The Long Game

 
Instantaneous results are a product of the technological advancements in computing technology starting in the 1970s. The advent of the silicone central processing unit (CPU) has empowered and entrenched humanity, while concurrently disseminating unconscionable amounts of information- currently at the tip of your fingers. Our attention span is less than an 8-week old golden retriever, who’s organic, wild caught salmon dog food was app ordered, and drone delivered.
 
From a business perspective, technology has revolutionized and empowered entrepreneurs to bring products to market quicker, with lower costs, at higher quality and with fewer defects. Fifth graders are designing, engineering, and manufacturing products in their bedrooms, with a smart phone and a 3D printer. And, you can’t find a Fucking job... 
 
Technology does have its limitations. There are things in the world that must be made the old fashioned way- with phalanges, perseverance, passion and a fuckton of hard work. These things will never be considered antiquated or outdated. They are eternal. And there are no shortcuts on the road to eternity.
 
Whiskey is at the top of this list. Or as Geri would vehemently argue, Brandy. I am not taking about the mass market shit you buy at some party store. I am talking about the good stuff, tucked away in the cellar of a true artisan. I am taking about art. In spirit form. 
 
Before we opened the doors to Ethanology, I was that golden retriever. When you work 100+ hours, week in, and week out, to fill a barrel you won’t taste for 10 long years you begin to have a paradigm shift. You start to think about the long game. Not in years, but decades and centuries. You look at each spirit as an artistical representation of who you are. 
 
Geri and I conceptualized and built every piece of Ethanology. Including the steel I-beam sign out front. On that sign I welded my initials and the date on which I built that sign. One day, when that fucker is falling apart, I hope there is some good stuff in the Ethanolo¿y cellar. 
 
Much love,
 
Nick