This post is titled for the folks at the Victory Brewing, an excellent establishment about an hour outside of Philadelphia. I may have written about Victory products before. If so, it bears mentioning again, in part because I’m currently working on my fifth bottle of their Storm King Stout, a luscious imperial stout with an alcohol-by-volume content of a little over 9 percent. That’s well over what you’d find in a bottle of Budweiser — or similar pisswater macrobrew. I’m feeling a little bit like I did in high school, when a six-pack was more than enough to provide an interesting twist to any given evening. Tonight, six Storm Kings will be plenty.

More than plenty, in fact. I’m feeling expansive, yet, um, stunted, all at the same time. And what does that mean, boys and girls? Bullets, and little more.

* Baseball season starts in a week — a little less than than if you’re one of the miserable bastards who follows the Yankees or the Red Sox, who play next Sunday. That’s not an automatic harbinger of Spring — at least not in Cleveland, where my team resides, or in lovely PNC Park, across the river from downtown Pittsburgh. But it’s coming. Soon. And despite all I’ve written about rediscovering the pleasures of winter, that’s a good thing.

* I’m going to quit harping on the basketball tournament for a couple of days. Until Saturday, let’s leave it at this: Uncle Crappy, also known as Attack Cat (for that lousy mascot/logo my alma mater has adopted), is solidly in first place of the Big One.

* I think The Wife and I have discovered a new home bar. The beer selection is outrageous, the food is excellent, and the folks who work there are getting to know us, and don’t seem to mind our company. Lots of TVs, a kick-ass jukebox. The one teensy problem? We’re in Butler. The bar, known to most as the Sharp Edge Beer Emporium, is in East Liberty. OK. Get out your maps. Butler is up here. East Liberty is waaaaaaaaay down here. And seeing as how the police still tend to frown on driving for an hour after drinking Belgian tripel for several hours, that’s going to be a challenge.

* “Tripel” is spelled correctly. Really.

* We may also have a bar in Butler, but it’s a much less satisfying choice. The beer selection is fair, for Butler. The pizza is pretty good, as are the cheeseburgers. The owner, a former state trooper, seems to like us. And a couple of friends — a local GOP playa and her buddy, both of whom are very cool — seem to like the place. We have fun. But it ain’t quite right. Jesus, I miss Christina’s.

* Every time I try to type an asterisks to start a new section, I hit control instead of shift. The new computer makes this low-register beeping noise that always reminds me of the old National Lampoon skit that Bill Murray did about a bass player talking with Mr. Rogers. I don’t even think there was any music involved in the piece, but the noise triggers the memory anyway.

* I just did it again.

* Bill Murray is at least an Illinois fan, and possibly a graduate. Go Illini!

* I’m taking a brief respite from the downloaded hippie music in favor of the Wilco show we saw last year in Point State Park. Unbelievable night. And such a great fucking CD. Here’s what we’ll do, just to see if anyone is paying attention: the first person to send me an e-mail requesting a copy will get one. Don’t worry about B&P and all that shit; just send me an address and give me a few days. Yes, most of the people who check on Uncle Crappy already have a copy, but let’s see if anyone else is out there.

* Somebody remind me to buy blank CDs at the store tomorrow.

* I need new glasses.

* Once, at a spring quarter party at the rented house of *(&%*&^@#&Y8 (I’m not feeling up to making up a new nickname tonight) on North High Street in Athens, I got a headful and did a beautiful air guitar solo to a live version of “Blue Sky” by the Allman Brothers Band while standing on the porch railing of the house. There seemed to be other parties going on that afternoon; I remember this because several of them applauded when the song was done. It was totally a reaction to a sudden break in the shitty weather in favor of something sunny and warm. I need that. Now.

* Ahh, that’s plenty for tonight. Putting on the Allman Brothers — perhaps the premiere springtime rock ‘n’ roll band — having another beer and then heading to bed. Or maybe another beer.