2005 East End Gratitude, The Crow That Started It All, I Put a Bird On It

January 18, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

Can a crow be a whale and a bird concurrently? Today’s inquiry delves deep into the nature of identity and anomalous monism. Psyche, we draining blubber, obvi. This is third in line to the lineage of most sought out barleywine after M and Wooden Hell. If you don’t believe me, go ask resident B dub expert Chadquest and he will show you on a ruler how hard this malty rarity gets him attenuated. So this one is the first Gratitude, the OG of the bird crew, 600 bottles from back in the day. I wanted this one to lay another White Whale to rest in a legit manner. Every other pic I had seen to date (1) had been some Juggalo 1oz pours and shit. You deserve better than that. I knew shit was real when I got 3 messages asking for the fucking empty bottle.

Anyway, let’s put a bird on this bitch and ruffle some feathers. One crow short of a murder.

I used to say “no crow no care” well, now it’s time to fucking care.

Brewed by East End Brewing Company
Style: Barley Wine
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania USA
11.5% abv

A: This is that same deep mahogany brown with a slight muddiness after over 8 years of captivity. The sheeting is notable and it has some nice legs that zambonies what minimal carb still exists. The edges have a sort of khaki dirtiness to it, but its like the hot ratchet chick at Coachella all covered in mud that you still wanna get up in them ugly waist high shorts so she has a story to tell her dorm mates when she gets back to Arizona. That kinda shit.

Pictured above: Beer Advocate user finds out that barleywines were made back in 2005

S: This still somehow smells fucking phenomenal. I was expecting some kinda oxy fest, white kids rubbing norco on their gums and listening to Macklemore and shit. No oxy fest to be found. It’s like East End aged this to perfection, abusing the 8 year old on the cellar gradually over time. If you have had this beer fresh this is a completely different experience. The hops have been acid washed out like some Jordache jeans and you are left with this Gloria Vanderbilt refined poise, the alpha acids almost come across as a wood profile, there’s a crisp oaky finish to the nose that compliments the sweet sticky fig/plum/caramelized raisin that reminds me of those Sugar Baby candies, or a Sugar Daddy I guess, if you love the D. This is still distinctively American Barleywine and if you are gonna go this hard, balls deep in the cellar, the English bitches cant stand the test of time, need them cones to snuggle up to on those cold nights, pulling the malty blanket up, peering through that cardboard wondering when its day will come, trying to silently masturbate in them yeasty sheets and not wake up the headmaster. Man that shit went off the rails pretty quickly.

T: This has a traditional sticky toffee, bitter underpinning, some port sherry and milk chocolate aspects to it, but again, the hops give this deceptive ass wood treatment to it because they have mellow to the point of interjecting some resinous complexity to the finish. If you are like me and bitch nonstop about the lack of barrel treatment (to the point of making YOUR OWN VERSION WHAT THE FUCK IS MY PROBLEM) this is the variant for you. I used to say that the 2010 is the perfect balance between hoppy profile and that sticky decadent profile but this is hands down the best vintage, or really any bottle that has this much time on it I guess. The faux american toasted oak from the hops unites the sweet malty malts and gives a platform to keep oxidation at bay.

you may never try the elusive crow, but you probably dont want to be that type of person in the first place.

M: As I noted before, this is a sticky muddy sweet lil minx, but it also has this residual dryness that keeps the bad bitch in check. I won’t say this has some sort of brandy or bourbon treatment to it, but it seems that the FG is far lower, the highs higher, pupils dilated running your face against the gentle crow. The abv is laughably integrated to the point of being a date rape bird, you can’t give consent after schooling this bitch. Triple double no assist, mix that crow and Malibu, call it Malibooya.

D: Exceptionally drinkable, for 11.5% this puts the pussy on the chainwax. 2013 tickers take fat loads on their face to land King Henrys and grat sits on the boards, there is no justice in this world. You can and should merk an entire bottle of Grat to yourself, and you wont feel like some fat shithead on State Disability while you do it. With this, I have tried every variant of Grat, laying birds to rest. The fresh variants are less drinkable, but this in particular goes down easier than a college sophomore with body image issues. Highly recommended, lube your butthole if you are gonna swing at the crow, feathers will be ruffled, jimmes: rustled.

The only wood that this beer was treated on is the furious tiny boners when people see what u about to make tickers eat crow.

Narrative: No one ever said that being a high school senior was easy, particularly not for an archmage living in the confines of Omaha’s suburbs. Bramblestitch Crowly earned a proud lineage in his own world and was unexcelled in alchemy, until a tragic accident sent him to our cruel reality. “HEY BRAMBLEBITCH, nice cloak, is there a NEEDLEDICK RAVE AFTER SCHOOL?!” the young men cajoled at his expense, his talismans clinking in metronomic pace as he walked slowly while thumbing through a calfskin tome with fragile parchment pages. “MR. CROWLY I SUPPOSE YOU FEEL THAT GEOMETRY IS GOING TO WAIT FOR YOU?” Mr. Billingsly boomed as Bramblestitch lowered his head and took his seat in a tiny desk in the back of the oppressive classroom. It was becoming clear that he may never return to his own time, a relic from the past, years beyond his time. Bramblestitch rolled a fresh quartz crystal in his palm, suffering the slings of adolescence, reflecting as to how a Nebraska school system would permit a fucking wizard to be enrolled completely without question.

Since someone asked, Kiwi Pediobear is coming along nicely, stay tuned tickbitches.

FINALLY: The Christian Argument to [DONT] Drink Beer

January 7, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

I am sure both of the DDB readers saw the recent EARTH SHATTERING EXPOSE on Christians and beer drinking. If you somehow missed it, like you were in detox after new years, or your Yu Gi Oh tournament got way fucking out of hand, HERE IT IS:

http://www.nathanrouse.org/2014/01/01/a-caution-for-every-christian-that-drinks-alcohol/

You wake up thinking you are going to have a fun new year, post some pics of your ribald good times of you and your escort friends drinking: OH WAIT YOU ARE AN ENABLING ASSHOLE. I have just one question for you labiamouthed heathens, when you posted that picture of Fantome Pomplemousse, did you have any idea you were being a cruel temptress to all those people who have no idea what the fuck Pomplemousse is? Well you are, and your esoteric beers make our lives HARDER.

Every time you post a photo of a barleywine, a brewer stomps on a baby hedgehog. Post wisely.

“The often overlooked sin that is rearing its ugly head are Christians displaying their love and consumption of alcohol to those around them in public and on social media, when there are many around them that struggle with this temptation and addiction.”

I bet your insensitive ass didn’t give two fucks about your alcoholic friends who would deeply pine over that picture of Selectie C, despite the fact that they have no fucking clue what it is. Esoteric beer drinkers are enablers and a scourge upon social media. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen someone open a 2005 Gratitude and suffer cascading relapses. Your rare beers are ruining the lives of others, you selfish prick.

“We sin against other Christians and “wound their conscience” (as well as sin against Christ) when we openly act in a way that would cause them to stumble.”

You thought you were being showy with your disgusting bottle of Moscatal Dark Lord, but you didn’t know you were wounding tens of tens of souls. While we are on the subject, why did you invite your new girlfriend to our tasting dressed like that. Like seriously, was that a BEBE dress? I haven’t seen a size 3 girl in months and you have to bring her around the rest of us 18-minute-milers and lead us into temptation. I have news for you though, I will never cheat on my Zoosk girlfriend or my secondlife wife. They don’t know about one another. I WILL PREVAIL DESPITE YOUR BEER TEMPTATION AND SOME GIRL WHO WASHES HER HAIR.

Please enjoy your barrel aged stouts in silent, unposted shame. Think of the children.

“Now, before you say you only do this with others that are like-minded or with your spouse, let me ask the following questions:

Do you highlight or joke about your drinking in person or on social media (posting pictures of your margarita, wine or bottles of beer)?”

We have all seen your albums and albums of alcoholic beverages, those half ounce pours of Dave, those casual afterbrunch Mimosas made with ’99 Bellevue Lambic: THEY HURT THE MOST. As my readers are aware, I have championed not drinking beer for years. I have ever kept a comprehensive gallery of beers to avoid so that people can identify a Kaggen! if they see one and be like “wait hang on, that’s not Kombucha, I am not drinking that shit.” Despite my efforts, they are groups on the internet that still oppress those subject to the lashes of temptation. It doesn’t help that you post pictures of succulent reubens when you I AM ON A LOW SODIUM DIET SO THAT I CAN GET BACK TO MY BOWLING LEAGUE. I don’t need to see thick cut sauerkraut just nestled on cascading folds of salty corned beef, you insensitive foreskin rimmer.

If you want to publicize your beer life, you should have a private website, something with an account, and a circle of likeminded friends. I for one don’t need to see your tawdry filth, Framboos cascading over erect nipples, or whatever the photos look like. I don’t look at that kind of stuff. I come home from a hard day of work, deeply inhale in my hairdoll collection and watch Super Fun Night like a decent person. I don’t need top tier lambics to have a good time.

You can't begin to understand other people's dark temptations. Please refrain posting anything, starting with beer.

You can’t begin to understand other people’s dark temptations. Please refrain from posting anything, starting with beer.

“Do you drink in public when there’s a good chance you might meet someone struggling with alcohol?”

You probably do. Just being forthright with your good times, pressing your dick against the deli glass in the grocery store with careless impropriety. Listen, it’s not that hard. If you engage in anything that might tempt someone else, do it alone in secrecy, or not at all; don’t go drenching those chiseled abs in Wooden Hell. No one wants to see that, in fact if you just want to send those directly to my inbox for proper disposal I will make sure no one is hurt by your tawdry filth.

I will close with this truth:

“I love you and I don’t want anything to dim the light that’s shining in and through you.”

I drink these shitty beers for you, every single Truffle Abduction variant, for you. I get rid of these obscure mid-2000s saisons to protect you. I don’t want your light to be dimmed by walez.

You Are Not a Brewer, You Are a Panhandler with a Kickstarter Account.

January 2, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

Here’s a general business tip to anyone looking to start a mediocre brewery in 2014: if the initial funding for your shitty project involves shaking an alms cup on the internet, your beers will probably taste like afterbirth. Consumers are dumb, beer drinkers are even dumber. Dipshits regularly pay hundreds of dollars for bottles of beer that have marginally worse analogs available off the shelf. Remember when I reviewed fucking Depuration? that should be proof enough that the craft beer world is full of cockstains without mountains of disposable income.

One thing about beer nerds though, they have excellently calibrated bullshit detectors. You may beguile them into paying $250.00 for a Reserve Society that promises 2 glasses and a plaque, but even the sloppiest mantits will not pony up money FOR BEER THAT DOESN’T EVEN FUCKING EXIST. Recently there have been ropes and ropes of precum turned out by “brewers” who promise eternal anal massages for pennies on the dollar and forthcoming ambrosial treats. If you saw one of these people on the street they would look like this:

Future master brewer at work

Most of these smegma projects are two assholes with a 10 gal setup who have drank enough of their own shitty red ales to decide that they are now professional brewers. Wanking it in a garage every other Sunday doesn’t make you a professional, no one sees me putting up a Kickstarter to fund my Daredorm account. Most of the time the Kickstarter makes oblique promises that range from “one wish” to “potentially nothing.” Let’s say you had a raging hard cock to make sure Oregon City got some janky irish ales, DON’T YOU FECKING WORRY:

That’s right, for $500, you can DESIGN A BEER THAT MAY LIVE ON FOREVER (if all the permits and equipment and tap licenses and zoning permits and municipal compliance papers and merchandising rights are locked down: FOREVER.) Chances are, if you are letting random fucking people stumble in and start designing recipes, your shit is likely going to make Short’s Brewing look like a purist domain.

How about this, do you have fucking Alzheimers? Are you totally incapable of finding a bottle opener but need to get drunk to forget about that one night in Cinncinnati? OH SHIT AN APPLBEES MUG WITH AN OPENER BUILT INTO IT:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/591192052/open-brew-beer-never-search-for-a-bottle-opener-ag?ref=live

Next time when you wanna sip Framboos out of a clunky shitty plastic mug, YOU WONT NEED TO FIND ANYTHING TO GET THE CORK OU- oh. Shit. This technically isn’t from brewers, but I am sure it will make any virgin/Steelers fan happy.

If you donate $10,000 to my horrible anuswater startup you will receive one baby Pangolin.

Perhaps you want to see Colorado’s struggling beer scene finally get the legs that it so desperately needs. Maybe you read Jurassic Park one too many times and now draw erotic dinosaur fan fiction. Well these guys at Fossil Brewing have you covered:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1368342567/fossil-brewing-company?ref=live

If you donate $1,000.00 to them you get…TO NAME THEIR FERMENTER. I am not shitting you up the dick, you will ascend to a God-like level and be able to his the ultimate apotheosis in naming a huge aluminum cylinder. The woman that works at Chik-Fil-A has 5 dildos, each with a different name. For way less money you can name her next marital aid and feel good about helping people under the poverty line.

I was just gonna waste hundred of dollars on heroin this year but then I saw this dude IS GONNA MAKE BROWN ALES HOLY FUCK

I was just gonna waste hundred of dollars on heroin this year but then I saw this dude IS GONNA MAKE TRADITIONAL BROWN ALES HOLY FUCK

Maybe you didn’t read about it in the news but Phoenix is in a state of complete national emergency THERE IS NOWHERE TO PURCHASE A QUALITY CZECH LAGER. Co-eds from Tempe have been bussing in and sucking cocks just to land precious bottles of that rare libation. Have no fear, these guys are here to save the fucking day:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1359827264/dubina-brewing-co?ref=search

You may be thinking “wait, what qualifies these guys to take upwards of a G from me?” Uh well, a little something called “AWARDS” maybe youve heard of them? Unnamed awards from PLACES. Also, “[the brewer] showed up to a local Oktoberfest with a cinnamon sourdough concoction. His kegs were dry long before those of the local breweries surrounding him. People asked “Sourdough and cinnamon? Why?” His answer was simple: “Because I can.” It is with this tenacious “Because I can.” mentality that he approaches each and every brew.” BECAUSE IT IS ARIZONA SO FUCK YOU.

WAIT FUCK HOW MANY LOGO PINT GLASSES FOR YOUR IMAGINARY COMPANY DO I GET HANG ON I NEED TO SEE IF I CAN LIQUIDATE MY 401K REALLY QUICK

In summation, if you don’t have a legitimate business plan, real backers, financial acumen, a tested product, a consumer base that actually gives a fuck, unique beers that don’t rely on shitty adjuncts, and a proven track record beyond praise from your alcoholic/child molester uncle: you probably shouldn’t be opening a brewery. Get back to selling oranges by the freeway and dreaming of your TRIPEL ORANGE CREAM DREAMSICLE WITBIER AGED IN GRAND MARNIER BARRELS AND HONDURAN TEARS.

Post your favorite shitty kickstarter in the comments section.

InBev Shattering Buttholes: YOU CAN’T HANDLE THIS 25oz EXTRA OUNCE CAN

December 12, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Time to bust out the berber carpet underwear and rub your dickhole raw, InBEV IS NOW MAKING 25 OUNCE CANS:

SCIENCE BITCH: check out the fucking ICE COLD EASY INDICATOR. Now you know when your bomber+ is COLD ENUFF.

SCIENCE BITCH: check out the fucking ICE COLD EASY INDICATOR. Now you know when your bomber+ is cold enough to press to your child’s forehead after a savage beating.

I can’t tell you how many times I have been huddled around a Detroit trashcan fire under an overpass and the topic of tallboys comes up. Reggie “Scabies” Washington once sagely noted that the 24oz can was anomalously saddled in between a bomber and a 750ml bottle and we all nodded intently. Well InBev has decided to directly address this issue with AN EXTRA OUNCE. If your wife isn’t listening and wont stop nagging you during Duck Dynasty, that extra ounce will give you the extra courage you need to go silently sit in your cold garage and watch Dale Jr. highlight footage on a VHS tape.

With that extra drop of crisp drippings from rusted undercarriage, you can truly appreciate the nuances of beer “as clear and bright as mountain air.”

Not sure how to break it to the neighbors that you are a registered sex offender? Carve this pumpkin and sit on the porch with your 25oz can, they will figure it out.

The common objection to this bold marketing move is “why not just 40’s?” The point is well taken and, once Busch figures out a 40 ounce can, you too will be the envy of the Child Protective Services counselling room when you bust open your tiny barrel of succor. Think of the applications, how many times have you gotten to that lukewarm, bitter drop of urethral runoff and thought “just when I had reached my immersion point of cornwater lager, now it is gone like a brief adjunct candle.” Fear not, the good times keep rolling for almost two whole extra sips.

Think about what you can do with two extra sips:
– a gaff take where you spit it out when someone tells a racist joke
– honor your fallen homie who died attempting to jump a snowmobile
– demonstrate to your child’s mother that you aren’t an alcoholic by dumping those last precious drops
– toss it in the face of some liberal complaining about your trophy buck festering on the lawn because hey, you’ll get around to cleaning it, how is that his business anyway?

Hot on the heels of shit that was interesting to 7th graders in 1998, Bud’s crack marketing team can do no wrong!

If your palate isn’t nuanced enough to pick out the opiates in escort urine, fear not, this “1 Extra Ounce” sized can will be coming for Budweiser, Bud Light, Rolling Rock, Busch Light, Natural Light, Michelob Ultra & Natty Daddy, Busch Ice, Bud Light Lime Straw-Ber-Rita, Lime-A-Rita & Bud Ice and others as well.

I can sit here all day and try and cajole you into letting Adolphus Busch fart in your mouth, or I can just let them sell you this modern marvel:

“It’s more than just a new can or some new packaging innovation. And it’s definitely more than just one more ounce of beer. It’s our way of saying “Thank You” to all the loyal Budweiser drinkers who reach for the King more than any other beer.” SOURCE: http://www.budweiser.com/en/us/content/king-of-beers/article/the-new-25-oz-budweiser-can

The best way to encourage moderation, is that extra ounce. No single innovation has done more for the beer community, past or present. DDB would like to extend a huge NO THANKS to breweries who insist on using labia clapping 750ml bottles. I want a beer, not some sorority party where we all hit one another with goose down pillows jumping on a bed and you can’t even really tell if we are legal in the first place, you know? The last time I brought a fancy big glass bottle somewhere, everyone at the wake acted like I was acting in poor taste: so fuck you craft brewers, thanks for no extra ounces.

@3Floyds Alpha Kong, Most Tickers are Beta on that Diddy Level, Time to Go Straight Alpha

December 10, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

What were you doing in 2007? Probably looking at specs for the first iPhone, optimizing your shitty MySpace page, maybe pressing CDR copies for your generic post-hardcore band that you forced your friends to listen to. Meanwhile, this bottle was waiting, waiting for you to stop being a complete pussy. By most accounts, this bottle is extinct. It is reviews like this that alienate the fuck out of my casual readerbase and ensure that they stay fuck away and let the adults have a discussion, while they drink Ten FIDY or whatever normal people drink these days.

This is a beast, a monster. This beer puts the pussy in a sarcophagus. I know, on paper it is like “Alright, a Belgian Strong Ale from 2007, this sounds like a fucking horrible idea.” Stay with me now. This goes beyond busting malty wheelies for the sake of rareness, it is revisiting a page from that FFF pedigree from days pays. Time to show the betas what being alpha is all about. On a beer site. About sugar water.

Kong be flexing, gripping on white women, putting Alpha Klaus in his place. Classic.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States

Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 15.00% ABV

A: BPA clocking in at 15%? This sounds like the best idea since Hess brewed that 12% abv pale ale. The carb on this geriatric gem is minimal and pours out with this golden viscosity just sheeting for days and leaving that clear sheen on the glass like tears on Drake’s face. The honey glows this dulcet amber and pangs of ambrosial sweetness. It kinda looks like aged regular ass Behemoth does with some years on it, but a surprisingly attractive beer.

Oh great, please, show me more pics of your cases of Zombie Dust. No please, tell us how rare it is. We will wait, oh I see you have some Pride and Joy too, surely this will be an inspiring narrative.

S: The olfactory profile on this is a bizarre mishmash moshpit of titties being groped, plums, a weird cherry quad aspect, but then honey/mild oxy paper/and a crazy floral finish to it. It reminds me of a blend of tripel and quad in execution and the slightest agitation gets it to stand up wicked pissed, tossing esters to and fro like shurikens.

T: This is a sticky syrupy bomb that has a similar slickness and saccharine opener in line with huge wheatwines like SYXX and 2012 White Chocolate. The belgian candi sugar is up in the mix, there is a tart lemon bar pastry stuck in the middle, the swallow kicks up jammy fig and bruised peaches as the whole mob runs down your gullet trashing shit like Monsanto protesters. It is a riot, the unbeatable high, the whole experience, despite 6 year in the bottle to learn its lesson and mellow out, has not learned a fucking thing. This is the type of asshole who would pants the yard duty teacher. This beer says fuck Benzino and still gets the cover of the Source. The alcohol waft is present but integrated surprisingly well. None of the oxy on the nose is present here, or it might have gotten the merciless shit kicked out of it by the foregoing mob.

Two reviews in two days? DDB IS ON A ROLL. Or I am sucking my own dick. brb

M: Again, this is sticky icky honey, put that sugar on my tongue. This coats massively like the fair-skinned version of Dark Lord, back in the days when Dark Lord was relevant beyond duping new traders into brewery only release offloading. For all the hell that critics love to drop on Southern Tier, this is a far most viscous beetus bomb than their Backburner series, but it also is a lot more nuanced and delicious. The abv warms but doesn’t come across in a fusel waft upon exhale, it just sits there stamping hands and allowing entry into the malty gangbang into your mouth.

D: This is not exceptionally drinkable, less so when it starts to get warm and open up. You ever have one of those friends who fucking starts crying every time you guys get really hammered? Serve him this. The SRM is deceptive as shit and then you can take all the Vine videos you want while he talks about how hard it is to make a woman climax. It is ironic that an old beer that is supposed to make you feel Alpha ends up making you feel beta as fuck. Drinking 800 calories in a single bottle: not alpha. Hypertension is only alpha if you got it from doing too many drugs or being a WWE veteran or something. Sticky sweet potations: not alpha, unless you are in a rap video, then enjoy all the Prosecco you want, I guess. This beer makes you feel like a pussy, but in a good way, that “needlepoint next to the hearth” sort of way. I am ok with that that kinda vajeen.

Show that 2013 ticker this bottle, let’s see him talk about Backyard Rye after you own the fuck out of him.

Narrative: Alphonous Konig had trained religiously for the upcoming North American Alpha Male championships and nothing would rob him of the title this year. His torn negligee tank top dragged blithely over this shredded deltoids, furrowed like wanting pumpkins. He had memorized decades of NASCAR trivia and could even call other contestants out if they had a limited understanding of rebuilding carbeurators. He purged his home of every single pillow in preparation of the event and deleted every person out of his phone with a BMI higher than 10. He didn’t need those negative influences in his life, even if his mom did call him constantly. It wouldn’t kill her to work on those obliques. After completing an advanced course in Club and Lounge Rhetoric, he felt fully equipped to demean and manipulate women into his graces. Alphonous lost last year when it was revealed that he once agreed to a couples costume, to the judge’s dismay. This year his hulking frame and vascularity would demonstrate his loud mouthed, uncompromising, short sighted, demeaning, HGH driven egomaniacal self, with top honors.

@darkhorsebrewco 2010 Bourbon Barrel Plead the 5th and 2011 Plead the 5th Aigre, Sub 100 Bottle Counts Like a Red Nose

December 9, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

First and foremost, huge LYMI thanks to Tom TRXXXPXXXSSSS for droping both of these gems on the old DDB liver.

When I imagine that life is like in the cold north of Michigan, I think of bleak sheets of white, running 24th fret solos on a B.C. Rich guitar, and feeling those supple stretch mark grooves along the chest and thighs of that sweet Midwest PYT that I picked up at a bowling alley. These are my fantasies. For every person in Michigan that is large, there is a corresponding bottle count that is small. Such is the axiomatic nature of the beer world. 230 bottles of Blueberry Eisbock are released to husky beer nerds and all is correct in the world. Eating disorder Florida will drop 14,000 bottles of Huna and still live in denial about its weight. Balance to the force.

But what happens when Michigan drops a beer with 36 bottles like BBpt5 OG Edition 2010 750ml banana clip release? How about that 60(?) bottle beat drop of the Aigre? WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO THEN? If you said “slay whales” audibly at your cubicle, then yes, you are correct. You are also a fucking weirdo. Let’s get it.

Before you complain about small pours, I had plenty, please continue pulling your testicle skin over your tiny dick aka that tiny tent.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States

Style | ABV
Russian Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV *

*My understanding is that these have changed over time and the first batch was like 15%+ the Aigre was (?) and the youdontgiveafuck was measured at an all time high.

Also, I already reviewed this bad bitch RIGHT HERE SO READ THIS NORMAL ASS BBpt5 review EVERYTHING YOU SEE WILL BE A CONTRAST

In other words, I am not gonna dupe some content for the purpose of hoodwinking them loyal readers. Instead, I am gonna be a lazy shit and just point out WHAT IS DIFFERENT. Why set up the laptop when you can jerk it in bed to old beer pics on your phone? Right.

A: Both of these bottles have some lack luster ass carb. They seem a bit more thin than their “fresh” counterparts and I feel like time may have metabolized a bit in the spacious 750ml apartment. Floor to ceiling windows and shit. There is no lacing to speak of, but who is really speaking of lacing these days anyway besides some entry level Papazian dipshits?

When a brewery releases less than 100 bottles, you are drinking homebrew. Some people just want to watch the world burn.

S: The 2010 bbpt5 is really muted and has a light char, some faded cocoa like chocolate milk left out overnight, the bourbon profile imparts more of a coconut and oaky ghost rather than the full on fisting that the fresh version pumps in 5 digits strong. The aigre is a totally different beast. I was expecting some Tart of Darkness fucking sour stout, but the sour profile is really nuanced and makes me doubt whether they really set out to make this sour. There is a cola/Dr. Pepper aspect with some black cherry and currant, but again, its really in the backfield kicking grass and not really contributing much to the company softball team. It is essentially pleading the 5th on the sour olfactory notes.

T: The bbpt5 OG version is kinda disappointing if you have had the super cutty, tongue kiss your aunt, erase all your save data hardcore fresh version. The roast is there, the bourbon and oak is really muted and integrated more like a sort of sweetness and faint prickly cherry finish. Truthfully, the valley between the aigre and the old ass BBpt5 is not that wide. Sure the aigre is sour, but it’s not exactly the mouth-fucking extravaganza you signed up for when you bought tickets to the lactic donkey show. The aigre offers up an amped up (3 of 10) tartness with a bit of plum, blackberry, but really turnt down. The original itself may have a mild infection, but the aigre is so light in execution it doesnt really step in the way. It’s not like when Funky Buddha takes you to summer camp and violates the fuck out of you with infection. This is more of a “touches your boner accidentally when reaching for the popcorn” sort of infection. It is there, but it doesn’t seem intentional, so it’s ok.

36 bottles. Bring this to a tasting and shitty Proprietor’s tickers be like-

M: The mouthfeelings on both of these are thin, wispy little endeavors and the abv is integrated seamlessly. The finish is closer to Event Horizon and Velvet Merkin than anything in the big boy realm. It could be the roast, it would be the age, or the dryness, but it’s a pretty seamless mouthfeel that coats, washes away, and then leaves no trace like a top tier escort. All is well in the mouth face tasting place.

D: The aigre was less drinkable, largely because there was a little prickly tartness at the finish that wasn’t a game changer, but it was more of a mild annoyance. It didn’t contribute much to the beer and came across like those stupid vents they put on cars that clearly don’t need them. It’s like, your car has no intercooler, you clearly dont need a fucking hood scoop. This beer was good as it is, you dont need some cherry/cranberry bitch in the backseat talking about how good Chick Fil A is. Furthermore, the 2010 bbpt5 was GOOD, but the fresh version is GREAT. The thin aspect kinda ruins that HUGE OPPRESSIVE bourbon waft and coating I have come to love smacking the underside of my perineum. That lil punishment made the experience worthwhile. This is too polite, goes down too easily, and finishes too quickly. I had to sound sleazy but stout tease me, I dont want it if it’s that easy.

When Tom dropped this on my doorstep it was like “well fuck, time to get to work”

Narrative: I already did a narrative for this beer. If you want an Aigre narrative, sprinkle in some tart references to a distant brother or something equally transparent. The writing on this site is two tips mushing until forever.

@westbrookbeer Mexican Cake 4 Way Battle Royale, Columbian Lumberjack Rules; Ladders and Cagematch Setup

November 20, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, if you follow this site regularly on twitter/instagram/facebook/WP/etc. you are probably stout brown in the face after seeing a relentless 5 pics on Monday of MC shit. Apologies in advance, I think of poor Etan, I think he subscribes to every one. Anyway, I don’t feel like dropping a solid 2000 word deuce and belaboring the point on this one so I will just be lazy as two lesbians in a Sharper Image massage chair and just post some thoughts and we can lay this whole Mexy dispute to rest.

Without further ado, let’s find out about Mexican Cake: from South Carolina, a state that probably couldn’t advocate worse treatment of Mexican people.

Invariably some dipshit will complain 1) NOT THE SAME 4 GLASSES or 2) YOU DIDNT DRINK ALL 88oz. Criticism fail.

Before I go any further, yes, I know that there is a draft-only “COFFEE CAKE” but I couldn’t give a fuck less about that after mowing through 4 variants, so content yourself with this for now. This beer doesn’t need any more fucking adjuncts. Speaking of which, if you have a Coffee Abaraxas, hit me up.

FIRST UP: Regular Ass Mexican Cake, No Barrel Treatment, Not Rare, Psh only cocoa nibs, vanilla beans, cinnamon sticks, and fresh habanero peppers. Do you even adjunct bro?

The Scrappy Doo to Huna’s Scooby.

These all look essentially the same and exhibit the same base olfactory profile what with the birthday cake sweetness from the vanilla, this horchata/mole thing going on with the cinnamon and habanero peppers, with a solid chocolatey closer. This is not the same old thin song and dance that North Carolina rolls out and I think the enhanced racism from South Carolina adds some depth to the body of this beer. You can taste the conservative faith-based attenuation. The mouthfeel is mid-range and coats similar to Parabola and Damon. You don’t get the Huna and Abyss 1.045 FG sweetness, but it is better in that regard. The problem that arises is that there are just too many fucking adjuncts going on. It’s like when you go to an entry-level improv show and its 7 different dipshits all shouting punchlines and nothing coherent comes together. The chocolate aspects serve as an MC to keep the other assholes in check and it is a very good representation of the chili stout style.

Verdict: This is the “worst” of the 4, but that is hardly fair with no barrel treatment complexity or depth. This shines in brightness to the chilis and likely would pair with food best. The most accessible and def worth seeking out.

THIRD PLACE: Apple Brandy Barrel Mexican Cake, AB Huna be giving tickers all these unreasonable expectations

Apple Brandy!? OH SHIT LIKE LAIRD’S HUNA- No. Very far from that, in fact.

I will admit, I came into this expecting this to be the best, not fucking third place. The thing that I failed to consider was: 1) this beer is far thinner than Huna 2) those malts are needed to bounce the vanilla and cinnamon and cocoa and rock candy and skittles in the brew and finally 3) apple brandy treatment is really. fucking. sweet. I don’t mean that in a mid-90’s rrrrradical rollblader way, I mean sweet like packets of Stevia rubbed on the tip of your cock. The barrel comes out the gates with sticky sweet apple pie filling, home run pies coated in cake batter, and then a strange heat that just does not meld with the sweet profile. Add the relatively thin base to parade all of the foregoing out upon and it’s a bit underwhelming.

Verdict: This trades at an ape shit level and I don’t see it improving over time. Those solid 5 ratings from tickers in the first week make me wonder if people awash in Terrapin are where I should be accepting my beer reviews from. I can’t recommend trading a fucking DDG/DBD/DDB/BDD/OPP for one of these.

RUNNER UP: Red Wine Barrel Mexican Cake, Put on those Lane Bryant stretch pants on and go full on divorcee mode. Bonus points if you bought this bottle with alimony funds

Mmm put on those jammies and Cougar Town and just nest with this one

I expected this to taste like a Smuckers trainwreck and potentially be worse than the base beer, but I was wrong as two Arizona State co-eds in an algebra class. This is really fucking phenomenal and the red wine underpinning is an adjunct flavor that actually FEELS LIKE IT BELONGS THERE. This doesn’t continue to push your o-ring with sweet or weird savory, it provides a tart aspect that cuts through the other din like a high hat through a metal solo. This is actually the driest of the bunch too and the fruit character somehow just works with all of the chili and cinnamon tingling. This would be hands down first place if the final variant weren’t just fucking phenomenal. I really recommend trying to lock down the “least desirable” variant, awesome offering.

Verdict: certainly worth seeking out and a vast improvement over the apple brandy. Let’s be honest, most of these “ERMAGERD MEXICAN CAKEEEEE” tastings like like 11 khaki-teethed assholes in a backyard each getting nuances from their tired 1oz pour. “OH YEAH I GET ALL 5 of the adjuncts in the bottom of this dirty glass, GONNA DROP A HOT 5/5 on UNTAPPD BRB NO ONE TALK TO ME.” Seek this one out, does not disappoint.

WINRAR: Jack Daniels Barrel Mexican Cake is the Best Variant, I know, I am surprised as you are. Fuck.

Inb4 “JACK IS NOT BOURBON I READ THIS ONLINE ARTICLE AND NOW I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT CHARCOAL FILTERING THANKS MAXIM”

HOW COULD THIS HAPEN. I know, I too had the memories of painful JD Eclipse in my mind, the dead bodies huddle in piles, palates destroyed, when I opened this banger. This is not only the best variant, it is straight up better than Rum, CA Brandy and Whiskey variants of Huna. THINK ABOUT THAT SHIT. This is a real goldilocks scenario because the JD adds a great caramel aspect to assist the cinnamon/vanilla, the oak is just sweet enough to give a depth to the sweet cocoa, the dryness is enough to pair with the chili and the whole thing feels amazing, like when you clean your Fleshlight for the first time. This is mindblowingly good and shockingly, the easiest to acquire, all stretched buttholes considered. Thanks again KG for this one.

Verdict: this beer is phenomenal and one of the best stouts that I had this year AND I FUCKING DRANK BOTH NARWHAL AND SUEDE SO THINK ABOUT THAT ONE OK. But really, this was exceptional and well worth a rebrew, unlike EBT ass Apple Brandy, lookin for handouts.

So there were have it, wait what? Narrative? Go fuck yourself. We are at 1200 words already. Here’s some memes, drop them in where ever you want, I am finished with this shit:

refill bottles of MC variants and smash them at a tasting. beerloser heart attacks ensue.

Thanks for taking time out of your busy permavirgin schedule to read my review of some sugarwater.

I SAW THE MC VARIANTS ON DDB AND WANTED TO LAND ONE WITH THIS HALIA-

@cptlawrencebeer Flaming Fury, First Your Mouth is Flaming, Then Your Angus Is Flamed by this Rari

November 18, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

2013 ticker alienation continues with another old whale from times past. Back before the white whale list was filled with T25’s and Mimosa, this used to be a sought out old standby. Then sometime around 18 months ago, people started the old rumor mill of wackiness “ERMAGERD ITS LIKE NAIL PERLESH” and other unsubstantiated claims. Then, haters who will never try the beer, take that and validate their own inability to try it and give credence to the sourest of grapes. Anyway, I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of the Source. I still wanted to tick it, so here we are. Let’s see if this acidic asshole has learned to calm down since 2009 or if its still Flaming so hard

Johnny Blaze flaming on with that Reed Richards tip.

Captain Lawrence, New York
American Wild Ale
10% (?)

Bottle Hype: This was a fun one to make. We took some of our barrel aged sour golden ale and added a bunch of fresh picked local peaches and let the barrels ripen. The flavors are earthy, fruity and of course…SOUR. Enjoy this one on a hot summer day with a ripe juicy peach in hand. From the Captain’s cellar to yours, we hope you enjoy!

A: This looks like a radiant, welcoming lil snifter of sunlight. The lacing is actually pretty substantial given the claims of insane acidity and the srm remains inviting throughout with soapy bubbles that don’t just crackle and peace out instantly. If you liked the way Ithaca Brute looked in a nightgown, here’s another New Yorker that will move that malt paddle.

Don’t let the hard rep of this beer scare you, it has a soft gentle aspect to it

S: Ok, butthole tightening commencing forthright. This is unquestionably an ph bomber dropping in that sub-4 range gracefully and letting you know the danger like a Monarch butterfly. Signaling phenotypes all up in this bitch. There is a light musk, lemongrass, some wet hay but overridingly so this is an apricot and orange pith bomb with huge citrus leaping out of the glass and melting your face like those Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. A deep pull will give you a sort of “unbalanced Fou Foune” aspect to it, like if an American decided Foune needed a bigger wing, racing stripes and MOMO 5 point harness seats. That. Fucking aggro foune, essentially.

T: This ramps up the delicate profile of Foune and adds apricot, but then covers all those tastes up with amped up acidity, then ramps up the tannic dryness until it feels like you are getting your ass beat to join a Lambic gang that you never asked to be a part of. This is pleasant and so over the top in the foregoing ways that you need to take small sips and let it warm up to even make heads or tails of the wall of death/circle pit taking place. The musk is almost non-present and if you have ever had a mid-2000’s fou foune, then dialed back the musk/funk for a sort of creamy acidity: you have just been flamed. You might as well dye your pubes fire engine red after sampling this bad bitch, completely flaming. Ronald McBush for sheeze.

drop this in the cup, then run to the GI specialist.

M: This is incredibly drying, wipes out the gumline with covering fire, uproots your bicuspids with a deep burn like sick box jumps bro super RHABDO. Acidity is banging and they prolly were gonna bottle this in a non-silica based container since it may eat through the bottle soon: this shit is dry and verrryyyy sour. That being said, this is not Motherfunker, this isn’t 2010 Weyerbacher Riserva, this isn’t THAT kinda sour. People reach far too quickly for nail polish/vinegar or whatever tired ass uninspired adjectives to toss on this beer. Flaming Fury isn’t that. It is just imperial acidity without the off flavors attendant thereto. It is shockingly delicious for how punishing it is. You ever play that game Dark Souls? You know how you get so mad and it just keeps kicking the shit out of you, but you just want more? That’s Flaming Fury. It will tear you up and you will like it.

feel the cankersores forming and your face be like

D: This is strangle crushable in the way that Hot Cheetos are oddly addicting. You take a drink and you are like FUCK THIS BURNS LET ME TAKE ANOTHER SIP TO FIX THIS. Then you have red fingers and a scorched mouth, just wanting more. Sure, it is rare. Sure, there might be some other “comparable” American wilds, a completely unbalanced DDG comes to mind. But ultimately nothing is QUITE the same. This is def worth a tick, still drinking strong, worth trading for and well worth the cost of entry if not for the memorable lambic deuce you will drop the next morning. Dust off that Lindley Park and go embarrass yourself trying to lock this one down. I believe in you.

At first you only consider your brain and insides melting, then you feel a strange welcoming aspect to the experience

Narrative: Flaming Man was one of Dr. Wily’s little known creations. The old doctor never took the trouble to make him his own realm, or even to patent a power for poor old Flaming Man: such was his burden. In reality Flaming Man was really just a huge anthropomorphic beaker of pure acid. There was little use for him around the castle but Dr. Wily felt bad turning such an acidic bastard out on his haunches like Protoman. “Sssiirrrr, I errrhmmm need towelllsss I scorcheddd the entryyyy way marbllleeee. SSSSoorrryyyy-” Flaming Man droned on while attempting to push the pools of acid around with a Brawny towel, making things immeasurably worse. “FOR FUCKS SAKE FLAMING, just, stop get out of here, go bother Cutman or something-” Dr. Wily ordered with a stern command. He had been around for so long and some were outright afraid of him. But deep down the acidity was his undeniable charm, his scorching efficacy, his tingling embrace. He would later earn serious points by spilling and melting Rush’s face off, completely by accident. Not even Megaman himself could deny the memorable wrangling of this caustic bastard.

@terrapinbeerco Depth Charge, 2009 Coffee Stouts Aging As Gracefully As CBS (Stout and Network)

November 15, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Aw shit, time to alienate some 2013ers for the umpteenth time on old DDB. If you were around back when Bruery was first banging out BT, back when Dark Lord was a relevant product, back when people still used Blackberry’s and shit: you know this beer. This is an old whale from days past, 2009 Terrapin Depth charge. “What a fantastic idea, reviewing a 6.5% abv milk stout made with coffee” yes. It is a fantastic idea, about as good an idea as reviewing a vanilla stout 3 years after bottling, holleratchaBCBVS.

Midwest pour detected: 22oz into straight crystal. Decadent as a MyFreecams premium account.

Formerly brewed at Terrapin Beer Company
Style: Sweet Stout
Athens, Georgia USA
6.5% Abv

Terrapin Midnight Project Brew Two 2009. Sometime around midnight in a city nobody can agree on, the idea for Terrapin and Left Hand to brew a collaboration beer was born. Depth Charge is the second in the series of one-time releases between the two breweries. Be wary of the calm before the storm. This creamy, deeply delicious milk stout will seduce you into submission while the explosion of hand roasted gourmet espresso will blow you into next week. We Shall Drink in the breweries. We Shall Drink in the pubs, We Shall Drink the the comfort of our homes. We Shall Never Surrender.

A: This is still a beautiful lil mocha beauty out of the gates, sea biscuiting that foam all over the place. I had to be careful, using a $200 glass and all, so maybe I didn’t go as aggro on the pour as I should have. The carb is substantial and the residual malts lace the glass with sticky webbing like your keyboard after an 8th grade sick day. The thin mocha brown texture spills out like the guts of a Magic 8 Ball after you smash it on a misbehaving chlid’s forehead, but darker and inkier, deep black in execution but a shimmering lake at night pallor to it. Jason Voorhees is about to pop up out this bitch in the final 3 minutes.

Sometimes you must seek the future to understand the past. Drinking old coffee stouts is not one such time.

S: The coffee, shockingly, seems to have faded over the 4 years in captivity. There is still this pleasant residual sweetness in the waft that reminds me of a halfway house between boring ass/refreshing irish dry and a full on oatmeal stout. It isn’t quite as sweet as the framework for a milk/sweet stout would make you reach for, and this is a good thing given the fact that the coffee is no longer around to keep things in check. There’s a certain lactose aspect and a saccharine waft to it, and this faded roastiness like a lingering receipt from a strip club; memories of boners past.

T: This is exceedingly thin and sticky sweet in execution. There is an initial taste of light acidic roast that gets your hopes up, then the mochafrap team rolls in with a watery milky whip to close out your dreams. If you have ever had those thin espresso drinks from Illy, you know exactly what this tastes like. This is a light affair, you can sip it casually while being read your rights, nodding in calm repose, morning beverage in hand while they execute the search warrant. There is a lingering sweetness that is like stevia mixed with Hershey’s syrup that is actually more refreshing than it is complex, like basically any Channing Tatum movie.

“COFFEE STOUTS IMPROVE WITH AGE” “CBS IS DRINKING GREAT” “HAVE YOU HAD A 2008 KBS LATELY? MMM”

M: This is incredibly thin and washes the inside of your mouth with a limp wristed mocha sweetness and then ducks out. You can smash this and chain combo these bitches up into the 2 bomber range no problem. KKKKKKILLER COMBO straight Glacius style on the coffee mocha tip. This isn’t free trade shade grown cold brew 49th parallel shit. This is just thin, normal, espresso from a gas station in a nice part of town with a splash of smashed up kit kats mixed in, for the discerning trucker. It is good if not a bit too sweet. I get it, the coffee faded, it’s different now. We all need to move on. I will never be your ex boyfriend and this beer cant be uncoffeed ok. The past is the past, I know how he satisfied you, let’s just drink this stout and not talk about his girth.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and loses a bit on the complexity as a result. No 6.5% stout is really gonna be some Dostoyevsky affair of introspection anyway, unless its a Funky Buddha offering that has been adjuncted into the fucking ground. Should you give up massive whales for this limited/extinct beer? I don’t know, how much do you care about ticks? I gave up 5 bottles for faded ass RUSSIAN RIVER DEPURATION so maybe you aren’t asking the right fucking person. Open this up at Magic City and watch them red bottoms clack clack in Georgian opulence.

Soometimes you must revisit the past, to taste something again, FOR THE FIRST TIME

Narrative: South Dakota was not a bustling hub of progressive gourmands. The State Fair usually offered the newest innovations in deep frying and small plating, most recently deep fried Squeezits, a commodity still on the shelves in old S to the D. A bold enterprise took form in Pierre in the form of small batch single pourovers blended with Macadamia milk. The populace with tucked in flannel shirts and gun racks was not accustomed to seeing $7.00 craft coffee beverages, but the future approached them with a startling alacrity. Pierre Jieusseps cared not for the local plebs and their affinity for Monster energy drinks, his was a plan of purpose aimed at touching the rural hearts and minds of South Dakotans. “Right, but I jes want like, coffee, like, in a pot you know, not these drink made for fa-” one local resident complained as the steam gushed and the hopper tilled beans at $22.00/half pound. Pierre served the decadent 4oz beverage and read the order ticket “KOOTER! Your single press, 2 minute, slow grind, cold brew is now ready!” A sunburned man in a Godsmack t-shirt bewilderedly grabbed his tiny beverage and headed to his child custody hearing.

Southampton Black Raspberry Lambic, The coveted 5 letter acronym: SHBRL, unkillable 5 syllable

November 7, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, another highly sought out 400 bottle release? Business as fucking usual on DDB. After you finish reading these reviews I expect you to go back to other beer blogs with your prolapsed ticker anoos in hand like a tiny pink sock. Everyone loses their shit over this beer, offering massive combos for it, then saying “WELL I WOULD RATHER HAVE SAINT LAMVINUS” when they can’t land it. It is as immutable as the changing of the seasons, butthurt tickers bring the color to the leaves.

New York traders usually give a fair approximation of things since they usually have to drive 6 hours to brewery releases, so what happens when there’s something actually within their state? Does it ball the fuck out with those red bottoms clacking on the Berry Pole? We shall see.

Tried to pour more but this STUPID TIRED HANDS GLASS HIT ITS SURFACE TENSION LIMIT.
Thanks a lot ONLY VOID.

Southampton Publick House
New York, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: Oh shit, not only is there bubbling jelly in your veins upon seeing that picture, but the beer itself is straight up boysenbeery [sic] magenta. File this with those other Lisa Frank beers from Crooked Stave, those banging berry tones, lookin all like a baller ass wine cooler. The foam is mild and crackles away like your bank account at a Slashfiction convention, leaving little behind but sadness. The crazy purple/fuchsia tones borderline on Robey, but don’t fucking say it.

This shit will drop bombs on other fruited sours

S: This is like walking through a Farmer’s Market holding your same-sex lover’s hand taking in the perfect wafts of berries, ripe spring bounty, and redolent with raspberry/blackberry tannins. Nana is leaving the pies to cool in the windowsill, and she used super acidic berries in case you decide to get your Gary Soto on and jack those bitches. There is a depth to this that reminds me of the Funky Buddha Berliners (“oh, those 35 bottle releases everyone got to try, thanks for the descriptor, asshole.”) If you enjoy the waft of CREME FRAICHE ROSE DE GAMBRIUS, this is the purple drank variant with a bit more black cherry and merlot tannins going on beyond just a raspberry, a nice spin on the traditional Fremboisey.

T: I started this bad bitch really cold to see if it had that classic 1 note acidity and, TO MY SURPRISE, still had quite a depth to the tannins and merlot aspects on the frontend, nice oaky produce feel to it that dries endlessly. The real boxer-dropper is when this thing warms up a bit and starts getting heavy handed with that berry, jammy, sticky icky, pie filling meet american wild acidity that is crazy satisfying. Unlike most American Wilds, which can be as one dimensional as a Florida State Communications major, this actually has a lil musk peeking through, something beyond adjunct overload or acid overkill. FUCKING BALANCE IN AN AMERICAN WILD WHAT AM I EVEN SAYING. But seriously, very well done, crushable for days and wont give you upper GI problems like Upland’s acidic extravaganza offerings. This is a vast improvement over those, admittedly very solid, offerings. It is just really fucking tasty across the spectrum, punshing you with a whip gently making you want more, you sissypalate, you like that huh, lick those berry boots, SUB.

I hope you RSVPed to the sticky berry cuddle sesh, bring your footie berry PJs

M: This has a crazy prickliness to it that crackles like fruit pebbles in acidic milk, each sip has this blasting Fanta aspect to it that isn’t exactly an expansive carbonic acid profile, it’s more like a raspberry alka seltzer that cracks and pops along the gumline, pushing that fruit waft to huffing levels. It doesn’t look like a gusher, but it just pumps that C02 in the middle where your face hole is wanting. Also, this thing can really dry your sockets out, bring liver lube like water/old ales to grease your gears. Don’t run your internal components too hard.

D: This is incredibly crushable and the only real limiting factor, other than the fact that is sells for fucking $300 on MBC is that it can be a bit drying if you take a whole bottle to your face. LOL YA RIGHT UR NEVR GONNA DO THAT. But more importantly: CAN I BE A CONDESCENDING ASSHOLE AND STATE THAT ST LAM IS BETTER IN A DISMISSIVE FASHION. Yes and no, if you like being a presumptive prick, St. Lam is equally good but not the same thing. This is something totally different and worth ticking, highly recommended.

Ticking top tier AWA with legit pours, reported: no idea what I am doing.

Narrative: Sheila and Michael had exhausted the gamut of sexually deviant practices to restart their marriage, last Tuesday’s PRODUCE-PLAY was a bit too much for Sheila. “Something about it was unsettling Michael, you know?” Sheila stated as she thumbed the rim of her latte. “What? Oh, the whole boysenberries on my perineum? That was too far? WELL EXCUSE ME I DIDNT KNOW I SIGNED UP FOR A LIFE WITH A LATTER DAY SAINT!” Michael exploded with guests onlooking. Sheila could still taste the Cabernet she gulped prior to give her courage to engage in intercourse with her face in a bowl of blackberries. “Michael, I almost asphyxiated on fruit, it was dangerous,” she added remonstratively while avoiding his glance. “Love isn’t about smashing raspberries all over my breasts. That isn’t love Michael, I think we need to go to a new therapist, one that doesn’t suggest berry sex. No more berry sex Michael.” Michael shook his head ruefully just thinking of all the wasted produce that he had already purchased. His dreams were crushed and preserved concurrently.

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