A note from Professor Good Ales: Because of content this post has also been posted elsewhere at LTS.
Written by Ye Olde Scribe
(Scribe is simply providing a convenient pun and admits to having never tasted Duff, which apparently is a real product inspired by the fictional Duff. But he does dedicate this column to Duffman style politics being practiced in the White House on the day this was posted.)
Scribe longs for an Arrogant Bastard President. No, not Saint Junior, may he rest in peace.
Not dead yet?
After choking on a pretzel and the transportation device accident, Scribe is surprised. Well… enough of that SEGWAY.
No, Scribe is referring to an actual beer made by Stone Brewing.
Yes, it also serves as a metaphor. Which is better than a gaggle of gagging girls wearing ugly pinafores, but not quite as classy as an H.M.S. Pinafore’.
Anywhosiefloosiewhatsis, gosh by Golly, Mr. Gilbert and Sullied Van… (Scribe owned a sullied van of those once… all painted up in the classic artsy style, but cleaned the art off it before he sold it to some maurading mariachi band musicians. But they had trouble making the VAN… GOGH.) …this substantial brew does a decent job of burning to pleasantly tingling the tastebuds; as do many full flavored micros these days.
Scribe longs for a President with similar strong character; firm, resolute… who won’t compromise so easily. Bold. Brave. A President with enough actual audacity, fortitude and final gravity to actual order a decent beer while trying to make peace between the good Skipper “I arrest people in their homes for speaking their minds” Officer Crowley and the Professor.
What is this, some strange version of Gilligan’s Island?
He ordered Bud Lite? Well, at least it’s not Mich Ultra, the only beverage, if one dares call it, where the infused bubbles are embarrased to be in a liquid with less taste than water.
His beer buds don’t have any more class…
Red Stripe? Hey, just what we need, something that partially attempts to clone the bad bland brews the biggies have offered for many a decade.
Blue Moon?
Well, at least it’s an attempt, though a rotten one to the COORS.
So two guys might make peace by hiding behind mediocre’ fizz?
Scribe predicts a whole lot of nada out of this meeting. And he’s NOT just referring to THE BEER.
Until the next STUPID, over blown by the press, racial incident, this is your faithful servant who salivates for REAL BEER…
Ye Olde Scribe