ON THE INTERNET, you can get almost anything. Books, baseball tix, bank loans . . . even broads.
Starting soon, you can even buy wine.

But in Pennsylvania, you can’t buy beer on the Internet.

At least, not legally.

Pennsylvania is one of a handful of states that still treats beer as if it were a Class 1 narcotic. Nearly everywhere else in this country, you can pick up your Bud along with your bread at your friendly supermarket. Wanna sixpack in pee-ay? Slink into your local bar, and maybe they’ll have something cold. But only two at a time – that’s the limit. They’ve gotta be wrapped in brown paper, and forget about discounts – you’re going to pay a premium.

It’s no surprise that, with rules left over from 1933, we can’t enjoy a modern convenience.

But a ruling last month by a federal court in New York could force Pennsylvania into the 21st century.

In a case brought by a Virginia winery, U.S. District Judge Richard M. Berman ruled a New York law that allows only in-state wineries to ship directly to residents is unconstitutional. The regulation, like many similar state liquor laws, was a product of the 21st Amendment, which (in addition to ending Prohibition) gave states direct control of alcohol sales. But Berman’s ruling says the federal Interstate Commerce Clause, which prohibits discrimination against out-of-state businesses, trumps the 21st Amendment.

Experts believe the ruling will not immediately affect Pennsylvania wine sales because the state doesn’t give in-state wineries a similar advantage. All wine and spirits, regardless of where they’re made, must be sold through the state store system.

The state Liquor Control Board, though, is finally dipping its toe into digital waters. Soon, Pennsylvanians will be able to buy almost any wine made in the world through the LCB’s Web site. You’ll have to go pick up your bottle at your local wine and spirits shop, but if your favorite California boutique winery is willing to ship it, you can get it.

How about beer?

Forget about it. Unless your favorite micro in northern Oregon ships pallets to East Coast beer distributors, you’re prohibited from receiving even a sixpack of the stuff. Technically, you’re not even allowed to hop on a plane and bring back a souvenir bottle in your suitcase.

An LCB spokeswoman noted that Pennsylvania already has plenty of good brews. Well, she has a point – if you ignore the entire microbrew and import explosion of the past 10 years. If nothing else, the astounding variety of products on the shelves – whether it’s beer, coffee or blue soda – should tell the terminally business-unsavvy drones at the LCB that consumers want more, more, MORE!

“Believe me, we’d love to be in Pennsylvania,” said Rob Imeson, president of BeverageBistro

.Com. His company handles sales for the Michael Jackson beer-of-the-month club. Every month, it sends out a half-case of specialties from around the world – brews you can’t find anywhere else in America.

“Pennsylvania is the one state, because of the beer sophistication and the population, that we’d like to be able to do business in,” Imeson said.

He tried to launch sales here a year ago – but was thwarted by authorities.

Blame the state cops.

According to Nick Lucca, president of Lionstone International, a Chicago-based importer/wholesaler that handles deliveries for Imeson and other Internet companies, police regulations prohibit direct delivery to the consumer.

In other states, said Lucca, Lionstone negotiates the complexities of the Prohibition-era “three-tier” system. That system, designed to keep the mob out of the alcohol business, requires that beer move from brewer to wholesaler to retailer before a consumer can fill ‘er up.

But in Pennsylvania, a consumer must physically pick up the booze from a retailer – a provision that theoretically limits underage drinking.

The underage issue, though, is a red herring, said Lucca. If a kid wants beer, he’s hardly going to go to the trouble of mail-ordering a case of Coors Light and waiting two weeks for delivery.

Some experts think the state will soon be dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Internet age.

“Pennsylvania law is vulnerable on beer,” said industry consultant Mark Rodman.

A number of its regs, he noted, favor in-state brewers, especially in the distribution of their beer. If other courts follow Judge Berman’s lead, it could mean the end of state laws that helped protect Pottsville’s Yuengling Brewing, for example, from competition from St. Louis.

Will that lead to Internet beer sales?

Rodman thinks beer-by-mail packagers should start shipping into Pennsylvania today.

“It would be highly problematic for the LCB to stop it,” Rodman said. “They can pretty safety start shipping into Pennsylvania, but they better pay their taxes. ”

A few final notes for those who’ve made it all the way to the bottom of this column:

Don’t tell the LCB, but there are several Internet beer-mailers who will ship into Pennsylvania. I won’t name them here because I don’t want to blow their cover.

Just sign up and they’ll tell you if they ship here. If they do, don’t ask questions.

(I’ve got one guy in California who sends me beer marked “yeast sample. ” Hey, it’s the truth. )

As an alternative, send your Internet sixpack to a friend in Jersey, where it’s legal. Just don’t be surprised if it’s missing a bottle or two.

Here’s six beer clubs on the Internet. Remember, there are only five shopping days left till Christmas.

1.  www.RealBeer.com, home of the Michael Jackson Real Beer, Great Beers of Belgium and the American Brewers Club.
2.  www.BeerontheWall.com, with hard-to-find California brews.
3.  www.beeramerica.com, the Internet’s largest beer-of-the-month club.
4.  www.beermonthclub.com, with micros from coast to coast.
5.  www.microclub.com, with selections from winners at the Great American Beer Festival.
6.  www.worldbeerdirect.com, with micros and premium imports.

Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Deschutes Jubelale.

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Break out the Christmas beer, today is St. Nicholas Day. No, not Christmas – you’ve still got 19 days of standing in line at Wal-Mart for that.

Dec. 6 is the day the rest of the world (OK, would you believe, the Netherlands?) lifts a pint to St. Nicholas the original Santa Claus. Born in the fourth century in what is now Turkey, the future symbol of consumer excess was an archbishop with a reputation for piety. How that grew into the tradition of Christmastime gift-giving, you’ll have to ask Hans in Amsterdam.

Though the beer-drinking connection is even less obvious, it should be noted that St. Nicholas is the patron saint of both sailors and virgins.

More to the point, St. Nicholas Day is also the day they traditionally brew Samichlaus Bier, the super-strong (14 percent alcohol) Christmas beer from Austria’s Eggenberger brewery. The doppelbock lagers for 10 months, so the stuff you see on shelves this month was made last year.

Or maybe even earlier (see below).

Too strong? Too old?

Then try one of these other Joe Sixpack holiday favorites.

Great-looking bottles

Take them to holiday parties, but make sure you do the pouring.

• Delirium Noel – From Belgium’s Huyghe Brewery, it features Santa and his tiny pink elephants.
• Samuel Smith Winter Welcome – A new label every year, the 2002 version is a nod to the Queen Elizabeth’s golden jubilee.
• St. Nikolaus Bock – This is a purist’s double bock with a purist’s pre-shopping mall Santa.
• Rogue Santa’s Private Reserve Ale – St. Nick raises a mug – and his fist – on a bed of snowflakes that actually glisten in the light.

A little spice

Forget the German purity law that forbids anything other than water, malt, yeast and hops. These brews have secret ingredients.

• La Binchoise Speciale Noel – Like a spicy champagne, this Belgian angel hit me with a honey, banana and vanilla.
• Anchor Merry Christmas and Happy New Year – Apparently no longer called “Our Special Ale,” the 28th version of this seasonal is the usual inscrutable melange of clove, nutmeg and ginger.
• North Coast Wintertime Ale – Let this one sit a half hour after cracking the cap. The aroma will open up with a subtle blend of spices.

Hometown favorites

Locals pull out the stops with stronger brews in the winter.

• Flying Fish Grand Cru Winter Reserve – If you smell fruit, it’s the yeast at work. If you smell burning toast, you’re having a stroke. Around $25 a case, it’s an excellent price for a superb beer.
• Weyerbacher Winter Ale – A dark ale from Easton, it goes well with hearty stews and sausage.

Mainstream

Can’t get to a specialty shop? You can find these almost anywhere.

• Sam Adams Winter Lager – As Boston Beer revamps its image for the kiddies, this is one of the last of Boston Beer’s labels depicting the brewery’s colonial namesake. I’m guessing the labels are left over from last year.
• Sam Adams Cranberry Lambic – Juicy and lightly tart, it’s not bad if you like this sort of thing. Taste one before investing in a sixpack.
• Pete’s Wicked Winter Brew – Nutmeg and raspberry flavor, reminiscent of Robitussin.
• Winterhook Robust Winter Ale – Dark, roasty and, at under 5 percent alcohol, one of the lighter holiday brews.

The classics

It wouldn’t be Christmas without ’em.

• Stille Nacht – Though no longer using distinctive Rodenbach yeast, this annual still teases the tongue with a tingling bite.
• Samichlaus Bier – You can still find bottles, like this one from ’97, brewed at the original Swiss brewery. Now made in Austria, still just as malty, almost nutty.
• Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale – Philly beer freaks wonder why anyone gets excited about this brew when we have Victory HopDevil year-round. I say: Get into the spirit. It’s a terrific California ale.
• Wild Goose Snowgoose – Another beer that suffered when the brewery switched yeast. Still a hearty treat.

Primo

I’m hoping these are in my stocking this year.

• Geary’s Hampshire Special Ale – I don’t get much spice here. Instead, it’s a broad, malt flavor beautifully balanced by Cascade hops.
• Anderson Valley Winter Solstice – Like Anchor, this California brewery changes recipes annually. Very smooth.
• Abbey Val Dieu Biere de Noel – Think Chimay Grande Reserve, then add icicles.

-30-

TECHNICALLY speaking, Dogfish Head World Wide Stout is not a Christmas beer. Not unless you’re talking about Christmas 2012.
Instead, it is the Delaware brewery’s latest stab at the world’s strongest beer. This year’s version hit 23.04 percent, about 5 points more than last year’s and just a notch under the record of 24 percent (held by Sam Adams Utopias MMII).

“We did everything we could to get to 24, but we fell just short,” brewery President Sam Calagione told me this week as he tooled up the Jersey Turnpike to unveil the beer in Manhattan. “Still, it’s about a pale ale stronger than last year’s,” which hit 18 percent.

With that much alcohol, it’ll take years for this beer to mature and smooth out the rough edges. You could easily hold onto it till your first-grade kid is old enough to share a bottle at his college graduation. And, at prices ranging from $135 to $150 a case, you won’t be guzzling down a sixpack while watching the Birds Monday night.

But ’tis the season. This stout can be consumed now.

Still aren’t sure? Here’s a World Wide Stout FAQ.

What’s it taste like?

Victory Storm King Stout plus Sandeman Port ’98 minus a box of Raisinettes times the square root of Old City Balzac Blend java over a 10-year-old Aberlour Scotch whisky.

All right, now in English.

The office tasters described it as: strong . . . sherry-like . . . too sweet . . . delicious . . . perfect after the day I just had . . . like a very angry Guinness.

Is it worth $135 a case?

That’s up to you. At that price, it ain’t your father’s Yuengling. But it also ain’t Utopias, which was up on eBay this week for $300 for a single 24-ounce bottle. It’s more like your rich uncle’s case of merlot. The price works out to $5.62 a bottle – 12 cents more than the price of a cup of crappy beer at the Vet. Yes, it’s expensive, but – with this kind of punch – the beer was made to be split with friends. I suggest sampling a single bottle (available locally at the Foodery, 10th and Pine streets) before investing in 24.

Why is this stuff so expensive?

Think ingredients. It started out with about 6-7 times the malt bill of your standard lager. Then it had to be tended for four months in a cooling tank.

How was the beer made so strong?

Alcohol is produced when yeast feasts on sugar. In this case, a lot of sugar, in the form of dark barley malts, malt extract, brown sugar and other sweet stuff that Dogfish Head won’t reveal.

What about the yeast?

That’s the tricky part. When alcohol content reaches double digits, it kills yeast, though various strains can survive in higher levels. In past years, the brewery added yeast in seven increasingly stronger doses, slowly nudging the alcohol content upward. This year, the brewery scaled back to just three yeast strains: Belgian (also used in Dogfish Head’s Immort Ale and Raison d’Etre), champagne (used often in high-alcohol beers), and “Yeast Strain X,” which Calagione says “we don’t talk about. ”

Any other tricks?

Other breweries have been known to achieve high buzz levels by fortifying their beer with straight distilled alcohol (a la malternatives, like Smirnoff Ice). Boston Beer says that while its Utopias is aged in used whiskey kegs, its alcohol is achieved solely from fermentation. Interestingly, Dogfish Head runs a distillery at its Rehoboth Beach, Del., brewpub. But Calagione insists the alcohol is purely the product of fermentation. “I’d be insane to run it through the distillery and then fall short of the world record,” he says.

What about hops?

This beer is all about the malt, so don’t go sniffing for fresh flowers in the aroma. Nonetheless, a strong hops presence was needed to balance the sweetness. Healthy doses of Northern Brewer and Warrior hops produced a beer with around 75 international bittering units, which is equal to a very hoppy India Pale Ale.

Where’s the head?

A beer this thick won’t hold a huge head, but there are some bubbles, the product of forced carbonation.

Forced carbonation?

Many craft brews – including most of those made by Dogfish Head – get their carbonation naturally, through the addition of sugar or malt extract to the bottle. Unlike factory-made beer, which is filtered, these brews contain a bit of unspent yeast, which continues to ferment for weeks or months inside the bottle. That final fermentation, known as bottle-conditioning, produces tiny CO2 bubbles. But the high alcohol in World Wide Stout is toxic to yeast, so bottle-conditioning is out of the question. The CO2 is injected, or forced, just before bottling.

What’s the deal with those labels?

Dogfish Head originally described the stout as “a very dark beer brewed with a ridiculous amount of barley, vim & vigor. ” But the feds didn’t like that word, “vigor,” believing it implies extra strength (well, duh!). Now those final words are crossed out with a Sharpie.

Why is it so hard to find?

The brewery made 105 barrels, which yielded only 1,400 cases. Few beer distributors are willing to stock such an expensive beer, fearing they’ll have to eat unsold cases. But most quality distributors will special-order the beer. Devoted fans have been known to make the trek north from as far away as Florida for this Delaware Destroyer.

Is it available on tap?

Yes, but good luck finding it. Only 20 mini-kegs were filled and sent to several outposts in New York, Chicago and elsewhere. Locally, Monk’s Cafe (16th and Spruce streets, Center City) will probably pour it, but I’m guessing co-owners Tom Peters and Fergus Carey will sit on this one awhile.

What about the beer gut?

At 666 calories per bottle, World Wide Stout is “the anti-Christ of light beers,” jokes Calagione. But, like all beer, it contains no fat. “Keep one of these beers in your car,” he says. “If you get lost or stuck, you could survive on it for a week.”

Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Gouden Carolus Noel.

-30-

ON A brisk, rainy morning this week in a generic suburban shopping center, Brian O’Reilly shuffled into work to honor a tradition that brewers around the world have practiced for 700 years.

It was time to brew this year’s Christmas beer.

This is no small matter for brewers. Winter Warmer, Holiday Reserve, Santa Claus Beer – whatever it’s called, a brewer’s Christmas beer is the most special of the year. It goes back to medieval monks, who traditionally saved their best ingredients for a brew to honor the birth of Christ.

Or, at least, that’s the story.

For O’Reilly, the lone brewer at Phoenixville’s Sly Fox Brewhouse & Eatery, it’s a chance to play to the crowd.

“Everybody at a brewpub expects a Christmas beer,” O’Reilly said while running a paddle through a thick mash of steaming grain. “It’s like egg nog or hot cider – you want a taste of something special, that you only drink once a year.”

The pressure is on, then.

O’Reilly showed no stress, however. Dressed in a T-shirt and tattered jeans – the usual, comfortable garb for a 30-something brewer – he seemed at ease in the confined space of his brewhouse. Up and down a steel ladder, he busily adjusted valves and checked gauges.

“I’ve been doing this for nine years,” he shrugged, paddling the porridge-like mash.

A native of New England, he got his start by apprenticing in a couple of small New Hampshire breweries before taking a job with the John Harvard chain in Cleveland. He hit the local scene in ’99 at New Road, the former Collegeville brewpub, where he quickly gained notice with a gold medal winner (a German-style Pilsener) at the Great American Beer Festival.

After New Road’s brewery went dry, O’Reilly spent a few months at Victory in Downingtown before landing the Sly Fox gig last March.

He quickly showed that his GABF medal was no fluke. Last month, America’s most important beer-judging event handed O’Reilly a bronze for his French Creek Helles, a light lager.

Beer freaks noticed. You see a Sly Fox tap handle, you know you’re going to get an expertly crafted brew with balanced flavor. Helles, for instance, greets you like a routine thirst-quencher – the sort of thing you’ve been drinking since you turned 18. But it finishes with a remarkably rounded malt body that raises the stakes well above lawnmower standards.

It is pure and simple.

And that’s not an easy feat where the limited space and rudimentary equipment of a tiny brewpub conspire against a brewer. Each batch at Sly Fox produces only about 25 kegs – enough for a decent-sized frat party.

I wondered how O’Reilly would tackle the challenge of a head-banger like Christmas beer.

When I visited, midway through the batch, a comfortable haze of steam lifted out of the mash tun. The sweet aroma wafted into my face and fogged my glasses.

“In New England, Christmas beers are usually big, hoppy IPAs [India Pale Ale],” he said. “Of course, brewers loved it.

“But when I got out to Cleveland, they expected a spiced ale. So we developed a Harvest Ale, a malty red ale with a lot of spices.”

Red ales got a bum rap a few years ago when, in a flash of popularity, every brewpub (and even a few suds factories) sprayed its own crimson version at addled patrons. Many of ’em were red in color only, with little of the roasty malt flavor balanced with high hops bitterness.

For O’Reilly, red ale provides just enough sweetness to balance the spices he ‘ll use to flavor this beer. It starts with British pale malt, then a touch of caramel malt (for sweetness) and chocolate malt (for dark color).

He uses Centennial hops, a West Coast favorite known for its occasional appearance in Sierra Nevada’s annual Celebration Ale. But O’Reilly uses only enough to produce a relatively low 20 International Bitterness Units (by comparison, a decent IPA will reach 50 IBUs).

“I’m not really concerned with the hops presence on this beer,” said O ‘Reilly. “The Centennial will give me some fruity flavor, but the aroma and flavor mostly boil out.”

The same goes with the yeast. It’s a British pale ale yeast, which will provide some natural fruitiness after fermentation – but not enough to notice in the glass.

“Really,” said O’Reilly. “This beer gets its flavor from the spices.”

Cinnamon, allspice, clove, nutmeg, fresh ginger. Instead of cooking the spices into the beer, a tea of those spices will be added just before kegging. O ‘Reilly says that’ll give the ale a fresher flavor.

Somewhere, I know, a Budcoorsmiller drinker is grimacing. Nutmeg in beer? What is this, mom’s pumpkin pie?

Where’s your holiday spirit, pal?

At 7 percent alcohol, Sly Fox Christmas Ale will put a smile on your face.

Because Sly Fox is so small, most of O’Reilly’s beer is available only at the brewpub. It’s at Pikeland Village Square on Route 113, just south of Phoenixville.

A few kegs do make it out of P-ville.

Christmas ale will make an appearance at Grey Lodge Pub (6235 Frankford Ave., Mayfair) around Thanksgiving. You’ll find other Sly Fox styles on occasion at Standard Tap (2nd & Poplar, Northern Liberties), Monk’s Cafe (16th and Spruce streets, Center City), Chap’s Taproom (2509 West Main St., Jeffersonville) and the Drafting Room, (635 N. Pottstown Pike, Exton).

Here’s another heads-up: By the end of the year, look for bottles of Sly Fox Ichor. Now fermenting, it’s O’Reilly’s stab at an abbey-style tripel, like Chimay Grand Reserve or Westvleteren 12.

The name? “Ichor” is the Greek mythological term for blood of the Gods.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a growler of Sly Fox Pughtown Porter.

-30-

THE ELECTION’S over, our man is in, it’s time to spend all that money.

You know, the cash Ed Rendell is going to siphon from those tax-paying saps in western Pennsylvania. If I’ve heard the Mike Fisher ads correctly, once Rendell’s set up in the governor’s office, he’ll immediately begin forwarding checks to area code 215.

Yesterday afternoon, I headed out to Center City bars for a quick check on how locals intended to cash in. What do they want Gov. Rendell to do for Philadelphia?

I already had my list:

1. Buy us a Major League Baseball team.

2. Shoot down that damn Zoo balloon.

3. Repave my street. (OK, they just did it last month, but I noticed a tiny crack near my driveway. Not like it’s my money, right? ) Around town, I figured elbow-benders would be lining up for the Harrisburg hand-outs.

Four-day work weeks . . . free valet parking on South Broad Street . . . draft beer hydrants . . . Barcaloungers on the D Bus . . . guaranteed winning lottery tickets . . . hell, three-day work weeks.

Instead, I got a lot of goody-goody stuff. You know, responsible civic-minded ideas.

Barbara Small, 46, of Germantown, was cooling off after work with a Miller Lite at McGillin’s on Drury Street. She wasn’t looking for freebies.

“Just make sure Social Security keeps going for the elderly,” she said as the Ramones played on the juke.

“And decent schools for the children. And keep the streets clean. Get rid of the abandoned cars and the drug houses. “

At McGlinchey’s, on 15th Street, it was more of the same mawkish virtues. George Deas, 47, of South Philadelphia, is unemployed. You figure he’s got his ticket punched, now that Rendell’s in office. A no-show job? A new Cadillac? Free cable TV?

Nah.

“Get more businesses to stay in the state and rebuild the tax base in the city,” said Deas, holding a mug of Rolling Rock. “I need a job. I want to work. “

For pure, unmitigated benevolence, the worst of these tavern pundits had to be Scott Reese, 32, who I interrupted in the middle of a pint of Boddington’s at Moriarty’s, on Walnut Street.

“You know,” said Reese, “the rest of the state is like the Midwest once you get past Lancaster – it’s not exactly cosmopolitan out there. “

“I say Rendell oughta try improving the rest of the state. “

Wait a minute, wait a minute – send the money to Pittsburgh?

Look, those of you who weren’t around the last time a Philly guy ran things, let me tell you, it was sweet. Milt Shapp paved Lancaster Avenue in gold and we all got secret tax refunds.

Get your priorities in order, Philadelphia. We’ve finally got our man in Harrisburg.

-30-

PITTSBURGH- It’s not, apparently, because we’re city slickers. Or shiftless and corrupt. It’s not because we’re smarter. Or healthier and better looking. It’s not because our mayor is black. Or the former mayor is Jewish. It’s not even because, this season, the Eagles can stomp the Steelers.

The reason Pittsburgh hates Philadelphia so much – the reason Mike Fisher is trying to win votes out here by scaring them with the Philly boogeyman – is they figure we’re robbing them blind.

And we’ve been doing it for 100 years.

Send a Philadelphian to Harrisburg, they worry here, and the state’s tax dollars for economic development will go right back to the bottomless pit on Broad Street.

Right or wrong, that notion finds clarity in the smoke of the Pittsburgh Cigar Bar, a cozy watering hole in the shadow of this city’s glass towers.

Paul Bliss, a hefty man who describes himself as a banker, takes a short draw off his Hoya Petite and lets loose.

“I don’t like the way he looks,” says Bliss. “He looks like a crook, really. ”

He’s talking about Ed Rendell.

But I’m thinking: I don’t like the way you look, pal. That cigar is way too small for a man your size.

I listen and take a hit off my robusto and a slug from a pint of Arrogant Bastard Ale. An earlier glass of Iron City (pronounced ’round here as Arn City) has left a bad taste, and now this guy is turning my stomach.

I don’t care who wins the election, see. But I don’t much care for some ‘burgher bad-mouthing Philly.

Bliss goes on about that scuffle with the taxi drivers, how Rendell paid cabbies 50 bucks to appear in his ads. He’s heard other stuff, too.

“He appears to be the kind of guy who will raise all kinds of taxes,” Bliss says. “Then all the money will go to Philadelphia. ”

His pal, Mike Kozel, notices my neck turning red. He tries to ease things.

“Fisher’d probably do the same thing if he gets in,” Kozel chimes.

Bliss shoots him a look. Kozel reverses himself.

“That’s the way it always is. Elect someone from the east, and that’s where all the money goes.

“We only get the leftovers. ”

So what, I wonder, would you want the next governor to do for Pittsburgh?

Bliss puts down his cigar.

“Put in a mag-lev for the airport. ”

A mag-lev – that’s a high-speed train.

The nicotine burns my throat.

Down the street, they’re building a new convention center. Across the river, they have two brand-new stadiums up and running. PNC, Mellon, Kvaerner – they all have new palaces downtown.

Back home, Philadelphia’s schools are falling apart. Our property taxes are going through the roof. Vacant houses and open-market drug sales are destroying neighborhoods. The population has plummeted. The airport is a mess And SEPTA’s escalators are broken.

And this guy wants our next governor to build him a Disneyland monorail?

They say you can tell a lot about a man by his cigar. Not to be overly judgmental, but this city has been smoking something funny.

-30-

PICK A BAR, any bar, and you’ll find a difference of opinion.
Music, chicks, sports, politics, best episode of “The Simpsons” – doesn’t matter, there’s always somebody who doesn’t agree.

Take that World Cup soccer match a couple months ago, Germany vs. Brazil. I remember finding a spot near the TV at Ludwig’s Garten, the Bavarian beer house on Sansom Street. The place was packed tight with guys in lederhosen eating knockwurst. You’d figure the place would be in unanimous support of the Germans.

Damned if half the crowd wasn’t pulling for Ronaldo and the Brazilians.

There is, however, one issue that unites every single human being who ever downed a drop of dew in Pennsylvania. Age, religion, sex or political affiliation, it doesn’t matter. We are all in agreement on one thing:

State Stores suck.

High prices, lousy selection and clerks with the customer-service skills of a near-sighted proctologist. I know, I know, the State Store system is designed to curtail alcohol consumption, not enhance the enjoyment. But if a candidate for governor campaigns on the promise of abolishing State Stores, you’d figure he or she would win in a walk.

Funny thing, that’s exactly what Republican Mike Fisher is promising. He’d sell the State Stores to private industry, to finance public education.

Funnier thing, still: It doesn’t look like the issue will carry him to Harrisburg.

On an autumn afternoon of bar-hopping across town, I couldn’t find a single drinker who’d vote for Fisher. They all hate State Stores, for certain. But Fisher? No way.

“I think State Stores are terrible,” said Roland Sotello, who lives in Northern Liberties. He was sucking down pints at his neighborhood’s Standard Tap with a pal from Lancaster, Jim Jeffries.

“Every other state, you can go to the grocery store seven days a week and buy a bottle of wine. ” Sotello said. “Not here. ”

“I say sell ’em. ”

Jeffries leaned in.

“I agree with Roland. The system would automatically improve. Plus, the state will tax liquor sales if it’s privatized, so it still makes its money. ”

So, who ya voting for?

“Rendell,” said Sotello.

“Me, I’m an Independent,” said Jeffries. “I lean toward Republican. But I think Fisher is a whacko. ”

It was that way across town. Everyone agrees, the State Stores are the enemy of the drinking man. But the candidate who would sell them off can’t expect the drinking man’s vote.

At Buffalo Billiards, a new pool hall/tap room in Old City, Larry Giglio was chowing down on a cheesesteak and fries at the bar. My questions about the State Store system almost made him choke.

“You go to a State Store, you can’t find what you want on the shelf,” Giglio said. “They’re not competitive in price. They’re closed on Sundays. What else? Yeah, you can’t buy wine and beer in the same store. ”

“It’s just a hassle,” he said. “Life should be easier. ”

Would he vote for the one candidate who promises to make it easier?

“I like the idea a lot,” Giglio said. “But I’m not saying I’m for Fisher. I’ll probably go for Rendell. ”

At Ludwig’s Garten, Game 6 of the World Series was on the tube. Half the crowd was pulling for the Giants, the others were grumbling about Barry Bonds.

Jack R. Hilliard, of Mount Airy, was sucking down a glass of Schneider Aventinus, an almost chocolaty brown brew.

“Sell the State Stores!” he pronounced. “If private enterprise is willing to do the job, government shouldn’t be in the business of purveying booze. ”

What’s got Hilliard ticked is the State Stores apparently no longer carry his favorite single-malt Scotch whisky, Cragganmore.

I mention Fisher’s stance, and he grunts.

“Look, you want someone in office who will get out of private enterprise, you vote for Krawchuk. ”

Ken Krawchuk, Libertarian candidate for governor. Of course, the guy doesn’t have a chance.

“That’s what everyone says – the third party candidate never wins,” said Hilliard. “That’s because no one has the b—- to vote for them.

“Well, I’m tired of being scared into a corner. ”

And tired, like all us sippers, of State Stores.

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JACK DANIEL’S is coming to town Monday in search of America’s best tailgate party. Which, given the pre-game scene outside the Vet, is like trying to find a clean towel at an orgy.

It could get a little messy.

Wandering through the parking lots before kickoff – especially on a Monday night, when fans have a good 72 hours to get liquored up – is reminiscent of the Do Lung bridge scene in “Apocalypse Now.” It’s mass confusion, a sea of green-painted aborigines toked up on alcohol and testosterone. And, yes, some of them have live ammunition.

At its best, it’s pure Philly. At its worst, it’s pure Marcus Hook.

OK, low blow. But I am concerned about the well-being of the crew from Lynchburg, Tenn., trying to single out the best group of tailgaters among the pros on the Jetro lot. What is the criteria? Most sour mash consumed?

John Barrett, the distillery’s official “whiskey professor,” says he’ll be looking for groups that exhibit “creativity, team spirit and food-and-drink preparation, especially using Jack Daniel’s whiskey with food.”

The distillery picks a winner in each NFL city, and the two conference winners get to go to the Super Bowl with their teams.

I find it strange that a whiskey company is sponsoring this contest for two reasons:

Technically, public alcohol consumption is illegal in Philadelphia. Of course, official malfeasance at PGW notwithstanding, that’s the most overlooked law in town. (Reminder: To avoid arrest or embarrassing bottle confiscation, keep your booze in an unmarked cup.) And Barrett assures us that Jack is perfectly good in food recipes. “It’s almost vanilla in character,” he says.

But more to the point, tailgating isn’t really a hard liquor event. Whiskey at football games is for the flask, to be smuggled into the stadium.

Outside, in the parking lot, the appropriate beverage is beer.

Flowing from a keg or cracked open from a sixpack, beer is the NFL’s official lubricant of pre-game festivities. Under the shadow of Joe Brown’s giant football sculptures, I’ve drained Pottsville’s Yuengling from a can and sipped Belgium’s Chimay from a goblet. And – between the inevitable group cheers of “E-A-G-L-E-S!” – they both tasted fine.

Beer goes perfectly with almost anything on the grill, or just a bag of chips.

And it is a beverage of moderation, which goes a long way toward setting the proper team spirit.

No preaching here, friends. But drunkenness just ruins a good time for everyone else.

That said, I turned to Russ Stephenson, aka Tailgate Russ, for further advice on this matter.

The man’s credentials as the undisputed king of asphalt cuisine were certified earlier this season when the city Department of Licenses and Inspections blocked his attempts to host a 1,000-guest tailgate party in the Vet parking lot.

Known for lavish affairs that include couches, wide-screen TVs, masseuses and plenty of kegs o’ beer, Russ says there are five basic elements of a successful tailgater:

1. Clear skies. “If you’ve got terrible weather, it throws a monkey wrench into all your plans,” he says. There’s nothing worse than drinking out of a soggy cup. That’s why this Monday night (forecast: possible showers), he’s headed to the protection of I-95, where the elevated highway behind the F.U. Center offers ample dry space.
2. Good people. “You want folks who are into having a good time,” says Russ. “There’s an old saying, ‘In the parking lot, we’re all on the same team.’ “
3. Guests who contribute. “And I don’t mean just having people kick in 10 or 15 bucks,” he says. When guests have a stake in the party – an appetizer, a folding table – they feel they’re a welcome addition. Here’s a suggestion: Everyone brings a favorite six-pack – something brewed within 50 miles of Philly.
4. Music. “That’s the key to any party,” says Russ. A live band, DJ, boom box – it doesn’t matter.
5. Food. Keep it simple, says Russ. “I’ve got 4 basics: U-15 shrimp [the big boys] brushed with barbecue sauce; boneless chicken breast marinated overnight in Wishbone Italian dressing; beef fillet marinated in Jamaican jerk season and pork tenderloins soaked in Goya’s Mojo Criollo, a lemony herb marinade.

“Tie some fresh rosemary around the tenderloin,” says Russ. “It looks like you’re grilling weed, which leads to a lot of stories around the fire.

“When you pull it off the grill, cut it all into bite-size pieces, so you can eat it with your fingers. Don’t worry what the girls say.”

As for beer, Russ brings along a cooler of Bass and Guinness to make his own black-and-tan.

“I love the microbrews,” he says. “But what I’ve found is the masses like their Coors Light and Bud.”

In any case, figure on 35 people per keg.

And one other thing: Beat the Giants!

 Beer radar

Now that cops apparently have the Beltway sniper(s), on a completely lighter note, it may be time for them to start looking for the serial suds-swipers. In a trend that is sweeping Dixie, young suspects run into takeout shops, grab a six-pack, then flee while shouting, “Yahoo!” Stores from Augusta, Ga., to Austin, Texas, have reported thefts…

Thanks to the DN’s ink-stained Dan Wiggs for alerting me that the University of Northern Colorado Fightin’ Whites intramural basketball team now has an official brew. The team, whose name is a swipe at sports teams that use Indian nicknames (e.g. Braves, Redskins), toasts its victories with Fightin White Wheat from Smiling Moose Brew Pub & Grill in Greeley, Colo.

New on area shelves: Samuel Adams Winter Classics 12-pack, with Old Fezziwig and Cranberry Lambic. Also, Victory V-10, a Belgian-style dubbel in 25-ounce bottles, Dogfish Head Punkin Ale, Sierra Nevada Harvest Ale and (already?) SN Celebration Ale.

Look also for Samuel Smith’s Winter Welcome, whose label this year commemorates Queen Elizabeth’s 50th year on the thrown, with a crown floating above a foamy pint of ale.

 Calendar

Tomorrow – Gemini Dance Projex fund-raiser at Yards Brewing (2439 Amber St., Kensington), features food, DJ, dance performances and beer. Not sure what to think about this one: It’s either Michael Flatley tipsy on Love Stout or Danny & the Juniors’ “Let’s go to the Hops.” Time: 7 p.m.-midnight. Tix: $25. Info: 856-310-9250.

Oct. 31 – Halloween costume party at Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant (3 W. Gay St., West Chester). Prizes for best costumes and $2 pints of fresh beer. Time: 9 p.m. Info: 610-748-9600.

Nov. 1-2 – Semi-annual Valley Forge Brewery Collectibles Show at Kimberland Fairground Pavilion. Spend your kid’s college tuition fund on empty, rusting cans. Or pick up that antique opener for your wife’s birthday. Afterward, celebrate bargains and concoct explanations at Sly Fox Brewing at nearby Pikeland Village Square. Times: 2-9 p.m. Friday, 9 a.m.-2 p.m. Saturday. Tix: $5. Info: 610-439-8245.

Nov. 2 – American Homebrewers Association’s 4th Annual Teach a Friend to Homebrew Day. Beware of dreaded hop boil-overs.

Nov. 2 – Weyerbacher Brewing grand re-opening. The Lehigh Valley craft brewery moved up the road into a bigger facility. Tours, tutored tastings and fresh jugs of draft at 905-G Line St., Easton. Time: Noon-4 p.m. Tix: Free. Info: 610-559-5561.

Nov. 2 – Open house at Heavyweight Brewing. Get a taste of the Joisey brewery ‘s 2002 version of Old Salty Barleywine, a 10.3 percenter sitting in the tanks since last April. Hours: 1-4 p.m. Tix: Free. Info and directions: 732-493-5009.

Nov. 8-9 – Planet Buzz mead-tasting. Book an E-Savers flight to Chicago for a weekend of honey dipping. Mead – and ciders – are the feature of this first-ever commercial mead competition hosted by Redstone Meadery at the Second City’s Black Orchid Showcase and Lounge. Info: 800-229-1832. Tix: $19, $24 at door.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Stewart’s Old Percolator Coffee Porter.

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JOHNSTOWN, PA – It is the morning-after at the Coney Island luncheonette, an institution here since 1916.

Just 11 a.m., and the reg’lars are already piling their paper plates with all-beef hot dogs doused with chili.

Me? Well, after last night, I’m sipping on a cup of joe. The late hours in this town’s odd mix of bars, talking about the governor’s race in the hinterlands, have my head spinning.

Downtown, in an old-man’s tap room where they have to dig deep in the cooler to find a Yuengling, there was the old guy who liked Conway Twitty and swore Ed Rendell is a communist.

And, just like Mr. Michael Fisher alleges in his ads, Billy G. pronounces, “Rendell’s just another tax-and-spend Dem-oh-crat. ”

“Not,” his wife, who’s playing a video game, says over her shoulder, “that Fisher is all that much to talk ’bout. ”

“Hell, just as long as they don’t try to take my huntin’ rifle,” Billy G. sighs.

On the other side of the Conemaugh River, along a strip of bars that would have been at home in Villanova, the music was from the FM side of the dial, and the locals are just as suspicious.

“Rendell, Fisher, don’t matter who,” says a 40-something guy named Clarence, raising his voice to be heard over a whiny duet’s version of “Moondance. ”

“I personally think Rendell will win, but you know how it is: Once he’s in office, he’ll screw us all. ”

And so it is the morning-after at Coney Island, and I’m wrestling with the troublesome conclusion that here, in the wooded Laurel Highlands, I’ve stumbled onto a cell of Pennsylvania anarchists.

It’s confirmed when I listen in on the conversation two booths over, where Bob Stramanak, and his pals, A.J. and Mitch, are griping about their pensions.

The three are retired from area school districts.

They’re all going to vote for Rendell, but not because of any of his more notable promises about property tax reform, education or jobs.

They’re backing him because the former Philly mayor once said the cuts in their pensions were “wrong. ”

“Fisher, he couldn’t say what he would do,” says Mitch.

“At least Rendell said he’d look into it. ”

“The problem,” says A.J., “is they send up their smoke-screens. Then, when they get into office, it’s ‘Fung-gool. ‘ ”

Stramanak nods. He’s wearing a baseball cap with a pin that says, “Vote for Mark Parker, State Representative. ”

“Is he the Democrat? ” I ask.

“No, Republican,” Stramanak says. “The incumbent is a Democrat. I don’t know how he got elected. Six years in office, and the only thing he’s done is rename four bridges and proposed the polka as the official state song. ”

“Yeah, and he increased his own pension by 50 percent,” adds Mitch.

“So, you’re not worried about voting for a Democrat from Philly? ” I wonder.

“Yeah, we’re suspicious,” says Mitch.

If not anarchy, the notion that powerful outsiders are not to be trusted is as firmly embedded as the coal in the nearby hills.

This town still blames Andrew Carnegie and his fat-cat fishing buddies for the great Johnstown Flood of 1889. The Pittsburgh industrialist was a member of the infamous South Fork Fishing & Hunting Club, whose failure to maintain an earthen dam at Lake Conemaugh led to a disaster that cost more than 2,000 lives.

The irony is they rebuilt the town and went right back to work for Carnegie and the rest of those robber barons.

But now those jobs are gone. The steel mills are closed, and there are few jobs at the remaining mines. The biggest employer, one local wag told me, is Manpower, the temp agency.

When you walk down Main Street, the depth of unemployment is unmistakable. Half the storefronts are empty, the rest are a mix of social agencies and cheesy franchises. My personal favorite is the one opening across the street from the Holiday Inn, that promises, “For All Your Nascar Needs. ”

The words of Larry Morris, a businessman I met the night before in the Boulevard Grill, underscore the emptiness.

“All the young people are leaving town,” said Morris. “The ones who are still here think the steel mills are coming back. It’s not going to happen. ”

Few jobs, no hope, and a suspicious eye toward Harrisburg.

I drain my cup. The sign above Coney Island’s spartan Formica counter had promised me “delicious coffee. ”

Damned if it ain’t.

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IN a year when those sticky, sweet pseudo-beers known as malternatives swamped the market like a swarm of West Nile-infested mosquitoes, this year’s Great American Beer Festival was shaping up like a case of the Rocky Mountain Plague.

Skyy Blue, Mike’s Hard Lemonade, Smirnoff Ice – whatever,

they’re alcohol-delivery systems for the Pepsi Generation, sugary booze substitutes for kiddies who don’t like the taste of real beer.

Tastewise, malternatives are to lager and ale what Kenny G is to music. But because they’re ostensibly brewed with malt, they are widely classified as some mutant form of beer.

Thus, they’re crowding out the real stuff at your friendly neighborhood takeout shop.

And, equally troublesome, they’ve been showing up at beer festivals.

Last spring, hundreds of brew freaks listened to beer hunter Michael Jackson rail against malternatives at his annual The Book and the Cook tutored tasting at the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania – only to be assaulted 10 minutes later by a cooler full of saccharine samples from Miller Brewing. Irony, of course, is well beyond the grasp of corporate pimps, but I’d have imagined they’d be at least ashamed to pour glasses of their chemically enhanced dreck in the company of so many beer aficionados.

It was with dread, then, that I stepped onto the Colorado Convention Center floor last weekend, to face 300 brewers offering samples of 1,200 beers. Pale ales, stouts and hefeweizens I could handle; what worried me was the idea of actually trying to stomach a mouthful of Jack Daniel’s Original Hard Cola.

Though this festival, now in its 21st year, has traditionally celebrated the diversity of America’s small craft-brewers, the heavyweights – Miller, Anheuser-Busch, Coors – have crashed the party, as well. (Indeed, Bud is one of the official sponsors.)

The big rigs, not surprisingly, muck up the joint with their roadkill.

Over the years, they’ve defiled the festival with dry beer, infected it with ice beer, and inflicted attendees with non-alcoholic beer.

The trends have come and gone, and now, I feared, malternatives would pollute the festival.

Surprisingly, though, the sweet stuff was largely AWOL. Other than Zima, from Coors, and Bacardi Silver, from A-B, no others were to be found.

Naturally, I sank my claws into the A-B rep who was pouring B.S.

Me: Why the hell are you serving this crap?

Him: Flavored alcoholic beverages are the fastest growing segment in the industry right now.

Me: Is anybody here actually swallowing this stuff?

Him: We look at it as an excellent sampling opportunity because the festival attracts our target market, the 21- to 27-year-old adult consumer, especially females.

He went on to blather about “taste profiles” and “branding” – hooey that had me looking for a nice, strong ale to cleanse the palate and numb the nerves.

Instead, I found Charlie Papazian, the affable founder of the festival and president of the Association of Brewers.

Papazian seemed relieved that more of the malternatives hadn’t appeared.

“I don’t think most brewers are appreciative of them,” he said. “Maybe they didn’t have the nerve to show up.”

Or maybe the Association of Brewing’s judging guidelines tripped them up. This year’s festival included an experimental category for “flavored malt-fermented beverages” that would have seemingly welcomed the likes of hard lemonade and other malternatives.

But Papazian stressed that the beverages must derive 100 percent of their alcohol from malt fermentation – not distilled spirits.

As I reported earlier this year, it turns out that almost all the alcohol in malternatives is from spirits, splashed into the bottle under the guise of flavoring (think vanilla extract). Far from being the product of the fine art of brewing, malternatives are processed in factories with artificial ingredients and chemicals. They are devoid of any complex taste. They are designed entirely to deliver alcohol to the bloodstream as painlessly as possible.

That’s why I call them pseudo-beers.

A-B and Coors were permitted to pour their malternatives at the festival, but the sweet booze was banned from the medals competition. (A Berliner-Weisse from Southampton Publick House on Long Island, N.Y., won the experimental category this year.)

Papazian said their absence at the festival might be an indication of a downward trend in malternative sales.

I hope so.

 We’ve got winners

The happiest guy at the festival had to be Brandon Greenwood, the perennially growling brewer at Nodding Head (1516 Samson St., Center City). On Saturday afternoon, Greenwood was wearing a gold medal for his Grog (English-style brown ale) and bronze for BoHo Pilsner.

“We couldn’t ask for anything more,” Greenwood said, cracking what witnesses confirmed to be a faint smile. But then he regained his composure and grumbled with tongue in cheek, “But what about our Berliner Weisse?”

That one finished out of medal competition.

Nodding Head partner Curt Decker chided his cantankerous brewer, advising, “For the record, we still object to the entire judging process.”

 Other local medalists:

* Iron Hill (West Chester) Tripel (Belgian-style abbey ale), bronze.

* Iron Hill (Media) Pig Iron Porter (robust porter), bronze.

* Sly Fox (Phoenixville) French Creek Helles (Munchner-style Helles), bronze.

* John Harvard (Springfield) Schwarzbier (German-Style Schwarzbier), bronze.

 Beer radar

Cuvee Notredame is closed. The Belgian beer restaurant at 17th and Green streets might re-open, but co-owner Michel Notredame is outta here…Eulogy, a new Belgian bar at 136 Chestnut St., Old City, looks close to opening. It boasts 100 Belgian bottles…Down the block, Buffalo Billiards, 116 Chestnut St., opened last night. Decent beer selection and 9-ball till 2 a.m… .

J.P. MacGrady’s, a new mega-tap, opened last month on Bethlehem’s south side. I counted about 40 spigots, including out-of-towners Hofbrauhaus Oktoberfest, La Chouffe and Red Seal Ale…The Pottstown Mercury reports Henry Ortlieb, of Philadelphia brewing fame, is back on the scene, at Sunnybrook Brewpub in Pottstown. Ortlieb’s last brewpub, Poor Henry Brewery & Restaurant in Northern Liberties, was a spectacular failure…

New on area shelves: Victory Golden Monkey, in corked 25-ounce bottles, Bert Grant’s Fresh Hop Ale, Kronenbourg 1664, Troegs Oatmeal Stout and Flying Fish Oktoberfish.

 Calendar

Tomorrow: Real Ale Rendezvous, Independence Brew Pub (Filbert Street, Reading Terminal). Over the past eight years, this Beer Philadelphia event has featured some of tastiest cask-conditioned ales in the world. This year’s headliner: Dogfish Head Old School Barleywine, the world’s strongest cask-conditioned ale (15.5 percent alcohol), refermented with figs and dates. These brews are not carbonated, and they’re not freezing cold. It’s real ale with a host of complex flavors. In other words, no cask-conditioned Bacardi Silver. Times: 1-5 p.m. Tix: $25. Info: 215-922-4292.

Oct. 18 – Brewers’ Reserve Night, Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant (3 W. Gay St., West Chester), with vintage ales. Among the featured brews: a 3-year-old barleywine and Bourbon Wee Heavy, a Scotch ale aged in a whisky barrel.

Oct. 19 – The 11th Great Eastern Invitational Microbrewery Festival, Stoudt’s Brewing, Adamstown, Pa. Times: noon to 4 p.m., 7-11 p.m. Unfortunately, this one ‘s sold out already, but you might find scalped tix near the door.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of New Belgium La Folie.

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