Oh, these days feel like one endless parade of good times: Iraq, Lehman Brothers, AIG, Afghanistan, Iran, Galveston, Britney, Lindsay, my flattened 401K, Tom Jones and his new CD, $65 entrees and dead bugs in my package of dried spaghetti that I JUST opened.
Is there any good news out there? Why does everything seem so dark?
I want to feel that great American optimism again, and remember what is so wonderful about the US of A. Even if it means digging through piles of last month’s emails. Nothing like nostalgia to revive the spirit!
Here it is: Michael Williams, editor of the excellent site A Continuous Lean and a dear friend, sent me this from Las Vegas last month (it’s a dry heat.)
Is there anything more American than drinking a cold Miller High Life in your cousin’s backyard, particularly if your cousin lives in Las Vegas? Is there anything more honest than Miller High Life? It’s been brilliantly labeled “The Champagne of Beers” since the early 20th century and there’s not an ounce of irony in the statement. The beer’s beautifully antiquated label and shape is in and of itself a relic, twelve fluid ounces of innocent Americana.
Don’t we all want to know the “High Life?” My definition, probably wrong, is private jets, pot brownies, and a private performance by Steve Winwood. I check out the Miller High Life website, needing to know what German emigrant Frederick Miller meant when he bottled his brew back in 1903. It set me and my materialist ways straight: the site said it’s “common sense in a bottle” and that there is but one principle to living the high life: living well by living smart. A true high lifer appreciates life’s little luxuries and enjoys them to the fullest. One of life’s little luxuries is the champagne of beers, a “good honest beer at a tasty price.”
Now that’s something I’m willing to toast to. Here are a few more visual odes to the High Life.