Ok, We Get It, You Love Hops, Now Shut The Fuck Up.

March 13, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I love when people get into craft beer and walk that magical journey down the path of exploration. It is like being in 8th grade and stroking it for the first time to an episode of Lazy Town and entering a brave new world of autoeroticism. The only problem with people who just enter the beer scene are all the johnny come latelies who are fucking obsessed with hops. It is a plant, we get it, you love hop puns, you love that resinous taste. Why do us other beer drinkers have to listen to all of your verbal jism casting thick heavy ropes on our ears?

There is a cadre of these assholes in any beer community, always comparing Heady to Pliny, Dreadnaught to Hopslam, Nugget Nectar to whateverthefuck. Most of the time they aren’t even the same style of IPA, much less style of beer in the first place. Just stop it. You don’t see people into Gose always talking about Leipzig and whose is the saltiest and OMG comparing gose vintages, no it’s always the same assholes: hopheads. The next time you see these guys, start obessessing about another minor aspect of beers like water profiles, get all rock hard over alkaline profiles and mouthswish, “OMG THE MICROCARBONATION COATING FROM THE BOTTLE CONDITIONING GUYSSSS” see how they like it. I just don’t get why people choose to focus on an aromatic plant and worship the shit out of it. No gueuzeheads are scribbling acid molecules in their binders or talking about musk profile in the same way that hop obsessors do.

Go to any shitty Cafe Press shirt site for beer and there are always a ton of these hop shirt like “HOPtimum Enjoyment” “HOP TO IT!” or “Registered Sexual HOPfender” or some shit. I get it, play on a single word, very clever.

Here let me help you out, if you are that fixated on hops, here is a shirt design for you all to dream about, wear this to the next Beer Release or Tasting:

AHHH MY HOP CONE IS BUSTING WITH STICK OILSSSS BROOOOOOOOOOOO

@tiredhandsbeer Handfarm, Barrel aged 500 bottle saison releases? This website was made for this kind of shit.

March 13, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I hope YOUR hands aren’t too tired from stroking it to all these Pennsylvania walez. In today’s review we look at the inimitable Handfarm, a remix portmanteau of farmhands, aged in barrels, waxed and waiting for your touch. If you are new to this site, you might want to read up on Hop Hands before you just go into this review with some dry labias: Here is the cagematch from Saison Marathon yes I know that is a totally different beer. I am putting people up on that Tired Hands tip.

The only thing that can make an awesome saison even more betterer is barrel aging, look what it did to Arthur, took an already good beer to ART beast mode levels. Anyway, so this was a super small release and my balloon knot has been so puckered waiting to put my mouth on this so lets get to it.

God damn this beer is incredible. In the unlikely event that you missed out on the 180 bottles of Ann, please seek this out.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.20% ABV

A: No surprises out of the gate here, it looks very similar to Farmhands with a milky sort of pale straw disposition, folding its arms with microbubbles and some will of the wisp lacing regenerating for one black mana on the edges of the glass. MAGIC THE GATHERING JOKES: WE ARE DOING THEM NOW.

A beer this complex and refreshing that clocks in at 5%? They must have leveled their saison specs so hard. DPS for days.

S: Wow, this reminds me a lot of Ann on the nose with just a huge dry white grape, musk, brett C, a light sweetness like those crescent rolls that people always fight over in commercials, lemon rind, and any candle that is yellow basically (lemon, birthday cake, sunlight, whatever.)

T: This carries more of a floral aspect than I was expecting and it presents a brett c muskiness at the outset that takes me to that vintage Fantome printemps land pretty quickly. There is a ton of complexity in the grain bill, you get sweetness, a light scratchiness as though rye was up in the mix, complicated yeasty profile on the backend that reminds me of banana runts. The yellow ones everyone always be throwing away. Again, this is just incredibly refreshing and the format size and inaccessibility of this beer is almost a complete “fuck you” to anyone without a legit cellar and a Fedex account. I DONT FEEL BAD FOR THEM THEY CAN DRINK HENNEPIN AND FUCK OFF.

This beer is so good, I wish they could just deliver it to my door.

M: This is dry at the outset because of the barrel and the brett c I would wager, think Seizoen bretta land, but the yeast and complex ass malt bill comes in kicking in doors without a warrant, tagging your mouthwalls up with sweetness, biscuit notes, stick floral potted plants on the gumline. When it leaves you don’t even know where to start, someone just farmfucked your mouth but you dont even fill out a police report because you secretly liked it.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and to say that 500ml is not enough is like dropping my monocle in a glass of 1995 Chateau Margoux and complaining about the dry cleaning bill. Most people will never have this, but this review site is not for most people. Chances are, if you are here you already lost most of your regular friends to the beer game. This site is for fucking lifers, guys with beer shivs tucked under their shitty ikea beds. If you want an incredibly refreshing saison, seek this out. It is both complex and restrained at the same time. It was gone before it even arrived.

Taking barrel aged saisons and comparing them is an art not a science

Narrative: Chester Wakely was an average rabbit by any onlooker’s standards. Pronounced bicupsinds, whiskers, nimble, and soft to the touch. He spent his days in a gentle repose amongst the willows and sagebrush, basking in the floral decadence of the springtime sun. Deep down Chester knew that something was different about him. There was a longing complexity to his character that transcended the run of the mill “avoiding predators” and “mating.” Chester would often look across the hills to the Perkinson Vineyard and wonder about those pale yellow grapes lingering on the vine. Those chardonnay casks rolled in and out like the waxing and waning of moons. While he was only 5 lbs and a rabbit, he longed to be get deep into vinification. He lacked opposable thumbs or a developed cortex to execute complex processes, but God damnit, Chester could dream. He would later be hit by a Suzuki Samurai while trying to cross the interstate.

Godspeed, Chester.

@tiredhandsbeer Entropic, Entropy is not a human issue, Entropy is matter of course

March 12, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I WOULD LIKE TO DECLARE THIS TO BE THE MOST DRINKABLE BEER THAT I HAVE EVER HAD. Live Oak Hef has officially been moved to second place. I drank this entire 32oz growler in ~40 minutes while playing Crysis 3. Srs bzness.

Before we even get started in today’s review, you should turn this shit up while you read this review:

So what do we have today from the Tiredest of Hands. My hands are usually super tired from fapping all the time, but I think discussing entropy warrants that we address something higher than just torquing it. This is a draft only offering from one of my favorite breweries who seems to be seeping from their saison roots and dominating other styles not unlike when Hill Farmstear dropped Damon and everyone lost their shit. So what do we have today? This is listed as an American Pale Ale, but I feel that this is a misnomer given the complexity and execution of this beer. But then again, In statistical mechanics, entropy is often related to the notions of order and disorder. THIS SHIT IS STRAIGHT DISORDERED AND MISCLASSIFIED.

From disorder comes something inherently ordered and simple in execution, call Zeno BECAUSE I FOUND A PARADOX

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Pale Ale (APA) | 5.50% ABV

A: Holy hell look at the radiance on this gentle beast. I did not even look this up before I just went balls deep pouring into globes, not even sparing a single fuck. The carbonation is amazing but not excessive like those crazy Fantome or Upland Lambics, just enough to drop a snap crackle and even some pop notes. Crazy pop notes. AH shit, purge “pop notes” from your memory, I dont need another fucking phrase yelled at me at beer releases.

I looked up and saw this was listed as an American Pale Ale and was all like huehuehuehuehue

S: This has an incredible lemon zest and coriander waft to it, there is a lemon meringue and brackish cleanliness to it that smells straight fresh out of the shower clean. If Polo Sport made a beer, it would be this, so fresh and so clean clean. There is a light hop presence but I am talking like sliding your hand up a thigh in the movies gentle, incredibly restrained. This straight up is not a pale ale, I will just say it, much less an ultra hopped AMERICAN pale ale. To be clear, this beer is amazing, but I feel it is misclassified. If you walk into this expecting some pine and grapefruit zombie dust bomb, FUCKING THINK AGAIN.

T: This carries itself with a graceful lemon and light wheat profile but again is so subtle in execution that picking out the notes from the malts themselves is like picking fly shit out of pepper. There is a lemon pledge meets tangelo finish in the taste and the finish has this amazingly refreshing brackish saltiness to it that almost reminds me of a gose. The faint tartness, lemon, and clean finish makes this beer lean harder on the “belgian table beer” meets gose taste to it. If you have ever had Stillwater Premiere or a grisette, it is like that. You get this sort of baby saison impression that is far removed from the APA world.

This gentle beer is a crazy sniper, before you realize it, growler is gone, and you are out rustling cattle in downtown Baltimore.

M: This is incredibly frothy and clean in the mouthfeel. It washes away completely without any residual lemon tastes, and only a faint hop presence. Seriously, if we are still talking 90’s colognes this is seriously like Davidoff Cool Water of the refreshing beer world.

D: I said it above and I will reiterate it here, this is the most drinkable beer that I have ever had. The abv is masked perfectly and that saltiness washes away begging for another huge swallow. Bird enthusiasts get all excited when I be talking about big swallows. Seriously though, in the same way the Live Oak hef has that amazing honey/lemon thing going on, this has a light saltiness and acidity that makes you able to burn through these growlers with a swiftness.

This may not be the strongest beer, or the most complex, but God damn if it doesn’t get me dripping wet.

Narrative: Paul Regis was the most uplifting person in Kraft’s marketing team. His off-yellow suits and dapper oiled hair made all of the receptionists swoon in the Pizza Pocket division. “And so you see, the losses in the Spongebob Mac and Cheese are actually offset by the Phineas and Ferb fruit snacks!” he declared with a refreshing confidence. The investors nodded and took deep pulls from their lemon water, compliments of Mr. Regis. In the breakroom, he would provide that reassuring nod and listen with quiet solemnity at the most trivial concern from the hispanic secretaries. “And so Celia never replaces the toner and I be like, ‘maybe you need to print adouble asided'” and Paul would make anyone feel that their stupid ass complaints were valid. Paul was not the most complicated individual, but he was just the person to talk to if you had a lighthearted concern that needed confiding.

@tiredhandsbeer Guillermot Prunus, Saison, Bourbon, wild cherries; YOU DO THE MATH

March 11, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

First and foremost, I would like to bitch that the dark saison market is both not highly contested, nor is it well executed in most instances. The problem I feel lies in the mainstream offerings like “The Perfect Crime” having people be all like “oh that? no…I am good…I will just drink…this actually good beer, no thanks.” Most people are shortsighted and unwilling to jump into the shallows and rub their crotches on some sea anemones. Some are very nice. When you get a really good dark saison, you get to merge the best of those dark fruits with the dirty musky and lactic aspects of the saison world. Everyone wins. I used to hold Civil Disobedience 4 as the standard bearer for the genre. 10 days ago I had a CD4 and today I drank Guillermot Prunus, both are exceptional but god damn it if this prunus did not just stomp on my plums.

Dark farmhouse, like a haunted farm, those places that make Kale and listen to Animal Collective.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.50% ABV

A: At first this pours like a watery porter with a deep secret, or kinda like an American wild with one of those questionably dark base beers like Otiose where you are like “wait whats going on here, style crossing is taking place.” I wouldn’t expect the BJCP in all of their 3oz plastic cup glory to carry this innovative style very far, but look at it, it is not quite a porter look, lil khaki foam, watery legs supporting a bit of residual char to the substrate but washing away exceedingly clean. I can imagine an evil ass farm owner drinking this while looking over his plum fields cracking his knuckles and figuring how to excise greater tithes from his serfs. That kinda shit.

At first you are like “saison” then you be like “bourbon” then the salesman is like “DARK” and then you are locked in a 36 month lease explaining shit to your wife.

S: This, like other well done black saisons is a crazy melange of things taking place at once. The initial blast is a bit of drying roast, then it subsides into a black cherry meets cola sort of finish, you get this lactic underpinning like blackberries and the final waft has a really muted musk to it like pumpernickle bread dipped in cranberry juice. Don’t act like you have never been pregnant and tried it.

T: This sets forth with again that chalky roast and for a split second I have a fleeting feeling of sads like someone soured up an Edmund Fitzgerald, but wait, that was secretly the opening band playing a .5 second set, it goes into a raspberry and black cherry jam sesh, minor and mixolydian scales running this light but musky exection on the backend of the swallow. It isn’t exactly like a porter mixed with a kriek, but, if you had no frame of reference, that would be my best initial description. If you have had Otiose, imagine mixing that with Dark White BBB. In writing we call that concrete DETAILS, contrasting with objective experiences, THIS IS WHY I AM A GOOD WRITER OK.

And suddently, something musky and dark arises on the backend, that is strangely welcome.

M: This is a bit chalky at the outset because the interplay of the roasty malts and lactic acidity of the cherries work against one another, however, once you swallow it executed in harmony like a cherry cordial and it is very, very good. I could merk an entire bottle of this and still show up for my Parole Hearing, all redfaced talking about Walmart is hiring. The 8.5% abv is nonexistent with all of this madness taking place on the palate. It is like when the size 12 Honduran chick sneaks in with a bunch of Ford Models into a club, you realize it the next morning, but by then it is way too late.

D: this is exceptionally drinkable and presents a bevy of dark fruits, slick finish, light lactic aspects and a tannic meets char finish that somehow works like bacon ice cream. It is tart yet savory at the same time and makes me wonder how many Weight Watchers points this is, for some reason they did not even list it on the bottle. I AM WATCHING MY GIRLISH FARMHOUSE FIGURE.

It is dark, amazing, and you just want more of it.

narrative: “so if you take the square of the two sides of the figure what do you get?” Mr. Cerise asked the lackluster 10th grade geometry class. Each student slumped in turn, smacking cherry bubble gum and texting tart badinage with one another. “So no one knows how to circumscribe this figure? What about the area of the sides at least?” Again the cool silence and hum of the air conditioner rolled over the Tucson suburbs. Each middle-class adolescent shifted in their chairs uncaring. The protractors went unused and the complexity of the Euclidian formulas went unappreciated. Mr. Cerise ground his teeth and looked down his brow at the class. The cherry gum smacking stopped and they sensed something far more sinister and dark was taking place. “What if you, let’s say you date raped a girl at this ARBY’S we can call that point A-” the class leaned forward, listening intently on this solemn invocation. “And say she WAS AT FIRST CONSENTING AND YOU TAKE HER TO A PARK, call that point B-” even the ESL students began to perk up at this point, waiting to witness the chilling conclusion of point C. “SO, you are going to want POINT C to be as far as possible from the other points, call it THE ROCK QUARRY OK, listen, I don’t have all the answers.” Mr. Cerise dropped his dry erase marker and ran his wet fingers through his musky dark hair. These 15 year olds had just been schooled on some dark edification.

@thebruery Griffon Bruxellois, Adorable Toy Breeds and Banging Tart Cherries

March 6, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

This beer initially caused a row amongst the land owning barons in the Hoarders Society. The upper class magnates received the opportunity to buy two of these awesome bottles but then THE REGULAR ASS RESERVE SOCIETY MORELOCKS GOT TO BUY A SINGLE BOTTLE. Man that must be what it feels like to watch Firestone Walker release Parabola to all the mealy mouthed masses, them enjoying world class BA stouts without even trading. But in all SRS, this beer is damn good and if you were lucky enough to grab one of these bottles, your cherry has already been popped, leaking all sour on the entryway rug.

OH SHIT INTENTIONALLY ACCIDENTAL HOARDERS CARD CAMEO. like anyone gives a fuck.

The Bruery
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.10% ABV

A: This is not as “dark” as I was expecting from the description, and it isn’t exactly as flat as the sad panda marketing description set forth. If you were in Hoarders, this was the email you got describing it:

We debuted Griffon Bruxellois late in 2012 at a few of our events and it was quite a hit. This dark, sour ale was aged in oak barrels on cherries, giving it an incredible fruit flavor, balanced by the roasted malt and lactic tartness. We must admit, this bottle-conditioned beer didn’t turn out quite as carbonated as we were hoping for, but it is still an incredible beer, 100% worthy of our high standards to be sold, served, shared and enjoyed!

So I was like “oh so like Otiose but flat? Carmen on cherries?” boy was I fucking wrong, this has an amazing deep crimson tone that transitions into fuscia, magenta, Lisa Frank binder pinks and….god damnit…I don’t even want to say it

robey tones.

embrace the delcious cherry hugs, no matter how tart and scratchy they may be

S: This has an incredible blast of lactic fruit roll ups, Gushers juice, tart cherry skins, red Fun Dip dust, and a raspberry finish to it. The acidity is there but complimented by a robust fruit profile. Again, this beer exceeded expectations, one of the best Bruery sours that I have had since Filmishmish.

T: This delivers on complexity beyond simple acidity, you get this round tartness at the outset like shocktarts, no acetic vinegar aspects to speak of, a deep dryness on the gumline, raspberry, black cherry, fruit by the foot, tropical skittles, and uncut pom juice, that white brick raw moving hard in the streets. This is kinda like if you cut Sch. Kriek with a more substantial sour like Consecration, really well done and balanced for days.

Bust this out at a bottle share, people be like

M: This is a bit too dry in some aspects because it is incredibly tart, but if it did not have that aspect it would likely be too sweet from the nice fruit profile so I feel that this is a happy medium that has a tannic finish like a full bodied merlot. Drink water with this and hope those old HSV sores dont be blasting open. wait wut.

D: This is like in movies when a cop is chasing a criminal and he is always like tipping over trashcans and shit, like that is a real obstacle come on. This beer is worth the chase and incredibly drinkable but the dryness and acidity is tossing these tiny obstacles in your way slowing you down slightly from going into 750ml+ levels, but this is a beer that is incredibly easy to take down solo if you have some tums and some Smart Water handy. I wish the allocation was bigger on this so I could freeze it or do some dumb shit, but srs, nicely done beer.

Try to take down a couple bottles of this, be a hero.

Narrative: It was not a lively existence sitting in a Chicago highrise apartment all day long. Brixie received the same general care and attention that other dogs in the area received, daily walks, beard combing, and strolls through gentrified areas for defecation. Somehow Brixie felt that she was missing out on something more. The twinge of her heritage pounded in her hindquarters and she constantly looked east over Lake Michigan and wondered just what was happening in Brussels. She felt like an exemplary demonstration of her heritage, yet some short sighted assholes living in a Corn Cob shaped building might fault her for not BEING FROM BELGIUM. It was their loss, her deep amber coat and tart disposition made her a favorite at all of the AKC competitions. Even the most stringent hater had to respect a Griffon with such poise and depth, that did not even shit on the hardwood floors. Brixie was worthy of veneration, no matter what some narrowminded shit head from the 312 area code might think.

Three Floyd’s Murda’D Out Stout, For When Being Baller Just Isn’t Enough and Your Beer Needs that Persian Appeal

March 4, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Three Floyd’s pushes the limits in two things: 1) hoppiness and 2) the elasticity of my anus for these extremely expensive releases. This beer was a ~800 bottle release priced at a whopping $50 a bottle. Some people might be cracking a Rare and shrugging their shoulders, but for the rest of us not living off of capital gains, $50 for a beer is a serious perineum pounder. Anyway, by way of history, almost 2 years ago, Baller Stout came out and it was $30, and beer nerds were acting like the 4 horsemen of the stoutpacalypse had arrived: a blend of Darkness, Dark Lord, Beer Geek Brunch, and Black Albert. So when they announced this, I knew shit was gonna get real. They did not mention that they aged each component beer in barrels prior to blending for 14 months then CPK “two in a bowled” that stout for this masterpiece. Enough fluffing, let’s get to full on stout ejaculation.

Some people be like “$50 rare bottle and you rock pours like that” yeah welcome to DDB, where we arent poor acorn dicks. Make yourself at home.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
Russian Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This has the slick oiliness like Parabola with a nice beige roast still hiding in the bubbles letting you know there is some unresolved shit going on in there. The pour is deep black but sadly I was expecting it to have a “flat black” sheen to it like those stupid assholes in West Hollywood who want people to know this is THEIR RANGE ROVER AND JUST BECAUSE THEIR DAD PAID FOR IT DOESNT MAKE IT HIS PARENT’S CAR. It is shiny black instead.

What’s that you say? $50 1 per person brewery release? IN THE MIDWEST? Well I never.

S: Holy hell this is a complex beer and you have to pull it apart like an onion, or the psoriasis on your testicles. I feel like that Dark Lord leads with its robed black foot first and supplies a deep black blast of sugar, turbinado sweetness, bakers chocolate and Hershey’s syrup all wrapped in a warm bourbon blankie straight from the dryer. You get this coffee pat on the back from Mikkeller, but fuck Mikkeller, the only reason you are hanging out with Beer Geek anything is because it is surrounded by a ton of hot stout chicks. Darkness finishes things out with a deep roasty dryness and this mallowfoam smell that just lingers like when you wonder how many Taco Bell items that you bought the night before.

T: This taste has the complexity of the above and is like Hungry Hungry Hippos just raping your tastes buds with cascading elbows of roast, then bourbon sweetness, then coffee acidity, and chocolate Stone Cold stunning the fuck out of every taste zone. It reminds me if you took the amazingness of Barrel Aged Dark Lord (any really) and they started tossing on body kits, rims, spoilers, and all kinds of extraneous shit. It is a bit sloppier in execution as a result, but it is genuinely every bit as good. I am so glad that this beer has flown so deeply under people’s respective radars. I guess that $50 price tag and the 1 per person was enough to pucker more than a few buttholes, BUT MY BUTTHOLE REMAINS UNPUCKERABLE.

Drink this stout, then go try a normal ass off shelf offering and be all like-

M: This is sticky on the teeth with residual sugars and stick malts but also slightly wafty from the bourbon and the bitter zones get this deep char, Slippy is just doing barrel rolls all day and doesn’t even need to be saved. I can’t accurately restate the mouthfeel without just putting the aforementioned adjectives in a tumble dryer, so fuck it, if you dont get it this might not be the right place for you.

D: This likely has an ABV above 13% abv and I would drink this shit all day long. No qualifier like “I meant during winter” or some bullshit, I will drink this before my job as a bus driver because everyone knows 1) bus drivers cant get DUIs and 2) no one can get a DUI while the sun is up. It is widely known. The cruelest jokes are always the best beers being the least accessible (INB4 Parabola assholes, I know, I know.) Now forget everything I just said, I dont want you ungrateful assholes ruining my chances at landing another one of these. If you have one, it was not even that good, I will send you some Knee Deep stuff for one. Get at me.

Sure it was $50 and super rare, but try to enjoy yourself at least.

NarratiVe: The life of a Chimera only seemed like a blast from the outside. Sure, you are fierce and amazing, aweinspiring at worst. But what about those other times? Try sharing the duality of identity with a series of united beasts. I was born a lion head attached to the body of a dragon, sharing an L1-L2 spinal segment with a goat head, and an unruly snake as a tail. You think I ever got to finish my memoirs with all those assholes constantly wanting to fly around, raid villages, slay King Cnut’s people, submerge scandinavian sea vessels, and fuck all else? Yeah, no rest to be had at all. The snake is diabetic and constantly complaining about our iron and glucose intake, I swear that fucking goat head just eats anything, peasant huts, cabbage farms; anything. Last week the dragon tried to use our penis to have sex with a Manticore. A FUCKING MANTICORE. Can you imagine the bush on that thing? Having a shared penis is bad enough but, you gotta draw the line somewhere. Sure, I am one piece of a fierce beast, but I have so much more complexity than outsiders ever imagine.

Three Floyd’s Zombie Dust, The Worlds Ballerest Pale Ale Gets the Chris Redfield Treatment, T-Virus Steeze

March 1, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Pale ales have been largely passed over in this bustling world of DIPAs and O-ring fingering. Everyone wants to push that malt bill, get them mosaic hops, pound out some resinous tones and fuckall to sessionability and balance. It is like when Norwegian Black Metal lost its credibility and it was just all about 24th fret shredding. We all remember when that happened. But what about the old acorn penis pale ale? Sure it isn’t as big, but it has finesse and can go for long sessions. If you are expecting an asian penis reference, I will defer, the hop cone parallel is low hanging buds. A well done pale ale is amazing, more so than DIPAs in many ways. If you have ever rubbed Hoppy Birthday on your nips, you will know what I mean. Let’s fuck an undead woman in today’s review, so you can lose your -1 virginity once and for all.

If you posted this as your Walking Dead beer, I approve, but I kinda dont. SO CONFLICTED.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
American Pale Ale (APA) | 6.40% ABV

A: For a pale ale, I was expecting some sort of foamy splishy splashy affair, but this is kinda menacing, deep gold tones like those elaborate medals that dictators in Africa always rock. The carbonation is nice and subsides gently in a “pillowy cloud of douchey metaphors.” You get lil archipelagos of lacing and fuck yes I just spelled that without spell check. I dont really want it to be this dark, but, it’s kinda like when Kefka blew up the world, you know that Locke and Sabin will pull through this shit, even if you have to catch fish for 15 minutes.

the label is creepy, this beer is scary drinkable, but in the end you want to give it a hug and tell it everything will be ok

S: God damn, this is like the Donkey Kong Jr. version of Kern River Citra. Seriously, it has mango, peach, dandelions, a light tree sap on the very end but just feels warm and inviting like a shot of fernet branca in your favorite whorehouse while away on a work trip in Amsterdam. You know the type.

T: This is more akin to hopslam at the outset with the janky cloying honey front but then the citra hops push that shit aside and it almost reminds me of that balance that Two Hearted has for a moment but then shit goes more Sculpinerer and finishes with a deeper orange rind zest. This is all painted on the canvas of an incredibly delicate resolution. If you have ever watched shrimping videos online, there’s a certain aplomb and gentleness to fucking someone’s feet that is difficult to look down upon. This is easily one of the best pale ales I have ever tasted, if not the best.

Drinking powerful ass pale ales will prepare you for some impending dystopian apocalypse.

M: This is light and crackly at the outset and leaves streaking of tree sap resin, but in a saucy playful way on the backend and there is some light aserose aspects on the swallow. This is so god damn light but have in the vapors I feel like I am in a Eugene O’Neill play straight waving my face, getting the vapors and wiping my forehead from the execution. Shit is bomb.edu.

D: It would be an aggressive understatement to try and capture the drinkability of this beer. It was bottled 8 days ago and I currently have 40 bottles in my fridge with zero fucks given. Maybe I will give them out at Churchills Finest Hour, maybe I will buttchug some, who knows. Your rectum is the limit with a beer this clean and sessionable. I know DINT, whereever he is, will tell me that I am a shar pei dick for suggesting that a 6%+ beer is sessionable, but for serious, it is. I know we aren’t shooting darts at the pub and eating beans on toast, but if you need to bang a girl from the midwest, this beer will help you get in those Mudd Jeans I am sure they are still wearing. Midwest chicks probably still wear those wonky ass rhinestone BEBE tank tops flossing so hard. Alas I digress.

oh shit I just drank 6 of these on accident? Ruh-roh.

Narrative: Three hours, Chris had three fucking hours to mix this vjolt, pour it in the plant, harvest the hop cones, run up to the observatory, get fucking attacked by crows and finish mixing up his zombie elixir. Who even made this fucking mansion? Some doors require that you place symbols in completely different rooms and gems in moose heads. It seems like if you were living here on a regular basis that would get tedious. Annoyed Chris clutched his resinous v jolt vial and headed for the lauter tun, all he had to do was play Moonlight Sonata on the piano to access the lab. The real estate agent must have been less than forthright when she was showing off this Victorian mansion. Earlier Chris was attempting to get some grain from the storehouse and apparently one of the features of this 18th century gem was a sliding ceiling that would kill someone if they removed a broken shotgun from the parlor. It didn’t make sense, but soon Chris would have a sticky icky potable to sip on. If only he could get his hands on a dank Jill sammich he would be all set.

2012 Lost Abbey Cable Car, Bottles Keep Getting Younger and I Stay the Same Ag-…Fuck. Nevermind.

February 27, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, in the interest of complete whaling thoroughness I will review this 2012 Cable Car, the old dark horse in the lineup. About 3 months ago, a bunch of shitmouths all went down to Toronado and split a vert of the bottles like 43 ways based on what I saw on Untappd. Anyway, so we have a shitload of Cable Car experts now. Everyone was pushing their dicks into reubens talking about how this beer was chlorine and OMG THE WERST. So, hating that stepchild 2010 CC, I wanted to see what the business was. I dropped the $50 and skulled this shit, like a responsible reviewer.

OH SHIT POSTING THE SAME PIC THREE TIMES FOR ULTRA HITS, dinner is on me.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: The carb on this one lies somewhere in between the 2008 (Keira Knightley flat) and 2010 (Natalie Portman tits.) It is filling cups, but not with excitement. You get some wispy crackling but it remains about a step about Doesjel and some old ass lambics in this regard. I asked for a dirtier glass to boost nucleation levels but they wouldn’t comply. The cling is minimal, the sheeting is non-existent and it kinda looks like a Dortmunder with deep gold hues, the darkest Cable Car I have seen since that cherry afterbirth apotheosis version.

LOL the cat is speaking Belgian! but the cat is secretly American.

S: There is a lemon zest, but more akin to super fresh farmers market steeze, like zested on a grater with a slight salinity in the air. You get tangelo, mango, white grape, and hard persimmon. This is all to be appreciated against the backdrop of high acidity that is really more tart than it is straight up Upland Lambic sour. I get a little bit of a muskiness like a gose on the finish that a shiteater might mistake for some kind of chlorine, provided you were completely fucking high on paint fumes, or if you got a sick .9oz pour. Either way.

T: This follows through with that classy musk of Cable Car 2010, light cheesiness, but with that delicious acidity and fruitiness that reminded me of the 2008. Again this is a hybrid of those two years and takes a bit from each and improves upon it, like Mylie Cyrus, a voltron of acrimonious cuntery. That is the name of my acoustic Aphex Twin cover band, Acrimonious Cuntery. Come see us in Connecticut. Anyway, so you get a chardonnay without the drying, a sort of nectarine and tart lychee finish to it, butressed again with this light salinity. I disagree on the chlorine/pool water/salt douche comments that some people were making. If you have banged a few Leipzig hoes you will know all about that light saltiness on your knuckles/wrist.

This beer is refined yet filthy at the same time, like Ke$ha in a pantsuit.

M: This is the meanest leanest cleanest (Ciara got sex appeal) mouth feel that I have had in a Cable Car to date. As a result you dont get that lingering dryness, you don’t get the oakiness dryfucking your bitter zones. What you do get is a light juiciness that is incredibly refreshing, closer in execution to a super lactic Berliner, really. This is a welcome spin and would be more at home in hotter weather, migrant worker sweatshops, etc. I need my American Apparrel jeans made in Downtown LA by non-Americans, for unamerican wages, drinking American beers inspired by Belgian styles. SOURS, MIXED RACE MODELS AND HIGH FASHION.

D: This is off the charts drinkable and for the $/oz you are taking it right down the shaft like a chlamydia test. It is seriously disheartening how fast it disappears. You lose a bit on the dryness that reigns this shit in, but as a result it is more approachable and awesome. You know how a Fender Telecaster has that short neck for ladyhands, perfect for playing Wonderwall and getting those EXPRESS thongs off, but you can’t do sick ass shredding. Then again, sometimes you dont want Dragonforce melting your face, sometimes you want a Night Court marathon to relax to. The people who like this Cable Car best are those contrarian assholes who say that JACKIE BROWN WAS TARANTINO’S BEST WORK NUANCED AND MOST PEOPLE DONT GET IT. I get it, this Cable Car is slowly, subtle, and doesn’t blow anyones fucking head off. Better than 2010, but that’s about it. That’s kinda like big leaguing on the kid who lives in Section 8 housing with his aunt though.

Pop open a $50 bottle of world class beer, put on those jammy jams, and get to chillin.

Narrative: “Ring a clink dernk-” the chimes rang in an off-minor fashion. The city had never approved the financing for the business improvement district and as a result the downtown trolley had fallen into woeful disrepair. It only ran from Fashion Bug to Little Samoa and usually smelled like curry. The seats were all worn and someone spraypainted “NIKO IS A SHITDICK” on the side of the trolly 3 months ago and it was never addressed. To be fair, Niko was a shit dick though. The passengers were supposed to get this whiff of nostalgia, like they were living in the gilded age of oppressive factories and limited social benefits, but instead they lived in the modern times where corporations were just doling out high wages and benefits. It had seen the marks of time and it made some of the Matlock watching passengers smile, but to the average person it was a blemish in the heritage of public transportation and Cable Cars in general. A guy in an ECKO jacket sat in the back row with his clearly underaged girlfriend and rode to the end of the line, Fashion Bug and depression for all riders.

2010 Lost Abbey Cable Car, The Worst Year of Them All is Still Better Than Most All Other Beers

February 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright back down to business, fucking eastern europeans and slaying onsite only walez. This vintage is the one most people have the most complaints about, good ole 2010. When I say most people, I mean “prissy fucking beer nerds” you know, the guys who look like lumberjacks but watch Deep Space Nine, those kinda people. So everyone loves 2009, 08 has a great character, 07 is the famous wale, and kriek is a monster on its own, but what about this asshole, the 2010? Well, let’s pick this shitbasket apart in today’s review.

Back in 2010 you were still working on that GED

The Lost Abbey
California, United States

Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This is pretty similar to the other cable cars in the trolley lineup, deep orange hues, some amber at the center and dark yellowing at the edges. This is the darkest of the Cable Cars that I have had, but still delivers on carbonation and lacing. So if you are the tired ass jokester making Kentucky/Rare jokes and Three Floyd’s burned down fucking quips, look, a carbonated Lost Abbey beer, go watch Paul Reiser standup.

Here to slay walez and amuse the fuck out of you. SING ME A SONG DDB.

S: This has a nice lactic waft of peaches and apricots at the outset but something is slightly amiss at the backend, a type of lavender/grassy aspect is on the back end and I really cant place it as a hoppy presence because it doesn’t quite seem vegetal, it is almost like something from Bed Bath and Beyond or some weird shit. That aspect is why this is like the jankiest Ferrari on the lot, that is the Cable Car lineup. Also, this one comes the closest on delivering a true overseas full Belgian prostitute completion. The waft has this mushroom meets crushed yard trimmings funkiness to it that the other sour patch kids do not have. It is more complex, but flawed as a result. Think of the musk in Doesjel if you need clarification.

T: This imparts that tart acidity that was expected, but also drops a nice cheesy/leather aspect when it finishes. You get a bonus deal of fruits and some dairy, if you know what I am saying. If you don’t, you are at the wrong fucking website, go try reddit.com/beer or some other shit. I like the nectarine going on but again that bitter earthy finish makes this my least favorite of the san francisco treats.

Pop a Cable Car. Pick up chicks.

M: This is extremely dry, but also funky that leaves this lingering bitterness as well. If you can imagine an imperial glass of chardonnay paired with a semisoft cheese, that is the mouthfeel through and through. Some people like it, other people jack off to Lena Dunham. I am not here to tell you what to crank it to.

D: This is, despite its faults, actually one of the more drinkable Cable Cars because of the complexity and it ratchets back the acidity. Hell, maybe it balances it out, I am not a chemist. At any rate, the end product is something like buying a Z4, it is still very nice, but for the money and effort there are far better offerings in both Cable Car and other breweries alike. If you just want to be a completionist and get the tick, this one should be the easiest to lock down. If you are seeking a 2007, good fucking luck, you will need to bust out Bolt Cutter or some serious walez for that.

When people make fun of you for only having the 2010 CC vintage be like-

Narrative: Paul’s Toyota Supra Dealership in Billings, Montana wasn’t the best business entity from the get go. Paul Sharpe knew that going into things. Everyone told him “hey maybe open it up to other import sports cars” or “hey maybe rural Montana isn’t your target market. Paul didn’t give a shit. He loved his art and wanted the world to see the Toyota Supra in the same light that he did. From the lowly Supra Celica to the glorious Paul Walker MKIV Supra, his twin turbos spooled hard in his heart for this obscure automotive gem. Of all the Toyota sports cars on his lot, he had the hardest time moving the ultra shitty MKII. No one wanted that god forsaken turdbox. It looked like something from Blade Runner meets a run down Transformer. A relic from an earlier time whose purpose had been lost over the ages. Somehow, old Paul had an affinity for even the shittiest of Supras and wanted everyone else to love the early-80’s for what they were, not what they remembered of them.

GUEST REVIEW: Lawson’s Kiwi Double IPA, How Can I Do Less Work on this Shitty Site? GUEST REVIEWS.

February 18, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I have got a few requests from people who actually want to throw materials onto this burning trash heap of a website, and I am glad to oblige. Anything that allows me to black out harder and not have to write 900 words for you ungrateful assholes is a good day for me. Mama fixed the breakfast with no hop. Anyway, today’s guest review is from BA Hevvymetalhippie, if you see him, throw a peace sign and say slow down player. If you too would like to live in infamy on the best beer site on the entire fucking internet, let me know. You should be able to write at least at a Dan Brown level, dixpix optional. dontdrinkbeers@gmail.com

also email that fallopian tube who took the nonplural version of that shit, tell him to stop causing periods.

Oh shit, inb4 robey tones/NZ hatespeech

Lawson’s Finest Liquids
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.10% ABV

Appearance: For the few seconds I’m able to pull my eyes off Harlem Shake videos
on YouTube, Kiwi Double is a beautiful brassy orange amber with a frothy white
head of hair…err foam. Just ‘cause there’s a little snow on the roof…how does the
rest of that go? Head goes limp fairly quickly, so get your lacing kicks before it goes
flaccid.

This beer is mirthful yet powerful, and it might molest you

Smell: So the hop note may have faded a bit, but its still right up there, better than
most IPA’s available even in its Golden years…Gritty New Zealand hops, vegetal
and raw. Big, resinous pine and wood notes, grapefruit rind like woah. Malt comes
through more with some time on it, but caramel notes don’t pull out dentures
dentures. Will have you tweaked like J Howard Marshall key bumping blue steel.

Taste: Chewy, woodsy and hoppy. May have faded slightly, but we’re still in the
presence of greatness, so show your elders some respect and get in the closet! Citrus
and pine notes dominate, but soft malt notes support so hops can shine. Although a
little dull like grandpa, you can still tell hops were present, sort of like an old man
who just got off the bus and the seat you just got in is still warm…mmm.

when some people see guest reviews, they be like

Mouthfeel: Straightforward carbonation helps to wrestle bitterness off your palate,
but signs of a struggle and forced entry remain. Raw and uncut, like Clint Eastwood
making racist jokes in Grand Torino but goes down smooth like Clint Eastwood on
Donna Mills in Play Misty For Me. Old people boning. There I said it.

Drinkability/Overall: This is an awesome IPA, nothing but the best from Lawson’s.
It’s fully torqued hop profile, married with a subtle and complimentary malt bill
make Kiwi a must have, and only gets better when its fresh. The ABV hides well; you
barely notice it peaking at you through the blinds, hiding in the buses. Don’t share
this; be a greedy old bastard, those damn kids don’t appreciate anything nowadays.

I had this beer, but was too lazy to review it myself. When I tried it, my face be all like

Narrative: Sure, Red Dubois was the biggest bastard in the county, but he was also
the areas most eligible bachelor on Bingo Night at the Senior Center. He had money
once, from his formative years in modeling, but now his dance card was empty and
the years weighed heavily on his tired and pallid body. But tonight, things were
different. Debbie Sanderson was back from her trip to California looking radiant,
and Red felt the unbridled turgid strain of desire. Things hadn’t gone his way for
quite some time, but he knew tonight he’d the two of them would be yelling Bingo
long after game night was over…

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Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

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