“Don’t let anyone make you eat shit.”
-    George Stranahan, quoted on the Flying Dog Ale website

———-

March 3, 2003

Most of us, if we know a word or two in a language foreign to us, know the word for shit. Merde, scheiss, …Should we end up in one of these foreign countries we could at least begin or end a complete sentence.

Greek: Koprinus, of dung
Kopros, dung
French: Copremia, dung, feces

Coprophagy: also Coprophagia  The feeding on or eating of dung or excrement that is normal behavior among many insects, birds, and other animals but in man is a symptom of some forms of insanity.

Coprophilia: marked interest in excrement; use of feces or filth for sexual excitement. Adjective: coprophilic.

Coprolalia: obsessive or uncontrollable use of obscene language. The use of obscene language as sexual gratification.

Coprology: Scatology

Coprophagist: one that practices coprophagy.

Coprophilious: growing or living on dung. Fond of pornography.

———-

(As of March 12, 2008, Wikipedia)

Flying Dog Brewery
Location: Denver, Colorado; Owner: George Stranahan (independent); Year opened: 1990; Annual Production: 50,000 barrels

Active Beers: Flying Dog Classic Pale Ale (American Pale Ale); Gonzo Imperial Porter (Imperial Porter); Horn Dog Barley Wine Style Ale (English Barley Wine); In-Heat Wheat (Hefeweizen); Old Scratch Lager Amber Lager (Steam Beer); Road Dog Scottish Porter (Scottish ale); Snake Dog IPA(India Pale Ale); Tire Bite Golden Ale (Golden ale)*.

Seasonal Beers: Dogtoberfest (Märzen); Heller Hound Bock Beer (Helles Bock); K-9 Cruiser (American Strong Ale)**. Wild Dog Double Pale Ale (American

Double IPA); Wild Dog Weizenbock Ale (German-style Weizenbock); Wild Dog Colorado Saison (Belgian-style Saison)

Flying Dog Brewery is a beer brewery located in Denver, Colorado. When it opened in 1990, it was the first brewery in Aspen in over 100 years, and one of the first brewpubs in the Rocky Mountain region. In 1991, Flying Dog’s “Doggie Style” was bottled and won the “The Best Pale Ale in America” award at the Great American Beer Festival.

The reputation of Flying Dog beers grew quickly, and demand soon exceeded the brewpub’s capacity. So, in 1994 Flying Dog opened a 50-barrel main brewery in Denver, Colorado from which its ales are distributed to more than 45 states of the United States. Currently, the brewery has a capacity to brew 50,000 barrels of beer per year.

Flying Dog Brewery is noted for using the unusual art of Ralph Steadman, best known as the illustrator of the works of Hunter S. Thompson, on its labels.
In 2005, the brewery created a new beer in Thompson’s honor, Gonzo Imperial Porter. Initially in limited-release in 750mL bottles, the Gonzo Imperial Porter is now one of the regular offerings of the brewery.

Flying Dog has recently opened a second brewing location in Frederick, Maryland. According to their web site, this location is where “70% of Flying Dog Beer is already being brewed.” They are in the process of relocating their production team to Maryland. Accounting, sales, marketing and other administrative functions will remain largely unaffected by this change and their headquarters will remain in Denver.

———-

IF YOUR LIFE SEEMS TO BE GETTING QUEER,
AND YOUR NIGHTDREAMS ARE UGLY WITH FEAR
BUCKLE UP AND FLY RIGHT LIKE ORVILLE WRIGHT
WITH A COOL DOSE OF FLYING DOG BEER

— hst 7-30-95

———-

“There is an ancient Celtic axiom that says
“Good people drink good beer.” Which is true, then as now.
Just look around you in any public bar-room, and you will
quickly see: Bad people drink bad beer. Think about it.”

—-hst

Okay. Here’s a start.

Let me know.

H

———-

[Undated, from Hunter S. Thompson]

DEAR GEORGE,

I AM BESEIGED [sic] WITH
VERY AGGRESSIVE QUERIES FROM MANY LOCAL, NATIONAL AND INTERNATIONAL MEDIA VIS-À-VIS my Personal, Philosophical and/or Financial involvement with “our” soon-to-be infamous RED DOG ALE empire. There is a nasty world-wide rumor afoot that says I am a Beer Baron who seasons his magic Ale with human excrement & doesn’t mind admitting it.

THESE ACCUSATIONS HAVE CAUSED MY REPUTATION TO BE QUESTIONED IN SERIOUS WAYS, GEORGE, AND I FIND MYSELF MIRED IN WEIRD DISPUTES AND FILTHY ALLEGATIONS THAT COULD WELL END UP IN THE U.S. SUPREME COURT AND DESTROY MY IMAGE FOREVER…And Jesus! I have not even told Ralph about this nasty development yet. He will be Devastated to know that the last years of his life might be taken up with

———-

The Rocky Mountain News: Denver
October 17, 1995
Charlie Brennan: Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer

Gonzo journalist doggedly backs pal: Hunter S. Thompson snarls at ruling against controversial beer label

Hunter S. Thompson isn’t the one who put the controversial words on the label of Road Dog Ale, but he’s willing to fight to keep them there.

“I think the next thing to do is to go national and have a First Amendment test case on this,” Thompson said.

State liquor enforcement authorities on Monday told Broadway Brewing of Denver it has rejected the brewery’s proposed label for Road Dog Ale.

Future manufacture and distribution under the contested label could result in the beer being seized and impounded.

The label’s art was supplied by British illustrator Ralph Steadman, who collaborated on many projects with Thompson that gave rise to the term “gonzo journalism.”

Steadman included in the label’s art the legend “Good beer, no s—.” Thompson’s contribution to the label was milder, but he’s steamed over what he sees as inappropriate censorship of his friend.

“Nobody under the age of 85 would presume that there’s dung in the beer,” Thompson said of the Steadman slogan.

Before realizing Thompson’s goal of “going national,” Road Dog will have to get out of the doghouse in Colorado.

About 1,200 cases were manufactured and distributed in Colorado before the state’s liquor enforcement division discovered the profanity on the label this month.

The state allowed Broadway Brewing to sell the balance of that initial production run with an agreement that further production would await approval of its label.

Should Broadway Brewing appeal the state’s rejection of the label, it would be heard by the director or deputy director of the state Department of Revenue.
Broadway Brewing co-owner George Stranahan said he needs more information on the state’s authority in the matter before deciding his next move.

“I’m like my kid,” he said. “If I’m bad, what are you going to do to me?”

On a copy of the article, Hunter scribbled:

“Ralph, You filthy bastard. Look what you’ve done now – and where is my whiskey? H

———-

18 Oct 95

Hunter –
Idea! Pour the fucking beer away and offer the bottles with the labels as a collectors Art Object. Why not. George would make more money that way. Regarding the word shit – I have several influential friends searching for its authenticity + the 1980 O. Eng. Dic – says it was coined in 1505 to describe a delicacy – it can of course be used as a verb or a noun.
As for the whiskey I am a man of my word and your whiskey will be with you – even as I write it is on its way. OK. Good Story! Ralph

———-

January 3, 2000

We’ve always worn our name, Flying Dog, like an armband or a one-fingered salute. Intoxicated we are with the image of airborne Canidae, dogs perched on tree branches or rooftops, dogs that do whatever they freaking want to do. We’re fond of the fact that we found our lives on “spirits” as in alcohol, as in our robust line of ales. The very word “ale” has its roots in words related to sorcery, magic, possession, and intoxication.

Ralph Steadman artwork perfectly reflects our attitude and our products: the crazed flying dog on our Doggie Style amber ale (Gold and silver medals), the “in-your-face” Road Dog on the Scottish ale,  the cockroaches⎯Ralph says he loves those two words⎯on our Old Scratch steam lager, the aroused Snake Dog on our IPA, the savage Tire Biter on the golden Kolsch, the cool K-9 Cruiser on the winter seasonal (ask Eric), and please look for the soon-to-come Horndog. The Horndog artwork is available now on our merchandise and we love it.

———-

May 2, 2000

In the Northwestern Frontier region of Pakistan, just South of the Karakorum, Flying Dogs have been used for centuries to hunt the much desired Lingam bird, sought after for the aphrodisiacal powers of its gizzard, which must be wrapped in the tongue of an immature goat and roasted over the bones of a male Siberian Ibex for its effect.

All attempts to introduce the Flying Dog into other countries have failed. Those who prize the very finest in merkins, and the fur the Flying Dog makes the finest, thus find themselves wandering the bazaars of Skardu and bidding ferociously against the other merkin seekers  for the few Flying Dog skins that make their way to market each year, usually during the holy season of Alkinal.

The earliest beers in history were brewed in Mesopotamia and were called Aieea Yhurl Reeroo which translates to “dog with nausea in the sky,” or, more simply, just Flying Dog. Archaeologists have come to consensus that the name relates to a mixed sex drinking ritual of the time. A dog was first made to drink quantities of the beer (to test for safety?), at the height of the drinking ritual the celebrants stripped starkers, and the dog was thrown from one to another  until - well, until it tossed its cookies.

The Dutch legend of Sinter Klaas, which traces back to the 4th century AD, was about a skinny little fellow who delivered seasonal beers from a dog drawn cart. The beer was delivered especially to those guys and gals that were trying to make a baby. The drinking of the beer together, it was believed, was the actual cause of pregnancy. In the lore there was a direct relation, the more that was drunken the more likely the pregnancy. The dogs which drew the beer cart were specially revered, because it was believed that they alone knew which couples were in need of the beer, and that the dogs sought out and stoped at the appropriate houses. Sinter Klaas merely schlepped the beer to the doorstep.

As legends will, this one has changed over the years. By the 10th century it was believed that the dogs flew through the air with the cart and landed on the roofs, and Sinter Klaas dropped the beer down the chimney. The Flying Dogs of this legend were still the apparent heat detectors and were much revered, indeed there became a special day of worship for them. Later, of course, the cart became a sleigh, Sinter Klaas became Santa Claus, the dogs became reindeer, the beer became - well, you know the rest. Even more confusing, babies came from storks that dropped them down the chimneys.

Today there are as many opportunities as there are days in the year to honor the Flying Dog as memorialized in the fine beers of that trade name. Modern science has shown that while drinking beer together is indeed highly correlated with pregnancy, it is not the actual cause.

———-

August 14, 2000

* Tire Biter is an irregular bundle of unpredictable contradictions. Her attendance at the bar is random in time and duration, her mood unpredictable, she doesn’t have a favorite drink and Freddie has to ask her each time “What’ll it be tonight?” which can be anything from champagne to schnapps. She speaks with what sounds like a German accent though she claims that she is Belgian. There was a period when she drank only Tequila and expressed her usual course self with what she imaged to be a Mexican accent.

Though there is little consistency to her own accounting, this much is the accepted convention at the bar: she works for Lufthansa, now as a baggage handler and having been dismissed as a stewardess for her outrageous outbursts upon passengers, she is single and aged 27, that being the mean of her own reports which have varied between the extremes of 16 years and 45 years. Her behaviors towards the males at the bar varies between cuddly and blood curdling savagery. She makes the entirely believable claim of knowing how to say, “Fuck you” in seventeen languages. Road Dog, a man of considerable experience in the linguistics of coarseness has verified eight.

It was Snake Dog who had christened her fellow with the name Tire Biter. It was actually an act of kindness to do so. During her first appearances at the bar Tire Biter had used a different name for herself with each different drink ordered: Helga, Louisa, Martina, Alicia, Greta, always ending with an “a”. Roadie had begun referring to her, affectionately he claimed, with the “C” word. Snake Dog simply said, “None of that, we’ll call her Tire Biter,” and that was that.

Most of Tire Biters conversations were centered on her recounting of absolutely improbable adventures. It was when, in mid-adventure, some regular announced, “You’re as full of shit as the Christmas goose” that her name gained meaning, for she would savagely startle, snap and snarl at the intrusion, often in several languages. This event took long enough that she lost her train of thought and that story was finished and never begun again.

While Tire Biter’s stories formed and dispersed like a vapor, never to return again, there was on that had sufficient persistence to be suggestive of perhaps the only truths to flow from her mouth. She would begin, “When I was sixteen and in love with a handsome Belgian submariner I agreed to let him smuggle me on board for what was to be a six month undersea duty.” Of course the smuggler and his booty were soon discovered and she became, briefly, an openly accepted mascot of the craft; that is until her habits of the tongue became evident. At only week three of the six-month tour the submariner surfaced and set forth a lift raft with a single passenger and returned to the undersea. In consideration of perhaps God’s potential revenge the release was close to shore, which particular shore was the only variable to the story, being sometimes the Canary Islands, the cliffs of Dover, and once the Shetland Islands. This story was always allowed to play itself out, partly for the delight in new destinations for the life raft and partly because she was one of them, a comrade in that battle where the war stories are told in bars such as the Flying Dog.

———-

August 14, 2000

** Nobody at the Flying Dog didn’t know that K-9 Cruiser was only 19, had dropped out of high school at age 16, didn’t appear to work but had money. Nor did anybody not know that Cruiser would find ale elsewhere if he didn’t get it there or that the last time a cop had been inside was 1986, and then for a fire alarm incident.

K-9 or Cruiser as he was usually addressed would order up, usually his eponym, and Freddy’s only nod towards the law was to hand the glass to anybody else who would had it to K-9. Everybody figured it was better for K-9 to drink here, amongst friends who would care for him, than in some unknown place. He has a younger crowd of buddies and he parties with them on the weekends, elsewhere. His weekday and weekend social lives have no overlap what so ever. He come to the Flying Dog week night evenings, has his half dozen beers over a two or three hour period, is an accepted member of the regulars and goes home. They like him because he doesn’t put on airs, doesn’t insist on putting down adults or other classes and shows his genuine liking for the other regulars.

He is a boarder, of course, and his board, skate or snow depending on the season is parked by the front door. He had written his graduation yearbook piece in his 10th grade year, his last year in school; it went:

Appearance: baggy jeans, vans, XXL tee with long sleeves under, bleached blonde
Talk: dude, bro, hit the shit, sketch, wheeling
Walk: the slow, slouched strut
Chicks: tits and ass, blonde and compliant
Music: Bad Religion, Primus, Penny Wise, NOFX
Attitude: confident, witty, sociable

Simply being a regular in a tavern such as the Flying Dog speaks a lot about one’s “direction” in life and it is generally not a topic of discussion. K-9 is an exception, occasionally saying into his beer glass, but loud enough to be a question, “Gotta make somethin’ of my life, dude.” Doggie and Tire Biter respond with stuff like “Lighten up man;” Snake Dog, the eternal mother, and Old Scratch, the eternal teacher, bite harder, “Well what do you want to do?” and “What do you feel that you’re good at?” The answer always, “Boardin”. But hope springs eternal, Road Dog’s usual response is “Whatever you do man, stay out’ a the slam,” and questions are never asked about where does he get the money for his beers.

These discussions had turned up one story, one literal badge of honor. Just after the lifts had closed he saw a man hit the shit way too hard on a steep and deep run, he bounced high and into the trees, K-9 heard the snapping of branches and a thud. No good sounds, and he boarded down to investigate; what he found was not good.

———-

March 28, 2001

Dear Hunter and Ralph,

As you know the Colorado Liquor Enforcement board successfully prevented us from leaving the words “Good Beer No Shit” on our Road Dog ale label and for five years we used instead “Good Beer No Censorship.” The ACLU took the issue on as a first amendment question. At first they struggled through the Colorado legal system, eventually getting the Liquor Enforcement Board to admit that they wouldn’t rule on labels again, but not overturning their previous decision on our own label. The ACLU then presented the label to the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. The ACLU lawyer, Mark Silverstein, writes,

“I spoke with Susan Stuart on Friday March 16th. She confirmed that there was a problem with the label. In fact, after consulting her computer, she told me that the letter rejecting the label had already been drafted, though it had not been sent out.”

“I explained that I had served as the attorney in litigation over the label approval in Colorado, and that I expected that Flying Dog would want her to speak with me. We agreed that we would talk later in the day, after I had confirmed with you.”

We authorized Mark to be as aggressive as he felt appropriate; he told Ms. Stuart that a rejection would absolutely result in a loud and noisy first amendment. lawsuit.

“I was able to speak with Ms. Stuart again on Wednesday March 21st. At that time she told me that she had already reversed the disapproval of the label. She said that confirmation of the approval would be going to Gary Nateman.”

We feel this is a great victory against censorship in general and censorship of art in particular. And also an excellent opportunity to get notice for our ale, Steadman art, and HST whose words “Good people drink good beer” appear also on the label. In the cause of this promotion would each of you be willing to send me some decent quotes to put out in our press releases? We’ll try our damnedest to make this a national story …

———-

October 5, 2001

The Flying Dog Brewery has reached the size and age of a new kind of maturity. It’s no longer a vision/hobby of the founders; it has a life of its own to lead and we wish it success and pledge our support. The business is beyond being the plaything of either the founders or of management; and this means, to me, the building of a Board of Directors with the capacity and power of “The buck stops here.”

Right now we have three classes of Board members, two from management, two founders (who have been around so long without much financial reward that they smell like old fish and whine like tired dogs), and four “outside” members. I have every confidence in the skills and dedication of each and every one, and I believe in their commitment to know and understand this screwy, now mid-sized, business and guide it into a successful future. I like the diversity on the Board, I believe that to be a strength. Question #1 is “What does a successful future look like?” My first thoughts on this are:

•    Continued double digit growth rate. A doubling time of five years is 14.9% compounded.
•    A litter of ales that covers the beer drinkers’ spectrum, and each a little bit at the “extreme” edge of its category. We don’t do no milktoast!
•    Marketing that fully utilizes and enhances the Steadman message of irreverence, questioning authority, taking responsibility for one’s own life and so on.
•    We should strive to be a low cost producer; those are the survivors during shakeouts.
•    Whether or not we eventually look for a buyer, the business should be debt free and running a decent profit margin of at least 10%.
•    I believe in employee ownership and understand that it is a long term educational process as well as requiring the above profitability.
•    Whether or not we end up with employee ownership my idea of success includes a corporate culture of collaboration, shared vision, accountability, knowing each other as a community, and an informality that doesn’t sacrifice efficiency.

This is not inconsistent with the mission statement and is a little more specific and measurable in some of the goals. I imagine that the rest of the Board has ideas for additions and clarifications to such a list for a successful future and I hope that we commit Board effort to that list, design measures for accountability, and agree with management on a plan to which they will be accountable.

It is also timely, if we are to ask for real work from the board, to design a fair compensation for that work based on the company’s economic realities.

———-

September 6, 2003

Businesses are not started except by founders and founders have, therefore, the capacities to start businesses: vision, imagination, stubborn perseverance, risk-taking, single-mindedness, and, well, it can also pass as a demented fanaticism. The middle aged organization requires a different set of capacities: practicality, detail orientation, stability, which can also pass as stick-in-the-mud. The transition from the one form of leadership to the next can often, but not necessarily, be painful and difficult. The transition is best done when both the founders and the next-in-line understand the disease and acknowledge its presence and when the negotiations are open and honest; it can be done in collaboration instead of collision.

The transition proposed by Eric would put the founders in a minority position in ownership and Board membership, would bring in new investor/owners and presumably (although this is not explicit) also give some or all of senior management more ownership. Now the Founders have clearly demonstrated a long-range view and a delayed return on investment. They have also clearly indicated a desire to vest a great deal more ownership to senior management. I have no confidence that the new investors/owners have the long-range view and/or will vest as much ownership with management as the founders are willing to.

Thus I think it in the best interests of the company⎯all of us now at the table⎯to look at another approach that utilizes the capacities of the founders in a continually diminishing fashion, continues to empower and create ownership in management, and a restructuring of the Board to maximize the utilization of all of us.

———-

September 27, 2004

And so Flying Dog, on your tenth birthday, long may you live, long may you struggle, long may you offer to humans principles and a breath of a life more kind and gentle; dreams of a world not yet achieved.

Posted in chapters | No Comments