No excuses. Be somewhere Sept. 30 to toast the life and work of Michael Jackson. Make a donation to the National Parkinson Foundation.

The Beer Hunter website has all the information. If your local pub doesn’t have plans, doesn’t know about it then get involved and get a pub involved. The site has posters, information about donating to NPF and more. Got a website? A blog? Grab one of the banners (like this one) and help promote this toast.

I don’t have to tell you why, do I? If so I refer you to the links at The Beer Hunter or Jay Brooks’ well-kept list.

And then two posts you might have missed I think you shouldn’t. Maggie Dutton – whose blog, The Wine Offensive, is one of my regular reads – wrote a wonderful piece for Seattle Weekly.

She offers a different perspective and rightfully includes Charles Finkel, one of Michael’s co-conspirators. She chats with Charles, who tells her, “There’s beer before Michael Jackson and beer after Michael Jackson.”

Also give Martyn Cornell’s (The Zythophile) remembrance some time. The year was 1988 and “Jackson, even then probably the most famous beer writer on the planet, would be joining us later: he was flying in from judging at a beer festival in Finland …

“I believed we all cheered ironically, while secretly thinking: ‘What a fantastic job!’ However, when Jacko did arrive, he immediately showed how hard-working he was: taking extensive notes on every beer, photographing those bottles he hadn’t already got pictures of, while the rest of us were happy just to slurp and trough.”

Did he ever quit working?

When I realize I have a shelf with nothing but books by Michael Jackson it’s pretty obvious he didn’t. We once kidded about adding a “Where’s Michael?” map at The Beer Hunter site, figuring it would look a little like NORAD tracking Santa Claus. It made me sad, sometimes mad, when the beer drinking public just didn’t get it.

One example, from 2000 at the Great American Beer Festival. Michael had judged beers all day Wednesday, and in the evening spoke at a promotional event where he patiently posed with dozens of people for photos. He didn’t get back to his hotel until very late.

He checked his e-mail. There was important news. Samichlaus had been brewed again after a three-year hiatus. He tried to sleep, but couldn’t and was up in the middle of the night, putting together a “Notes from the road” column, firing it off to “rewrite@beerhunter.com” [please don’t try; the address is no longer active] so the scoop could be posted.

Then he put in another day of judging, arriving at the festival at 5:30 as it was opening. “Did you get my e-mail?” he asked (me).

I gulped. I hadn’t been near a computer all day.

We’d only managed to get the Internet connection in the hall working a few minutes before, but quickly collected his story, added a photo, and ran it through our database and publishing program. By the time he sat down to sign autographs the story nobody else had was on a computer screen in the booth.

More than 40 years after he first went to work for his hometown newspaper giving his readers the news first was still was mattered most.

He signed autographs more than three hours that evening, his only break coming when he did an interview for a TV film crew (above). He had no time to do what he loved, to wander around the hall and chat with brewers, always taking notes. He drank perhaps six ounces of beer the whole time, samples from when somebody would run off and retrieve beer for him.

If you ever had Michael sign an item for you, or watched him at work, you know that he’d speak several minutes with a perfect stranger. He never just dashed off a standard note and signed it “Michael Jackson.” He asked questions, just as much a reporter as when he had a notebook or tape recorder in hand. He wrote a personal message.

Not surprisingly, he was dead tired by the end of the evening and looked it. Yet he’d be up and judging the next morning and into the afternoon before rushing to another speaking event, a beer dinner and to the hall to sign books.

The next week a photo of Michael from that Thursday evening in the hall showed up via one of the beer e-mail lists I subscribe to. It was blurry (something most of us would blame on the camera or photographer). The person who sent the e-mail cleverly wrote that this is what Michael looked like “after a day of quote – work – end quote. Nice work if you can get it.”

This from from somebody who didn’t get it. You do. So be somewhere at 9 o’clock (Eastern) Sept 30. Raise your glass. Make a donation to NPF.

Monday I wrote about the new Cicerone Certification Program designed to better educate people selling and serving beer.

But what about beer drinkers? Mostly notably all those novice beer drinkers headed off for a higher education that often includes a fair amount of learning about of beer? (OK, I’ll not be totally naive and think drinking starts with college, but I like the analogy.)

Don Russell (Joe Sixpack) today writes about the Choose Responsibility started by Dr. John M. McCardell Jr., former at Middlebury College in Vermont. Beyond the fact that he advocates lowering the drinking age – ain’t gonna happen even though he is right – McCardell has another fine idea. An alcohol learner’s permit.

“Right now,” McCardell told Russell, “they receive no education in alcohol other than what their friends give them. It’s obvious that’s not working.”

Russell goes on to suggest a “standardized drinking test” and offers questions. They are amusing, but Russell also has some sound advice. Give it a read.

A tasting note you couldn’t make up:

“It’s a sweet lager, with a warm citrus flavor reminiscent of an India pale ale, but without an ale’s added gravity.”

And this tells me what?

Taken from a story about Half Acre Beer in Chicago. The headline refers to it as a “local brew” but it is made under contract at Sand Creek Brewery in Black River Falls, Wis.

Fall is in the air. The mornings are crisper, roll down your window as you pass the Fruit Basket on Fourth Street and you can smell green chiles roasting, RVs are already parked around Balloon Fiesta Park . . . and the Men’s Journal fourth annual guide to “The World’s Best Beers” is out.

All I have to say, well not all, is that the Germans and Czechs will not be pleased.

I rambled on long enough last year about “best” lists so I won’t repeat myself.

Once again you start with 25 really good beers, then get a bonus of 25 “Best Beers for Every Occasion” (with one repeated from the first list). This is meant to be fun page, with the best beer “For an All-Nighter” (North Coast Red Seal) and best “For a One-Nighter” (Ayinger Celebrator). Memo to Men’s Journal: That’s not a horse dangling from the neck of Celebrator, but a goat.

To their credit, many of the beers listed in previous years are here again (nice to know the best can still be the best). Not to their credit: They explain “How we did it,” as if we are to believe this proves that Deschutes Mirror Pond is really the third best Pale Ale, not the 1st, 9th and 103rd.

So that you too will feel compelled to spend $4.95 to buy the magazine and learn “How Carbs Are Killing You” I’m not revealing everything. Just that they picked a top five in five different categories (listed with their first choice):

Best Pale Ale – Firestone Walker Pale Ale. No. 4 Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA is called “America’s best India pale ale.” Them’s fightin’ words.

Best Stout or Porter – Deschutes The Abyss. They must feel a Bell’s [fill in the blank] Stout is a must. Expedition got bumped for the lower abv Kalamazoo to make room for two other Imperials.

Best Belgian – Saison Dupont. That’s really Belgian-style because Ommegang Three Philosophers and Russian River Damnation are both on the list.

Best Wheat – Aventinus Doppel Weizen-Bock. Looks like they are running for office and out to please every voting group. We get a weizenbock, two traditional weiss beers (though one is from Pennsylvania), a Belgian-style white (from Maine) and an American wheat.

Best Lager or Pilsner – Lagunitas Pils, followed by four more American beers. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Overall this list doesn’t contain as many pleasant surprises as last year, but I’m going tear the pages out of the magazine and keep them with me for when I’m in a pub (like to toast Michael Jackson on Sept. 30). Arguing the merits of the list will make for great conversation. Maybe we’ll start by trying to find a European lager worthy of it.