Shite and Onions: Pabst Blue Fuckin’ Ribbon

August 15, 2012

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”?


Shite and Onions: Bud Light Lime-A-Rita

August 8, 2012

I have been drinking beer for over thirty years now. As you know from even the most casual stroll through this blog, I drink all kinds of beer. Before I drank beer, I drank sodas, fruit juices, milk shakes, chocolate milk, strawberry milk, whole milk, low-fat milk, skim milk. I drink water, both bottled and tap, still and sparkling. As a kid, I drank Kool-Aid. I drink coffee almost every day, tea occasionally (both hot and iced). I have had my fair share of wine and cocktails over the years, with both top shelf stuff and the rotgut they put in the well. I have consumed liquids of all kinds, both fermented and non-fermented, distilled and non-distilled, sweet and savory. I cannot say I have liked them all, although my palate has become more refined as I have aged. My point is that I have tasted a wide array of drinks.

Absolutely Fucking Disgusting

In a lifetime of consuming drinks of various kinds, this is by far the most foul tasting liquid I have ever tasted.  The only way to describe the Bud Light Lime-A-Rita is that it tastes like a fizzy Gatorade, with salt, lime, and alcohol added, and then that vile mixture is strained through a sweaty ballcap. There is a whiff of uric acid too, and I really do not want to think about how that got in to the mix. While I can describe the mix of flavors and odors, I lack the words to describe how truly awful this tastes. I had it ice cold, and served it to myself in a frosty mug, and it still made me gag.

I don’t know who is drinking this shit. I imagine the target market is guys with mullets and cut off tees, and maybe sorority girls at the second tier sate universities scattered across the south, but that is just a guess.

The sad thing is that Anheuser-Busch probably moves mores units of this crap in a month than most craft brewers move in a year. I weep for my country.


Shite and Onions: Miller High Life

July 4, 2012

I hate lousy beer, but god damn it, I LOVE AMERICA!

USA! USA! USA!

You package your product in the Red, White, and Blue, and I will pony up the cash to buy it. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, “Yo, Everything tastes better when the label is patriotic. Word!

Out of all the shitty beers I have been drinking, Miller High Life is the best of the sorry lot. Not saying it is good, because it is not, but it has the most beer like flavor out of any them, and in a world of thin watery beers, this has some body to it. All that in a quart can decorated all patriotic and shit, and I got change back from two bucks when I bought it. Hard to beat that deal.

This is why George Washington was crucified, so that we could pop open a Red, White, and Blue quart of the High Life, pour a little out for our dead homies (JFK, MLK, and Anna Nicole Smith for starters), set off some fireworks, grill some weenies, scream obscenities at our neighbors, and get soused. Do it for George. Do it for Grover Cleveland. Do it for America.

Reagan riding a Velociraptor while firing a Machine Gun. If you don't love this, go swim to Cuba!

America. If you don’t love it, why don’t you just move to Russia?


Shite and Onions: Miller Lite

June 21, 2012

I am not one of those guys who thinks the American Male is under attack these days. I am perfectly comfortable opening doors for women, being in touch with my feminine side, being manly yet metrosexual, playing with my inner child, all that crap, and if that is not appreciated, I can deal with it. All in all, we have a sweet deal here, and any guy who does not think so either has a lousy personal situation or is deluded.

Only the Manliest of Manly Men can withstand the brute force that is Miller Fucking Lite

The one area where we are under attack is in beer commercials, and the most egregious offfender in this regard is Miller Lite. Miller Lite is held up as the exemplar of American Maleness, the beer that the wusses will graduate to once they stop wearing skinny jeans, the beer that if you order it will get the attention of the smoking hot bartender, the beer you knock back after a tough six innings of slow pitch softball, the beer that all the young dudes are drinking, and all I can ask is has anyone actually tried any of this piss water?

No flavor whatsoever, despite the claim that it is TRIPLE HOPPED!!! (Pro-Tip: Most, if not all, beers are triple hopped), no color, no aroma. Nothing to this beer, other than carbonation.

Actually, that is unduly harsh. They do have the vortex bottles, the punch top on their cans, and I am sure I am missing some other gimmicky bullshit that impresses the rubes, but ask yourself: If the beer was any good at all, would they need any of that crap? Have you ever seen a decent beer with a vortex bottle? And what exactly is the punch top supposed to do?

On the other hand, this commercial is brilliant:


Shite and Onions: Stella Artois

June 4, 2012

Stella Artois is a crappy French Belgian beer* that is marketed to Americans as a sophisticated and upscale brew. Make no mistake here, this stuff sucks ass. It has a soapy and metallic flavor that is slightly sweet and yet also somehow bland. It pours a clear piss-yellow with a fizzy head that disappears quickly, and this beer so lacking in flavor that I would not even use it for cooking purposes, just a total waste of water, barley, hops and yeast. The sad thing is that I see so many people drinking it and you just know they think they are the height of sophistication with this swill in their hand, probably in the mistaken belief that it is brewed by robed monks, who chant Te Deums, in a monastery that looks like the set of The Name of the Rose.

Why would anyone drink this shit?

*Stella Artois is brewed in Belgium, not France as I originally wrote. And as Bladdamasta of the awesome Australian beer blog Back of the Ferry notes in the comments, it is brewed by Fosters under contract in Australia, so the stuff available in the USA might well be brewed in Downtown Fucking Passaic for all I know or care.

It still sucks.


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