Tom Tarry is the Beer Czar of the Interwebs

You do not fuck with Tom Tarry. I know you are probably thinking “who in the name of taint sweat is Tom Tarry?” oh, I don’t know JUST THE SWOLEST FLEXER IN THE RESULTS GROUP:


If I have learned one thing recently, Tom Tarry will kick your nutsack inside out and turn it into a nice set of inverted ovaries if you attempt to talk shit on any of his beer events. Last week, FujonTap posted a satirical post calling out shitty beerfests:


In the original post, he used a photo that is ultra-copyrighted, def. not subject to fair use, completely private jpeg that wasn’t even available for viewing by everyone on the entire fucking internet. Except it was. Despite this, Tom Tarry turned off his Scandal marathon and hit the streets for some serious n0x litigation pumps and posted this:



Needless to say, the owner of the company that hosts shitty beer events anomalously has a shitty sense of humor. The congruence is noteworthy. At first blush, you know Tom Tarry is a hard as fuck computer hacker because he tells you that he “took a photograph” of the webpage. I would like to imagine him fumbling for his Jitterbug and flipping open the 1.2mp camera. Maybe that’s why I like Jitterbug as a company:

One bag of Werther's Originals included with each phone.

One bag of Werther’s Originals included with each phone.

Now, I don’t know how to business, or even do event, but I am pretty confident that public relations are a large part of advertising, event planning, or whatever these services are:


I am pretty sure that trying to put a blog owner in a fully nelson and give his cock and indian burn over using an image might not come across favorably for your company. When I saw the Fuj post I was like “alright, he has a point here” but shit got Ray-Bans levels of realness once Tom Tarry entered casting Ultima and legal lawing so hard. It took a normal blog post into an epic litigation cage match, where one of the dudes happens to come across as the adopted school bully with anger issues. Tarry lights up poor old Fuj and notes “You are an embarrassment to the craft beer industry. Fortunately, you have no followers.” Well guess, what, DDB does. In what pundits are calling the most graceful self-effected cockstomp of recent memory, Tom Tarry now has plenty of exposure for his beer events, none of which you previously gave a single fuck about, largely due to the fact that you aren’t some snow stacking mouthbreather n00b in the beer world.

Peep this event game for a second while I prepare to get sued for linking to Tom Tarry’s event:


Alright, that acrimonious ass voice you hear? You can’t fucking turn it off. Isn’t that amazing! Man I wish they would loop this voice telling me exactly what I am already reading. SUCH MARKETING. I am confident that in between getting a bite to eat and listening to a blaring Irish band, I will learn quite a bit about craft beer. This single festival will further craft beer immeasurably. When a stone drunk 61 year old collapses in his Albany apartment and settles in for some Totino’s Pizza Rolls and Duck Dynasty without a single memory of what the fuck he just drank, it’s like the birth of the next Jean Van Roy.

I linked this from this Swedish blog, http://kidapusen424.blogg.no/dagen_i_dag_3.html, and now I am currently facing international warrants for my arrest.

I hope it was worth it.

Sadly, I have to hide behind my blog so I can’t attend February 8th’s tryst at the Armory. I am confident that when someone demands to MEET ME LIKE A MAN FACE TO FACE that the discussions are going to be fruitful and nuanced. But do I wear my three-button coat or tails?

At the end of the day, if your business strategy involves coercion, tacit threats, public shaming, displays of unrestrained anger, insults, and baseless accusations: I need you. Tom Tarry, Dontdrinkbeer is just getting its legs but you are just the type of person I need on board here on the editorial staff. The next time I have to field some dipshit emails from someone telling me my glass wasn’t cold enough, we can just set up an informal mediation conference where you man-to-man the fuck out of them. Show them DDB means business.

Also, all of the foregoing is the opinion of DDB, so before Tom Tarry starts lubing up his fleshlight and dreaming of all the litigation splendor that is going to be forthcoming, his camo jetski he will purchase with the settlement proceeds, and all the fanfare attendant thereto, he should talk to his legal counsel. I am not making any statements of fact about his business other than I feel that he is a tactless labiamouth who makes shitty websites which accurately portray his shitty beer festivals. That’s all.


Since Mr. Tarry doesn't want his photo used, I drew him in MS Paint vomiting on the First Amendment.  Now it is art and therefore protected.

Since Mr. Tarry doesn’t want his photo used, I drew him in MS Paint vomiting on the First Amendment. Now it is art and therefore protected.


@thebruery Wineification, the First Full Legit Review on the Internet, Stompin on your grapes.

Alright, if you are one of the 215 members in the Hoarder’s Society, there was already prejam on your tip for this malty banger. When you went to go pick up your bottles of Sour in the Rye Peaches and saw that “SYRAH BARREL BLACK TUESDAY” you know that pounding in your loins, it was real. This is a 2 per memebership release from the Bruery, no extra bottles sold, no stems no seeds no sticks. 2 fucking bottles. To be honest, I thought this was going to be a bucket of menopausal jizz. Imperial Tart of Darkness meets Lindley Park and some residual Kendall Jackson tannins.

I was dead fucking wrong. This might be the best beer that they made all year and it put me right in my fucking place when I opened it, at the Bruery itself no less. After I posted a brief write up on Friday, 17 ISOs went up overnight. Business as usual in the beer game, monkey see/monkey fucking offers Proprietors. Let’s stomp hard and elaborate on why this isn’t just Black Tuesday with Smuckers poured into it, prepare to be jelly tho.

Store this bottle away from your middle aged stepmom, she will drink this while watching Scandal.  Such a waste.

Store this bottle away from your middle aged stepmom, she will drink this while watching Scandal. Such a waste.

The Bruery, Placentia
15.7% or some shit (markedly lower than BT)
California, Syrah Barrel Aged Black Tuesday

Commerical Hype:
The “wineification” of beer has been a constant topic of discussion these days, so why not just take a step further and blend the two? We took our Black Tuesday Imperial Stout and fermented it along with late harvest Syrah grapes from the vineyards of Los Olivos, from our good friends at both Fess Parker and Saarloos & Sons. We then aged this wine/beer hybrid in French Oak barrels, waiting for the perfect time to bottle it up. The flavor profile is remarkable. Notes of black cherry, vanilla, cinnamon, oak, aged balsamic, port wine and a sherry-like oxidation from the barrels. This beer is like nothing that you have ever tried before.

A: This beer looks nothing short of awe-inspiring. I hate delving into the old Lisa Frank handbook to describe swatches of magenta and deep purples, but this is robey as fuck. There is a plum and dark violet at the edges with light purple foam mixed with a dark roasty center as black as Jude Law’s soul. It clearly picked up an assload of tannins from the barrel and looks like a Cab/Stout hybrid, fucking beautiful ebony queen.

Maroney is 18 now, and this beer is mature enough for her palate.

Maroney is 18 now, and this beer is mature enough for her palate.

S: The waft on this beer is more wine than stout and presents a unique tannic, jammy dryness with a touch of milk chocolate and tootsie roll smashed together. The wine and cocoa cascade over one another like dudes wrestling in a Castro bathhouse. There is a complete dryness to this and oak presence that keeps sticky old BT in check and dials back the sugars in a huge way. If you were one of the complete pussy naysayers who likes to trammel out that old “DIABETTTUSSS” joke you heard in 2012 that is still relevant to you, no beetus to be found. Srs.

Alright, before this shit blows up go toss up your tired ass FT: King Henry offer. Schemes and dreams.

Alright, before this shit blows up go toss up your tired ass FT: King Henry offer. Schemes and dreams.

T: There are dry cab forward notes of currant and blackberry at the outset, middle oak tannic presence like a Seasmoke pinot, light jamminess, thin execution with very little residual sugar presence, the underpinning black tuesday presents a nuanced profile with roast, char, chocolate cherry cordial and a sort of cacao clean finish to the palate. Was not expecting this, very exceptional. I can’t really think of any jokes to pepper this bitch up, it’s just fucking good and I was expecting far less. Shame on me for being an acorn penis.

M: As noted several times above, this is fucking dry but closes with a chocolate and wine stickiness. It is almost more wine than beer in many aspects, and again, it’s not like anything you have ever tried, I shared my only bottle so allow me to step off the hype train. ttot It’s like open mouth kissing a high school freshman and shes all into Nutella sandwiches and you are a creepy early 40s asshole drinking a dry cab, that interplay of lewd activity marries the two in an imperfect union of borderline felonius activity.

D: If you thought old curmudgeonus DDB was uncaring, I shared my only bottle of this with a person I had never met before, from Chicago no less. Old Pow87 loved it and you will too. I guess I shouldn’t be too fucking surprised that one of the four exclusive bottles is amazing when you pay $700 to join a beer club, I just didn’t think it would be this good. If AgentZero were still alive he would give this a resounding 4.1, which is essentially a perfect score. It’s a really good beer, and you probably can stop drinking those same fucking BCBS variants for once and try something new. My 2014 prediction is 19 dipshits in an Ohio backyard will drink this in 31 degree temperature and all agree that DDB was wrong and that no wine or chocolate came through from their meniscus pours. And the world keeps on turning. Happy 2014, suck on your own tits.

This beer is strange, but you secretly get off on it.

This beer is strange, but you secretly get off on it.

Narrative: Marcel Jevouire was a chocolatier with a tawdry, dark fetish. By day he was dipping strawberries and making chocolate ganauche, but when evening set he would pull out his box of spent wine cork and inhale deeply. That sticky grape, his cruel mistress of the night got his dick so hard even kittens claws couldn’t scratch it. The chocolate world was fine for children and pedestrian interests, but it was the wine world at night that got his barrels pumping hard. It was an adult pairing and an interplay of two worlds that only the most decadent Parisian could comprehend. Sometimes he would see a patron looking over chocolate truffles with a corked vintage peeking from their parcel, the tip gleaning that purple through the green glass would make his nipples erect through his mixing apron. Some would disapprove, but it was his own dark world of dry grapes and wet dreams.


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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.



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.

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.

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




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

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.

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.

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.



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

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

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.


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

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

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.

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.


Beer Advocate Announces Bold New Program: Beer Advocate University, Campus Curriculum Aimed at Beer Education

In what some are calling the greatest movement in Beer Education since the establishment of the for-profit Cicerone certification program. Beeradvocate.com founders, Jason and Todd Alstrom, announced early Wednesday morning that, they too, would be entering the world of Beer Academia.

“This is a decision that we have thought long and hard about, and with the massive exodus of some of our most prolific users, we figured now would we be the perfect time to establish a for-profit education system,” said founder, Todd Alstrom while laboriously coding on a Windows ME Pentium desktop.

Pictured above: Preemptively expelled students

Pictured above: Preemptively expelled students

The Brothers announced bold new innovations to the beer world with a full staff and curriculum, with a campus forthcoming. “We intend on obtaining the campus shortly after we finish our mobile app, sometime upwards of 2018,” noted Jason Alstrom, while pensively surveying the menu of a downtown Denver Coldstone Creamery. “One of our first moves will be to send out pre-acceptance letters to our 372,513 users. I know this sounds aggressive, but remember, at least 300,000 of these members are inactive or were dropped completely when our servers failed in January 2012. Running a full-time university surely cannot be more difficult than the strict standards we have set forth over the years at BeerAdvocate.com.”

The program is slated to begin with an 86 unit curriculum that will instruct Beer Advocate users in a wide variety of beer-related topics. Traditional day program tuition is projected to be set at $48,000.00 per year. This sum will be largely divested to the Brothers themselves and beer related trips for the faculty. “It really is a big stride for beer in general. We have always respected beer and I think this new program evidences that fact pretty well,” Todd noted while putting the final touches on the course curriculum for the 4,300 active users who still remain on Beeradvocate.com.

Proposed Campus Map, golf carts provided to avoid prolonged ambulation

Proposed Campus Map, golf carts provided to avoid prolonged ambulation

The courseload consists of 3 seminar classes, each consisting of 9 hour long discussions of strictly pumpkin beers. There also are a variety of elective courses where students are encouraged to discuss hops, hop profiles, and write dissertation papers on endless combinations of “Heady versus Pliny” “Pliny versus Sculpin” “Sculpin versus Zombie Dust” and other sage topics. The history program will feature 24 hour discussion rooms to address the issue as to whether this year’s batch is, in fact, not as good as last year’s batch. The criminal justice program will focus largely on cases of porch-destruction forensics and determining who, in fact, is a bad trader.

In addition to the strict academic program, there will also be voluntary office hours held in the main lecture hall wherein a proctor will hold up a picture of a forthcoming beer and a series of students can chime in loudly whether they will or will not be purchasing said beer. “It really is a critical part of beer culture to maintain a public forum for these things, determining whether or not our students will be purchasing the next batch of Founder’s Breakfast Stout and then vocalizing it loudly. These are important things,” F2brewers noted solemnly.

For those inclined toward economics and the business side of the beer world, there will be seminars for participants to learn the economics of the beer trading world. “Our first goal in teaching economics in the beer framework was to present a total lack of transparency for all concepts” noted resident professor F2Brewers. “For example, let’s say you are unsure if you should trade Parabola, if a student gives you direction in this regard, that student will be promptly expelled,” F2brewers quipped while sketching out some Babylon 5 fan art. “We have controls in place for the first semester wherein the top 1000 scoring students will be promptly expelled and banned from the University. This is a place of learning for mature adults, not a place where someone capriciously executes unwarranted decisions.”

Picture above: hypothetical photo of two proud graduates

Picture above: hypothetical photo of two proud graduates

The student housing for the Beer Advocate University campus is shaping up to be equally compelling with a “NO PARKING ANYTIME” protocol being enforced for all students. “Todd, he loves to tow cars: students, people trapped in inclement weather, it’s kinda his thing. We figured to recreate the monastic conditions of Trappist brewing we would implement these draconian measures on our own student body,” F2Brewers noted in a particularly verbose moment.

After three years and countless hours spent discussing hop profiles and pumpkin beers, Beer Advocate University hopes to engender its students with a sense of pride and reverence for what they have accomplished. “Just think of the look in your grandfather’s eye when you tell him about the hundreds of readily available off-shelf beers that you rated with 100 words or less. There really is no word for that level of pride, to be sure,” Jason noted encouragingly.

The Alstrom Brothers will begin taking tuition payments in the forthcoming weeks and hope that the actual academic program will begin shortly thereafter, without any guarantees express or implied. “It is our school you know, no one is forcing you to go to school, if you don’t like it, just don’t go to our school. However we will keep all your written coursework as our own, obviously.”

The forthcoming academic year is shaping up to be a bubbling success at Beer Advocate University.


1996 Rodenbach Alexander, Keeping Teenagers in the Cellar and Exploiting them Years Later

Let’s just get this out of the way: this is the best Flanders Red that I have ever had. There I said it. Rodenbach Caracterie Rouge was fucking amazing. And Teeeeechnically Oude Tart with Cherries isn’t a Reeealll flanders, right? Even with qualifiers, this is the fucking best flanders out there. Even with close to two decades on this bad bitch it still wilds out, hair in corn rows, shopping at Charlotte Russe not giving a fuck.

This used to be on the white whale list but SpeedwaleJim in his infinite wisdom decide that T25 was more sought than this fucking incredible blast from the past. Go figure.

This teenager is dope because he doesn't listen to One Direction bullshit.

This teenager is dope because he doesn’t listen to One Direction bullshit.

Brouwerij Rodenbach N.V. visit their website
Flanders Red Ale | 5.00% ABV

A: This is class flanders, flandiddidly for sheeze. Popping those ::sigh”” robey tones are like that magical moment when the bills cascade above the laquered floor and the exotic dancer elects to clap those red bottoms. Tickers go hard for those red bottoms. With 17 years on this bitch, still foam, still cream, still cling, still putting commas in the bank. I don’t know what else you could really want when you see shit like this standing tall doing 15 to life still not getting shanked. Fucking beautiful beer, not muddy, not faded on that oxidation tip, but you could crush up that oxy and let Alexander work his 8oz magic.

This beer is a great listener.

This beer is a great listener.

S: God damn this is straight cherries on cherries, even my cherries got cherries. This is maraschino at first but then evolves into an acidic flame and screams like Bieber fans. There is oak, a light dryness, a tangy sweetness like Fruit by the Foot, some red 5 pimpin, earthy and a tad splash of vinegar notes but nothing off-putting. Shirley temple for days on that Littlest Rebel mix. Drop your glow sticks and tongue kiss that Honduran chick rolling hard on molly eating those cherry jolly ranchers, get on that Alexander game.

Dropping holy judgment.

Dropping holy judgment.

T: This is phenomenal in the way it balances a legit cherry sweetness without being sucrets, and a tartness without being an overpowered acid bomb. This wouldn’t talk to the cops, take the charge and still take the years for you holding up hard with the cherries in tow. The oak is legit, it is a bit dry but also has that great tannic presence to round shit out with another level of complexity like a C plot in a Family Matters episode. Some 3J shit.

M: This is sticky but lightly dry at the same time, the cherry is RIP straight rest in pussy. For this many years, it is insane that it has held up this well and the carb is a lil Crystal Geyser crackle like sparkling water that keeps delivering after all this time. Rodenbach keeps that AK on the nightstand shooting out with modern day Flanders letting shells drop. There is a finishing creaminess that coats the back with gentle bubbles like jacuzzi’s at Coachella.

D: This is insuling. How drinkable was this fucking 25cl white wale? I can’t even begin to address this. My erection was visible throughout drinking this bottle, the dogs present were uncomfortable. This has cherries, oak, splishy splashy juciness and keeps you wanting more. I can’t think of an analog to it, which should make sense given its age and pedigree. Again, seek it out but do us all a favor and put your Cherry Rye shit away, the real men are talking.

Better ask someone.

Better ask someone.

Narrative: She sat there day after day, painting landscapes in the Garden at Giverny. Her flowing red gown seemed ill at east in the summer breeze, yet inviting. Each day you would feign the pretence to visit the shores of the recending lakeline, prod about in the muck while wondering what the glowing red countenance had to offer. The air was redolent with bluebell that fateful day you crushed the poppy flowers and closed the distance. So sweet in demeanour you introduced yourself, and were treated to a laundry list of compound curse words that would make a Press Gang blush. So sweet in appearances and introduction, you could take your new baroness anywhere, to the Salons, to the racetrack, to Tinpenny alley to bet on cockfights. She was your patient, yet offensive muse. She likened your grandmother’s face to pachyderm ankles, but you dont care, you love the sweet and the sour that she presents. Your calm demeanor is not enough to introduce yourself: YOU NEED A BALLER ASS MATERIA. You need materia hidden in snow for years, aged to perfection. That smug french asshole, we will see how she feels after you summor the raw power of ALEXANDER.

25 hour tutorial? fuck you.

25 hour tutorial? fuck you.