Christmas morning coming down

Today's diversity lecture is about not making stupid assumptions on behalf of your audience. Oh, and the bit about cliches too.

Truth be told, Your Editor is sitting here with a pint watching preseason hockey on the teevees. It's the ESB from the nearest local, which is a great day-in, day-out beer. But for some reason Bell's made enough of its Oktoberfest that the stores didn't all run out in early September, so that's in the fridge for backup, because we haven't picked up any of the seasonal from the next nearest local, which also usually produces the best pilsner in town, except for that one-off at Lily's (the third-nearest local) a year and a half ago that was like sitting on the banks of the Elbe.*

Leaving aside all the Old World grapes and New World grapes and single-malts like being slapped across the face with a Hibernian sponge soaked in iodine, yes: I will take a drink every now and then. Hence my amazement at this bizarre frontpage story, in which my happiness appears to have hinged on the ability to buy the stuff on Sunday mornings. So dear Capitol Bureau chief and dear morons who approve the 1A ledes, no. This legislative achievement is of no concern to me. None. This is not a story about Christmas coming early for drinkers. This is a story about Christmas coming early for ...

Ellen Belanger, manager of the Park Bar near Comerica Park and Ford Field in Detroit, said the new law could be a boon for business on game days.

If you are a drinker, then, you may continue to wait until 5, or 7, or 10:59, or the next day or week, as you wish. This is not a measure about the pleasures of drinking. It's about selling drinks at 11 on Sunday morning. Those who would pontificate on the front pages of newspapers would do well to learn the difference. And to stop saying "Christmas in September," while they're at it.

* Not too far from where Your Editor watched the US-Iran match in the 2006 World Cup, as it turns out.