Squad Car Dragnet

The case of Mistaken Perceptions

It was a cold, clear evening in Los Angeles. The rain from the two El Nino storms had stopped and left the streets of the Arts District clean and smelling decent. The district is on the edge of skid row, for years the home to persons left to their own devices. The Federal government had cut support for the homeless, people in need. We cops had to keep the lid on. My partner Officer Bill Cannon and I were called to a disturbance at the Association, an upscale bar that didn't usually have disturbances.

We weren't looking forward to it. There was never a good feeling in a place when booze and temper mixed. The street was dark but with more lighting than when it was just unoccupied factories. Everywhere was evidence of "upscaling." When we got there, we were confused. The uniforms already had the front and back doors covered, Cannon went to check in the restrooms.  But there was no riot. It wasn't quiet, but no riot.

At the bar, the disturbance, if you can call it that, was mostly shouts of enthusiasm; the "mixologist" had two versions of the new peach flavored whiskey: one was a mix of Bulleit rye whiskey and Peach Flavored Squad Car Moonshine, with a cherry, known as the Bulleit Proof; the other was a surprisingly tasty, unique Devil Went Down to Georgia--blended with Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey.

Everyone who stepped up to the bar was forced to sample the two drinks.  Forced!  That's what caused the cheers!  That's what the disturbance was.  Not much forcing was in effect, really.

Turns out, some of the patrons put it all on their media devices.  Now I'm not a big fan of these things, because what happened to issue that disturbance call, happened here.  An endless stream of Snap Chats, Instagram pics, and Tweets flooded the Internet.  Pretty soon, a citizen across the street, second floor, was hearing nothing but boisterous shouts, shoving, and celebrating.  We saw the man. He assumed it was what it was not, a riot.  A clear case of mistaken perception.

Lots of people assume that violence is fueled by alcohol; but the folks we found downtown were just - happy.

Did I resist tasting one of the best drinks local bars have come up with in the last few years?  Can't say I did, cause I didn't.  

Me? I'm Detective Sergeant Joe Viernes.  I wear a badge.  And this is the City of Angels.

Squad Car Peach Flavored Moonshine - a Modern Look at a Classic

Apples, corn, and governments clash during prohibition.  Hard apple cider, corn whiskey, and taxes set the stage for rebellion.

As Americans expanded to the west, taking land far from civilization and far from taxes, apple trees were planted to assure settlers stayed there for years.  The use of hard cider made from those apples whetted an appetite for relief from the drudgery of hard farming work.  Next came hard liquors made from corn, wheat, and rye.

Our new republic needed revenue, and alcohol provided that money.  Avoiding paying the tax on alcohol became a way of life in rural America.  If I could just have my drink and not pay the tax, I'd be in heaven.  There's an old song by a mid twentieth century philosopher and songwriter:

"My daddy he made whiskey, my granddaddy he did too

We ain't paid no whiskey tax since 1792

You'll just lay there by the juniper while the moon is bright

Watch them jugs a-filling in the pale moonlight."  

My great-granddaddy, Papa Jack was a sheriff in a small town in southern Georgia and because he had to enforce the law and keep from getting plugged by his neighbors, he dabbled in the smuggling and producing of moonshine whiskey.  He couldn't exactly arrest some of his friends, could he?

When the moonshiners did avoid the law, it was in fast cars that could outrun poor Papa Jack.  You couldn't catch a V-8 with a four cylinder coupe, could you?  Papa Jack was low and slow, under the radar; and he smuggled with the best of them.

Now, Papa Jack's moonshine lives in the new recipe of Squad Car Peach flavored whiskey.  It is smooth.  It is flavorful.  It is just right for drinking straight up, on the rocks, or in a mixed drink.  Yours for the asking!