If we are talking apeshit customer service, Wolfs Ridge falls somewhere between “negative reinforcement” and “staggeringly attentive.” I previously bitched about their coffee cream ale, basically saying that the flavors were incongruous for such a petit canvas. So they decide “guess what? fuck your palate we added cinnamon to that beer, here enjoy this, joweltits [the letter doesn’t say that but deconstruction is about subtext and linguistic intent.]” so being a baby palate complainer nets rewards and just being honest about their clean ass wild ales being a sloppy acornpenis while playing Nier Automata, compels equal attention. There is no ethical consumption in late capitalism. Imma just keep falling down in the entryway and bruising my love handles on solid Ohio entries. The heights located in Hawthorne have instructed me under good authority that Ohio is for lovers.