Everyone has met a wise man, an adventurer, a storied lover, legendary fighter, or a personality of the ultimate suave. These are the heroes blessed with intelligence, looks, virility, charm, or an almost tangible charisma. Hans Götman (pronounced GOAT-min) is a rare and enviable combination of all these things. He is the inspiration for ScapeGoat Ink.

Hans has lived life to an extent beyond imagining. He has learned, loved, and lost, and done it all over again. Hans is a man’s man, so far beyond cliché that it requires as much cliché as possible to even begin to convey his aura and influence.

Hans has traveled to all seven continents for research and adventure alike. He has feasted with natives in unmapped islands, hunted in the deepest rainforests, sailed the wildest seas, and fished in the most remote inlets of the world. He is blood brother and honorary member to more tribes and exotic royalty than we could list in an evening.

Hans is a fount of masculinity. He has compelled the most beautiful women to sleep with him without a word. That is, until the next day, when he would call them—a true gentleman he is—to invite them to sleep with him again.

Hans has fought and bested the strongest men. He has ridden every animal that can be broken, and some that can’t be. He’s loved women of breathtaking beauty. He has been to places we’ve never heard of and tasted things that never existed.

In truth, Hans is the authority on alcohol and adventure, and we are junkies for both. Like my brother and me, his tales of adventure were constantly forthcoming, and unlike my brother and me, his were all true.

But the man is no mere adrenaline junky. He knows classic literature and can recite some by rote. He is a logician, chemist, philosopher, and poet. He is a sailor, wrangler, hunter, soldier, a historian, and an inventor. And he could beat you in every kind of drinking contest imaginable.

Friends and neighbors, Hans drinks not for the drunkenness, but for the journey of the drink. He glories in the tastes and aromas, the subtle loosening of muscles and reflexes, the slow strengthening of bravado, and the growing affection for mankind that swirls up from your soul to the surface of the skin. An independent traveling man, Hans has made contacts the world over—men that would do him any favor for the honor of calling him “friend.” We, the creators of ScapeGoat Ink have that honor. And this company and its goals are homage to Hans.

My brother and I met Hans one night some years back after having been tossed out of a bar in Galway for picking a fight with a local and friend of the establishment. Forcefully ejected, we stumbled quite literally into Hans, then only a passing stranger. Soured by booze and eager to fight, we focused our venom on him.

My brother offered a fist of apology to this strange gentleman while I vomited on his shoes. Hans responded to each of us in turn. He plowed fists like calcified hammers into our slack faces and dropped us both to the bricks in quick succession. We always considered ourselves eager, if not formidable brawlers, especially when a fight is likely to end with fresh bruises, new friends, and another round of drinks. This was not one of those fights. We were bested hardly before it began.

Shocked, dizzy, and completely at a loss as to what just happened, we looked up to see Hans standing over us. There, haloed by a streetlamp, he offered me a hand up. His grip was a bone vice. For the first time in a long time, both my brother and I were speechless. There is an instant reverence afforded a man who can knock you down so quickly. Our awe was furthered by the realization of his age, so evident then in the glare of the streetlight. He had to be more than 30 years our senior. This was Hans Götman, and we soon learned he commanded such respect of everyone he met.

What we didn’t know was that Hans had reached a low point. His life was always about the journey, and he had found the journey less than interesting of late. His world of adventure had grown smaller and a deep loneliness had crept up on him. It had been too long since Hans had found fellow travelers of his caliber that truly enjoyed the adventure of life, and he had begun to view himself as something of a relic. He had sunk into a depression at the state of the world. The journey was less exciting, and Hans had discovered that the world was full of too many bad drunks without a sense of adventurer.

In his own words, “Wit and ignorance can intermingle when the mind dances with alcohol, so tread carefully my friends. “

We were, by no means, men of his stature, but he had run out of options, and he chose to lean on fate that night, like a crutch. So he took us under his wing.

“The name’s Hans Götman,” he said. “Come on.” And he turned away, knowing we’d follow. So we did. And we have ever since.

Keep an eye out for our “Ask Hans Götman” page…coming soon!