Sam Adams Utopias, $220 bottle of beer, 27% alcohol by volume, where are my shoes?

Ah, another classic top 100 gem I have got a few requests to review. Well I took this shit to the dangerzone and lived to tell about it. That’s commitment. I drink expensive shit for your amusement. ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?

Hey guize, remember when we dropped $220.00 on a bottle of beer that was 27% alcohol? Me either, what the fuck happened last night?

Sam Adams Utopias, 27% ABV, American Stong Ale

A: This looks like a copper T1000 hateful solution that is thick and viscous but coats the glass like a zerg hive. There’s an amazing brassiness to it, both color and traditional adjective aspects. No head, no lacing, which is apropos for the innuendos as well I suppose. If you dropped $220 on a bottle of beer there’s gonna be no- well you get it.

Watch out, expensive ass, strong beer that no one else will appreciate here.

S: Holy shit, this is like a deep hateful liqueur but I love it. It’s like reduced IHOP pancakes, maple, sweet brown sugar, smokiness, Honduran tears, I get a note of crushed will, but that is subjective. The entire bouquet has a deep heat to it that is pervasive but, its like a butterface, you put up with it for all the other things going on. OH SHIT A MISOGYNISTIC JOKE.

T: This brings the Heat like Miami. It has a deep caramel taste like Werther’s Original Meets Lava: A Romantic Comedy. There’s such a great toffee, then a dryness from the barrel like you are chewing a pencil dipped in bourbon, then it closes with a finale number of pure butterscotch. If this is beer, then I am on board. It’s like that Kurt Russel movie where that girl gets thrown overboard, fuck, what was that called?

I am not sure what it takes to get a beer up to 27% but I am pretty sure uranium barrels are involved.

M: It is sticky like the La Brea tar pits and just scorching. The age did not help and it just dries in a medicinal extreme way but I really like it. I would recommend it to a friend Amazon, since I know you are watching. It coats and just hits every zone and finishes fire hot like a peat whiskey but in a strangely delicious way.

D: Well I guess this all depends on if you are a wealthy 19th century industrialist. Can you afford to just stroll down to the store and drop 2 bills on a bottle of beer? If so, how do you keep your monocle from getting fogged up with all those middle class laymen taking up all your air. So no, this is not drinkable you monster. Why would you seriously need even more than 6oz of this? If you drink 6oz you just drank 4.5 bud lights, take it easy moneybags.

I am not sure what is going on here, but I am pretty sure it is bad ass. My dick doesn't have a face on it though.

Narrative: Sedwick Billingsley looked upon the court with disdain. The entire post-revolutionary society was a bore to him and traveling did little good for his Francophilic soul. Napoleon had conquered and been deposed, he sold arms to both sides and glutted himself on the business of wartime economies, and how here we sat, wealthy beyond belief but yet unapproached by anyone in the Court. His brash tone and palpable awareness of death made him an abrasive character. He constantly smelled of cognac and macaroons and declared hateful truths with ease. Mr. Billingsly was a complete asshole, but everyone sought to eventually seek his affection. He broke the fan of a fair mademoiselle simply due to the fact that he disliked the color lavender. Sure he was rich, unapproachable, and caustic, but deep down there was something that the general populace saw in him. That green light on Daisy’s dock, that anachronism in an unreliable omniscient narrator, those sweet butterscotch kisses. The nephew of Voltaire tipped his hat to Mr. Billingsley and he cast a franc at his chest so hard that it made him taste maple syrup, which was not even available then. Nabokov entered the court and then promptly exited in his time machine.

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