The favorite beer of both hipsters* and Frank Booth, and I do not doubt there is a link between the two, sucks. It smells like corn. It tastes like watery corn, sweetly bland. It is very fizzy. When ice cold, it is completely flavorless. It clocks in at under 5% ABV, yet gave me a headache halfway through the can. Beyond the iconic logo, it has no redeeming qualities.
I understand why Frank Booth drank it. He was a psychopath, so a refined beer palate was beyond his ken, but what is the hipster attraction? Is it ironic in some way that escapes me? Do they drink Pabst because Grandpa drank it? Does drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon show solidarity with the oppressed working class peoples of the hinterlands? Why drink it? What is the attraction? Make your case.
Why? That is a serious question if you drink Pabst Blue Ribbon: Why do you drink it?
*I am adopting Beer Samizdat’s description of ‘Hipsters’ as my own:
For those not familiar with The Mission, it’s one of the two main “loci” for the much-maligned “hipster”, along with Williamsburg in Brooklyn. It’s where you’ll find handlebar mustaches, brand-new but already “worn” t-shirts with Archie on them riding up to a guy’s belly button, thousands of bikes, artisanal coffee, women with enormous sunglasses on and the perfect Zoe Deschanel bangs to go with big puffy hippie-girl dresses; and so on.
I will add a few minor details to that description: Those bikes are all fixed gear bikes, because hipsters like having an organic union between the road and their ride as they pedal; The bikes all have woven baskets hanging from the handlebars, the better to carry their dogeared copy of Tropic of Cancer to the Farmer’s Market; The artisanal coffee comes in either oversized cups or these paper cups, because those cups are ironic or some such crap; The coffee shops are filled with the clatter of manual typewriters; and the hipster guys are lacking any sort of musculature whatsoever (Has there ever been a better description than “birthday candle armed”?
Frank Booth would also fuck anything that moved. While neither here nor there, it always bears pointing out.
Quite true. Hopper’s best role by far.
When I used to kick it in Manhattan it was all the rage.
If it was the rage in Manhattan, it was already outre in Brooklyn, until it came full circle and became the rage in Brooklyn for ironic reasons
I’m just saying. Geez.
Lighten up, Francis. I was not criticizing you, I was pointing out the weirdness of the hipster mindset
My names not Francis not do I look like a Francis, Dorthy. And you were too and it’s because I won’t let you make the sex on me.
It is a stripes reference, and I really was not being critical. You are full of piss and vinegar tonight
No way dude.
What are you disagreeing with?
You have cocaine eyes.
Huh?
Ultimately this comes down to the hipster thing of see/be seen, that it became cool to be seen drinking PBR whilst eating a sloppy cheeseburger. It made suburban henpecked boyfriends and husbands just a little less henpecked and made the hens feel a little dirty, a little sinful. As always, doing something for the see/be seen virtue makes it, whatever it is, horrible, and so there are two levels of horror here – the beer itself and the fad. PBR must die for both reasons!
we are talking Colonel Kurtz levels of horror here
I’m telling you right now you nasally hipsters of the corn; you gentrifying pieces of shit: …. PAY CLOSE FUCKING ATTENTION and STOP “pioneering and exploring” and ruining still-normal Brooklyn for us bland/cultureless/non-whimsical native people.
http://diehipster.wordpress.com/2012/08/13/mother-fuckers-stay-away/
One of your best. We are suffering from an invasion of hipsters here in Oz as well. One just hopped on the bus that I’m on. Irritating. I’ll be following diehipster.com
I drank Pabst Blue Ribbon in China recently. It was cheap – 60 cents for a pint can. It also felt nostalgic. My dad collected cans when we lived in the US in ’75. The Pabst can was a stand out along with Rolling Rock (the tin version) and Colt 45(?).
Thanks, I appreciate the compliment.
I am sorry to hear about the invasion of hipsters to Australia, not just for the annoyance they cause you (which I totally understand and share), but also because knowing that the hipster scourge has reached you further chips away at my illusions abut Australia. For my generation of Americans, Australia fills a fantasy role that California filled for an earlier generation of Americans: It is an eternally sunkissed place filled with statuesque athletic blondes (I always imagine bustier versions of Nicole Kidman and/or tanner and taller versions of Naomi Watts), where the beer flows freely, the fish is fresh, the water is always warm, the beaches crowded but not too much, and the wild adventurous lands are not far away. I know full well that this dream state is not the case, not even close, but part of me wants to believe it, and knowing that some doofus with an overgrown beard, an ironic t-shirt, and whatever the Aussie equivalent of Chuck Taylors are is riding the bus with you makes that harder to pull off.
Pabst is cheap. That 24 oz can in the photo cost $1.25, so that is one reason to drink it, but if the hipsters can afford rent in Brooklyn, they can afford decent beer.
Colt 45 had the best TV commercials when I was a kid. Colt 45 had a higher alcohol content than most beers, and the commercials flat out stated that it would ger you drunk. Billy Dee Williams was their spokesman, and his tagline was “Gets you where you want to go, FAST” I need to dig some of those up on youtube.
Die Hipster is brilliant. I just stumbled upon it recently, but it is going on the blogroll.
It at least scores points for being “established” as opposed to brewed in….
[...] than when he featured Back of the Ferry in a recent post. Anyone that can wind Frank Booth into a beer review deserves kudos. Tilting’s been off the air for a little while. Hopefully he’s just [...]
Inspiring quest there. What occurred after?
Thanks!