I want to slap people in the face with this article every time I see this debate creep up again. In my mind it would make a very satisfying slapping sound.
Ernest Hemingway’s burger recipe.
The storm passed leaving the city a shattered, glassy ruin. The icy husks of splintered trees looked yawning upwards at the retreating sun, a shimmering desolation stretching out towards the long horizon.
The vista from my tenth floor apartment is pretty spectacular this morning. What began as a flurry so delicate a wayward breath might blow it away turned first into a squall and then into a full-fledged blizzard, sweeping in from the northwest. We look out over a beautiful park and the distant skyscrapers which normally twinkle so prettily on the cold, clear nights are lost in an impenetrable wall of swirling white. The dead brown treetops, elms and maples mostly, have lost there definition and are now the rolling dark waves of a churning sea, extending outward like so many layers of paint on a canvas. The building acts as a jetty, catching the snow in thick white plumes which dance across the sheer face of our window-panes. It is days like this that make me regret every breath used to curse the cold, short days of winter; for surely I would not be whole without it.
I always give books. And I always ask for books. I think you should reward people sexually for getting you books. Don’t send a thank-you note, repay them with sexual activity. If the book is rare or by your favorite author or one you didn’t know about, reward them with the most perverted sex act you can think of. Otherwise, you can just make out.
In October 1794, Alexander Hamilton took time out from his regular duties as secretary of the Treasury to lead 13,000 militiamen into western Pennsylvania. Resistance to a tax on whiskey production, intended to help pay down the government’s $45 million Revolutionary War debt, had been growing since it went into effect in 1791. Tax collectors had been attacked, and at least one was whipped, tarred, and feathered. By early 1794, some 7,000 men had joined the rebellion, and talk swirled about declaring independence from the United States. But in the face of federal bayonets, the revolt collapsed; many of its leaders were arrested, and the rest fled into neighboring states.
The Whiskey Rebellion was a critical moment in the life of the new republic. President Washington’s use of the military to force payment of the tax demonstrated that the fledgling federal government had real power—and was willing to use it.
But to Hamilton, who conceived it, the tax was about more than raising cash or asserting the central government’s authority. It was also a way to reduce alcohol production and consumption. Hamilton wrote in Federalist 12 that a tax on whiskey “should tend to diminish the consumption of it,” and that “such an effect would be equally favorable to the agriculture, to the economy, to the morals, and to the health of the society. There is, perhaps, nothing so much a subject of national extravagance as these spirits.” Washington agreed: Drinking, he said, was “the ruin of half the workmen in this Country”—even though, as the owner of one of America’s largest distilleries, he contributed his share to that ruin.
Read more. [Image: Library of Congress]