measures over 2mi in diameter and, other than art cars, driving is not allowed (unless you’re a cop or emergency responder of some sort). More on that next time. The highly alkaline dust on the playa tends to eat away at tires and bicycle chains, making frequent repairs a necessity. Burning Man has claimed 5 different bicycles from me. One bike didn’t even make halfway through the event, leaving me on foot for the rest of the burn except when I could find an unused community bike to borrow.

    At night almost all of these services stop operating and most of the daytime camps close up, though some like the roller derby and mini golf stay open 24/7. Generally the city takes on a completely different aura. The people are completely different, too, as the nighttime burners tend to sleep during the day when it can get well over 120 degrees F. If you’re a nighttime burner, though, you need to pack for summer and winter temperatures, as it can be anywhere from 80 to 30 on a given night.

    When the sun goes down, the city lights up and things get more intense. The Thunderdome opens up for fighters to beat the crap out of each other with foam weaponry. Foot traffic to the orgy dome picks up and lines start to form outside it. The daytime bars shut down and the nighttime bars open their doors. Things you never realized were there during the day suddenly appear, such as one camp that projected Donald Trump’s face onto the ground for passersby to jump on, only to have him move out of the way every time and laugh. Interactive mazes spring out of the ground like Theseus’ labyrinth for you to navigate in complete darkness. One camp created a series of old-school arcade games where you were the “character” on a pressure-sensitive platform of LEDs. The lights, lasers, and fire generally associated with Burning Man are suddenly everywhere you look.

    No matter who you are, it will impress you. No pictures can adequately depict it and nobody can accurately describe it. Any two people could go and have completely different experiences; it’s entirely possible that you’ll come with someone whom you never cross paths with again until it’s time to leave, with both of you having never even entered the same camps.

    The interactivity of the theme camps is only half the splendor though. The people who are only there to party tend to limit their experience to a few select major sound camps, but in my personal opinion the most impressive part of Burning Man is the art, many of which end their lives by burning to the ground. We’ll take a look at some of the art and art cars, next time.

  • What is Burning Man? Pt. 1

    A decade ago, most people had never heard of Burning Man. Telling someone you were going or had been, would mostly get you blank stares. If you got any other reaction it was probably a very positive one as most people who did know about it found it enthralling and either had been themselves or really wanted to go but hadn’t had the chance for whatever reason.

    Fast forward to 2019, and nearly everyone has heard of the now infamous ‘biggest party in the world’ held 90 miles north of Reno, NV in the Black Rock Desert each year during the week before Labor Day. Nowadays, media reports and social media influencers are where most people get their knowledge of the event. Because of this, misconceptions abound as to what Burning Man actually is, and how its culture is spreading throughout society.

    In order to counter a lot of this lack of knowledge, misconceptions, and preconceived notions about Burning Man, I’m writing up a three-part series. This first part mostly talks about background information, basic infrastructure, how the event works, and its ethos/culture. Part two will be focused on theme camps and events. Part three will cover art works/emplacements and mutant vehicles.

    I’ve been to six burns, most recently in 2016, and have watched it go from a niche counterculture to having mainstream mass appeal. Several friends of mine have been more times than I, stretching many years further back in time, which was how I was introduced to this pseudo-alternate reality world which resembles an odd hybrid of communist central planning and techno-libertarian societies.

    It used to be that you only went to this event if you knew someone who had already been and could effectively serve as your mentor. As the Burning Man Organization is fond of saying: this is not a festival. If you are ill prepared, you very well may die. It’s happened. You used to have to sign a waiver back in the days before they had on-site ambulance service, medical tents, and a helicopter at the ready to take you to Reno. It’s an extremely harsh environment with many hazards, be they natural or man-made.

    That said, this was always part of the appeal, and many people bring their kids as young as three regardless of these risks. It always felt like a sort of frontier. There wasn’t even cell service until 2014 and no ubiquitous WiFi. Everyone wore a watch, an actual watch, just to tell them the time, and people kept their phones locked up. This is still the case for the early half of the burn, until the dreaded tourists show up around Thursday to stare at their phones and do glamor shoots for their Instagram accounts.

    The tourists and narcissists are a relatively new phenomenon though. There were always some ‘weekend warriors’, but ‘sparkle ponies’ were the bigger nuisance for many years. The event first started in 1986 and only sold out for the first time in 2011. You used to be able to get a ticket whenever you wanted, or even at the gate, for as low as $100. Now it’s a mad rush to get one, so it ends up on many people’s bucket list who attend with no prior interest in or knowledge of the event’s culture and history.

    The event is held on public land under Bureau of Land Management jurisdiction. They impose strict population limits, which have generally increased each year, and a slew of other restrictions regarding maintaining the natural environment, such as requiring the event’s perimeter be surrounded with a trash fence. It was the first “Leave No Trace” event, and they’ve done a rather good job of making sure you wouldn’t be able to tell it happened if you go beforehand or afterwards. However, ever increasing BLM fees and ever more demands from the 6 police departments with a presence there have driven the cost up to $425 minimum, unless you get a subsidized “low-income” ticket. On the high end, you can spend around $1,400 for one ticket plus another $100 for a vehicle pass.

    All this gets you is access to the city, and it is indeed a city. The Burning Man Organization provides “roads”, which are just packed down dust sprayed regularly with water to keep them under control, road signs, a single Center Camp, about a dozen banks of porta potties, and The Man, which is lit on fire with an amazing firework display on Saturday night. Everything else in the city is brought and built by the attendees, although they’ve started placing “Black Rock Ranger” stations and medical tents around as well.

    The attendees ARE the event. All the party locations are brought, built, and paid for by attendees, who often pay DJs big bucks to spin there, though the no-names are often better. There’s multiple competing post offices run entirely by burners. (Dis)information centers, “human car washes”, vehicle lockout services, playgrounds and trampoline parks, pretty much everything you’ll find was brought there by someone who thought it would be cool to have X, Y, or Z on ‘the playa’ and just did it out of their own pockets.

    The BMOrg (often called ‘the borg’) also provides a theme for each year. This year is “metamorphosis”. Previous examples include “fertility”, “metropolis”, “good and evil”, “Da Vinci’s workshop” and many others throughout the years. There’s also “10 principles” the BMOrg tries to enforce on the event but have gotten somewhat lazy about recently. Leave No Trace is one of those, and they keep to it under threat of ruinous fines. Another big one is Decommodification, which basically means nothing can be bought, sold, or traded.

    Burning Man runs on a ‘gifting economy’. The only concession they make on this is ice and coffee, which the BMOrg sells around the city. Other than that, everything is free. If you see a restaurant offering pancakes, they’ll be given to you at no charge. If you stop by a clothing store, feel free to grab a shirt and pants, which will likely have been ‘gifted’ to the store itself at some point. My wife and I often gift necklaces.

    In the past, anyone could set up a restaurant. Starting in 2013 though, the Nevada Health Department started requiring any restaurants gifting food to the general public to get permits and be inspected. This also applies to large private kitchens serving camps of 125 or more. Never accept gifts of food that aren’t factory sealed though unless you (a) are getting it from a restaurant, (b) know and trust the source, (c) don’t mind the chance of getting drugged, or (d) ask if the food contains drugs. People are usually honest on (d) if you ask, but a camp next door to mine one year took a bunch of Altoids from a stranger without thinking to ask and they turned out to be laced with LSD. Whoops. Welcome to Burning Man.

    A lot of this stuff and more is what veteran burners usually tell people right off the bat to weed people out. We also like to toss in factoids like “there’s no showers so be prepared to be sweaty and smelly for a week”, “there’s no dumpsters so you have to pack out all your own trash”, “you need to prepared to bring, store, and cook a week’s worth food”, “you’re likely to run out of gas”, “there’s dubstep playing LITERALLY ALL THE TIME”, “dust storms = whiteout conditions on a moments notice”, “police will arrest you for driving 1mph over the speed limit”, and a few other tropes that boil down to “burning man sucks, don’t go.” Yes, there’s a lot of sex, drugs, and nudity, but we don’t usually talk about or emphasize those parts. They’re just one small part of the greater whole.

    That’s all just part of the culture. It’s definitely a harsh climate that most Americans or really anyone ‘civilized’ could go crazy in, and veterans try to keep out too many clueless virgins (the term used for first-time burners) who just want to go to a big exclusive weeklong party. For those virgins who do go, there’s a lot of other rubs and insider false knowledge (paging Not Adahn) spread to mess with them and identify fakers. “Daft Punk is playing at the trash fence” is the biggest of these. Anyone who says they saw Daft Punk at the trash fence is BSing you.

    First-timers who don’t have any sort of mentor can generally make do by joining up with a larger camp. Many people in these camps have multiple burns under their belt and will make sure newbies have a pleasant experience. These camps usually cost money to join though, from a few hundred to a few thousand bucks, to pay for all the amenities they bring for their campmates and the general public. Considering most attendees are already looking at several thousand in expenses ($425 ticket +$100 vehicle pass + $200-$500 gas + $500-$1500 airfare/vehicle rental) just to get there and back home, many may not be willing or able to fork over more money to join a camp where they’ll probably also be required to work shifts and help with setup/breakdown before and after the burn. You’ll also need to take more time off work.

    If you’re flush with cash, you can usually buy your way out of every issue. This fact really pisses off most veteran burners, because “buying your burn” runs completely counter to the event’s culture in many ways. Radical self-reliance (one of the 10 principles) means “building your burn” and adapting to the harsh climate in your own way, such that you survive the event, thrive, and have a great time doing it. Having to rely on yourself (and/or a small contingent of friends) for the week while having a blast amidst a city that didn’t exist a month before your arrival is what sparks the life changing experiences many people, myself included report after attending.

    Next time, we’ll dive into the backbone of Black Rock City: theme camps and the events they offer.

  • Enslaving Yeast – Brewing an All Grain Beer

    That’s it.  We’re at the end.  Today we’ll go through the steps to make a beer starting with some malted barley, some hops, water, and yeast.  I just recently brewed up a batch of my Saison, which has been tweaked to my tastes, and is fairly popular with visitors:

    Saison:Three of the four ingredients

    Yield: 5 gallons

    Grain bill (assuming 80% efficiency)
    6 lb 2-row
    4 lb Pilsner (preferably Belgian)
    1 lb Crystal 8L
    1 lb Malted wheat

    Mash at 148 F for 90 minutes

    90 minute boil with the following hop additions:

    1.5 oz Saaz (2.8% AA) at 90 minutes
    .5 oz Saaz (2.8% AA) at 20 minutes

    This should end up with an OG of ~1.050, and a FG of ~1.008 for about 5.5% ABV

    Pitch with a saison yeast (I usually use 565, but used a new one for this batch).

    Mash TunSo what’s different with All Grain versus Extract?  For All Grain beer, you’ll be starting with malted barley, and need to convert the starches in it to sugars.  This is done in the mash. You’ll need a 10 gallon (or larger) insulated (or heated) container with some manner of filtering out the grain from the wort.  This can be done with a stainless steel false bottom, which is something like a colander with smaller holes that sits on the bottom of the mash tun over the spout where you’ll be draining the wort.  Or, you can use a bag that you attach to the side of the mash tun. The bags are cheaper, easier to clean, and prevent stuck sparges. The only problem is you’ll have to lift a heavy (water + grain) bag out of the mash tun in order to clean it.

    There are two main enzymes that will break the starches into sugars, Beta Amylase and Alpha Amylase.  Now, these two enzymes have different temperature ranges that they’re most active in, for Beta Amylase, that range is 131-149°F; for Alpha Amylase, that range is 145-158°F. Anything above those temperatures will denature (break) the enzymes, and they’ll stop working.  The lower the mash temperature, and the longer, the more fermentable sugars you will get from the grain. The higher the mash temperature, the more unfermentable sugars you’ll get. Too high of a temperature (or too short a mash time), and you’ll have unconverted starch in the beer instead of sugar.

    MaltUsing a calculator, we figure out what temperature we need to heat the water up to so that when it is mixed with Mashingthe malt, it’ll be at our expected mash temperature.  This is known as the strike temperature. In this instance, my strike temperature came out to be 160 F. We then take the malt and add the hot water to it.

    During this part of the process, you’ll want a mash paddle, which is used to stir up the mash and break up any dough balls that form.  You can use a big whisk (or spoon) if you want, but stay away from the $5 cheap plastic mash paddles, they do not work all that well for batches over 1 gallon..

    Then we put the top on the mash tun and wait, stirring it every once in a while if you so desire (which will up your efficiency a bit).  So since this is a 90 minute mash, we’ll take this time to discuss efficiency. There’s two main measures of efficiency that matter to the home brewer: Brewhouse efficiency – how much of the sugars did you get to out of the malt and into the fermenter at the end of the day (80% is a good standard to reach for); Conversion efficiency – How many of the sugars did you get out of the malt.  These numbers will be different, because there’s going to be some loss in water absorbed by the grain, left in the mash tun, and left in the boil kettle at the end.

    First RunningsThird RunningsSo while the mash is going, we’ll also heat up water for sparging (rinsing more sugars off the malt).  We want this water to be hot (I usually aim for 185 F and boiling), because we want to stop the conversion process, and because we need to get all of this wort up to a boil anyway.  I do a 2 step batch sparge. So after draining the mash tun, I’ll dump hot water over the grain and drain it twice.  You can do a single batch sparge, or even a continuous sparge (where you have a pump recirculating the mash over the grain).

    All of these runnings will go into the boil kettle and brought up to a boil.  At this point, you follow the same steps as you would for an extract batch. Now you just have to clean up your mash tun, and decide what to do with the spent grain.  The grain still will have some sweetness to it, and can be used to feed livestock, dried and ground into flour, or used in its current state to make spent grain bread.

    And for sitting through all of these columns, here’s a bonus recipe:

    English Mild

    Yield: 5 Gallons
    OG: 1.034
    FG: 1.008
    ABV: ~3.3%

    60 Minute boil

    Grain bill:

    4 lb Maris Otter
    1 lb Crystal 90 L
    1 lb Crystal 30 L
    1 lb Carapils

    Mash at 150 for 90 minutes.

    Hops:

    1 oz East Kent Golding (7.2% AA) at 60 minutes

    Ferment with a Dry English Yeast (I use WLP007 for this one)