Joe's Country

Joe [Smith's] story is most implausible. Indeed so implausible that Mitt Romney would have had a dastardly time explaining how we might rely upon his judgement in regards to say, fiscal policy, when said judgement seems so obviously impaired in discerning the credulity of a certain self-proclaimed Utah-based Prophet. That said, and ignoring Mr Smith's amusingly revisionist scribblings, he was not (apparently) incompetent when it came to mother nature and seeing the merit in locating one's hall of worship nary a twenty-five mintue drive from what is the hands-down-best and most challenging powder skiing in the lower forty-eight states, making it a fine place to escape from the strenuous market dramas taxing one's brain (and cortisol) production. This is particularly true when [God, Mother Nature, The Sugarplum Faerie] drops nearly two feet of fresh upon The Mount, munificently clearing the sky of all obstruction by daybreak!!

OK the people are a little too earnest for me. The arts & crafts rather kitsch. The food and lodging are most basic and without praise. The apres-ski wholly non-existant. But the skiing is breath-taking, and some Utah philistines do have a sense of humour, particularly the local brewers, offering up such goodies as Wasatch's "Polygamy Porter" (Slogan: "Why Have Just One?") , or Squattter Brewery's "Revelation Ale", "St. Provo Girl" (with a thinner, more seductive serving wench on the label than Bremen's St. Pauli Girl), and my favorite, a crisp lager called "Chasing Tail", who slogan is "Don't Make Me Beg!"

Religion seems to bring out the best in alcoholic-artisans, for Israel's foremost handmade beer is called He-Brew, whose slogan is "The Chosen One....."