Coors: The Martin Luther ‘King of Beers.’

It seems a little odd calling one’s blog “Confessions from the Man Cave,”since what’s there to confess about the contents of a den dedicated to the mindless pursuit of mainstream masculine recreation? The sin of Coors in the fridge? A sloping pool table? The vagaries of video games and the hidden meaning of the X in X-Box?

My confession is this. This Man Cave…the one I’m writing from, is far from the above, in fact it’s far above the above. Down in my bunker is me, a writer, with a half-empty glass of wine whose papers are sprawled over a door that’s now a desk, sat upon a silver chair that sports rams’ heads on either side of the back rest—so as not to leave me entirely impotent—and a figure of Maximon, the Guatemalan saint of the sinners, watching my back from a shelf that’s really a window ledge at ground level. Hardly a Man Cave, you’d say? More like a man in a cave.

Like all writers I believe in authority, hence the word author. And I believe that this weekly confessional will touch on my favorite topics of consumerism, politics, sports, sex, the environment or society at large, as well as an exceedingly large number of intangibles that draw on some of the aforementioned. To this I shall lend my many strengths of which envy, back-handed largesse, crudeness, intoxication and narrow-mindedness, to mention the most endearing, will be put to the task at hand. We’ll become familiar in no time, forging a common bond through our respective myopia. Topics that seem important to me and not to you will be posted and subsequently shot down. It sort of brings to mind duck hunting, wouldn’t you say?

I chose to baptize this blog in homage to the author Thomas de Quincey. His claim to fame? “Confessions of an English Opium Eater.” Like me he was trapped in a den of iniquity. Left only to his mind and the journeys it could send him on through the power of the Poppy. De Quincey wrote inside the belly of his own beast. I, as a humble mimic will attempt the same.

Why should you read? I’ll bring you tidbits of my professional anguish, private perversity and a look at life that can only be seen from the man who lives in the cave of manhood…a very touchy subject…like our notion of democracy. I am a man in a Man Cave like Osama bin Laden is a man who’s also in a Man Cave. We both understand shadows and know them to be illusions. We seek the light we know to be truth, although for Osama that’s tough to do with NATO drones overhead. And like the Coors ad says—whoever happened to tune in to the World Series—“I like the way I’m living. And I’ve got my reasons why.” Profound really. No? Sounds like our foreign policy…served icy cool. In fact, Pete Coors, you know, the guy that looks as pure as the driven snow he’s stumbling over hocking you his booze, should be secretary of state…the absolute negative to the one we currently enjoy. He could fly around the world having beers with his foreign counterparts. In the Middle East and the Gulf regions that could prove difficult, but through negotiation common ground could be sort, leading to Coors drunk from Styrofoam cups bringing about the taking down of walls and the creations of dreams and peace. Coors: Not just a satisfying brew. The Martin Luther King of Beers.


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