Jester King sing along death match has little to sing about, heavy on the death tones

I have no idea how the same brewery that made the masterpiece Grim Harvest could release this tire aisle nightmare. I have long noted that my baby palate is sensitive to smoke and my throat labias get all swollen when rauch is present. This however was instant drain lubrication. The nose is vinyl, dentists glove, latex balloon, and Djarum cloves. There’s some acidity and a waft of yuzu lemon but, let’s be clear, it’s housefire in a glass. The taste follows through on its threats and delivers intense char and the waft of a BJCP book burning. 

You know that scene in Casino where they bury Pesci and his brother in the corn field? That’s how disturbing this beer was to drink. The body is extremely clean and thin which is a saving grace so that burnt Cohiba after taste doesn’t hang around long. It’s an odd state of affairs to note that a beer’s best quality is how quickly the experience is over. Who knows, some people tip up to have a dancer step on their cubes. To be fair I only made it ~4oz into this Spartan race for my mouth before the campfire tones took over and the yawning maw of my garbage disposal sought sweet satiation. I loved gottsticklaendeder but this is some head on collision into the saison median flaming wreckage. 

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