You ordered Pliny the Younger, you are a beer expert.

I am here at Mohawk Bend thought I would swing by for some Pliny the Younger. The event page said nothing about tickets just that it would be tapped at 6. Turns out all tickets were presold out by 4pm. Pretty fucking tight. They said they have some “left over” at 8pm but nobody got time for that.

I hate going to any beer bar this time of year, it is nothing but level one acorn penis Cicerones with their tired ass friends impressing with comments about maltiness and residual sugars. Suck your own labias. There are plenty of triple iPas out there, each maltose and more fusel than the last. Just because you stunted the fuck out of the crew of BJs doesn’t mean we need some interjecting advice from a dude in a Tommy Bahamas shirt and a Nextel phone. Fuck off.

This dude was like “if you like hops you gotta get row2 man it will show you what simcoe hops are” I was like “oh ok” and ordered a Humulus Lager. he shakes his head and goes “have EVER HAD SIMCOE HOPS!” and he exclaims “fuck man! You come for Pliny and order a lager! You gotta start learning about ales bro! There is a lot other beers out there man”

So tight.



In case you didn’t know, there are currently 2,751 breweries operating and slanging beer on traps and blocks in the United States. This is more than all of the U.S. Breweries back in 1887 COMBINED. A lot of people have rock hard alerections when they hear this statistic and use the figure to point how CRAFT IS BETTER AND LOOK AT HOW FAR WE HAVE COME. The only problem is, think of your local breweries, all of them, not just the baller ass ones, how many of them are turning out things you are excited to drink. I have been to towns where there are a shitload of breweries that roll out the same tired ass kolsch/hef/amber/pale 4 punch all day long and it makes me wonder who told these dudes “hey, you seriously need to open a brewery, there are not enough places doing exactly what you are doing and running in the red right now, take your predictable ass Wyeast beers and pair them with some janky ass pizza, this is an excellent idea.”



I could care less how MANY breweries there are, I would rather hear about how many breweries there are that are actually 1) exceptionally good and 2) innovative. If you don’t have the first part, you don’t get to do the second, Rogue. In San Diego every asshole who can boil extract in a pot thinks he is God’s gift to enzymes and that is just one of many places where assholes reside. What ends up happening is 1) market clutter and 2) non-beer people drink a lot of lackluster offerings and think that’s what you do in the basement all night.

I guess having more options is good, but I have never walked into the 98 cent store and been stoked to see another Shasta variant of Mountain Mist, because I am not a poor needledick who drinks pedestrian offerings. The worst is when a brewery sees that everyone and their autistic half cousin is brewing so they come up with some “Lavender, chapstick, canola oil, hibiscus, pink peppercorn Dortmunder aged on retired marine vessel wood” to try and wow people inside their doors. These beers usually taste like the inside of a nutsack and then I have to deal with regular people’s tired ass allegories about “THIS ONE TIME IN BILLINGS MONTANA I TRIED A DERP SKERP ALE, IT WAS HORRIBLE, THAT IS WHAT YOU LIKE.” All of a sudden I am justifying liking the taste of testicles.

My face when I see another new brewery super stoked about their amber ale

My face when I see another new brewery super stoked about their amber ale

Less mediocre breweries, less shitty beer, or the opposite. I don’t know, I failed Algebra and I eat Totino’s Pizza rolls on the reg.


Alright, you bought some Westy 12, now shut the fuck up.

Hey guys, in case you didn’t know it is 12.12.12, what an awesome day for annoying the shit out of the beer community. If you weren’t sick of seeing raindrop pours of Stone Vertical Epics split between 18 mouthbreathing neckbeards, don’t worry, today is the official Westy 12 brick release too.

Wait what are those? It’s this SUPER RARE BEER MADE BY MONKS YOU GUIZE

So fucking .rar OMG, cant believe it.

So fucking .rar OMG, cant believe it.

I am excited that regular joes in the beer scene are getting to try this quad, but I welcome them to tuck their acorn penises away and be quiet about it. The rest of us who have seen some shit in our day, the Bitzy veterans, the ones who spend blood and shell casings on trade boards, we could give a shit less. That brick is for people who

1) have a fear of Fedex
2) have mantits and disposable income
3) who haven’t taken the time to try Rochefort or St. Bernardus or
4) hip hop moguls with diabetes

The rest of us don’t give a shit. You know why? We are too broke from buying things like Murda’D out Stout, Keene Idea, BA Speedway, Cable Car, BA Wee Heavy, Birth of Tragedy, and other amazing beers that wont be gifted by lazy assholes who wear Tommy Bahama shirts and Nextel phones on their belt buckles.

Granted, Westy IS GOOD, that is well tread ground, I think I covered that shit A WHILE AGO but why no bricks of WESTY 8? does no one give a shit about that beer?

A child develops a learning disability every time you post a picture of beer no one gives a shit about.

A child develops a learning disability every time you post a picture of beer no one gives a shit about.

The only good thing about this release is that maybe that absentee stepdad will give you something hyped up that is actually good, instead of a janky ass bottle of Rogue Maple Fetus Creampie Ale, or whatever.

Oh also, fuck pictures of Pappy 20/23/whatever. Just because you drink beers that came from those barrels doesn’t mean that we want to see your shiteating grin like you know someting about bourbon. If you look like you would consistently fail the mile in P.E., you probably aren’t the target bourbon market.


Rogue White Whale Ale, A Beer Brewed with a Copy of Moby Dick in the Brewkettle

I am not shitting you:

A reading from the book of Hyperonomy.


As though their last foray into Maple Bacon Burned Down Planned Parenthoods was not enough, now they are putting printed paper into the brew kettle to drum up hype. I get it, whales are a trope of the trading and ticking culture. There are tan whales, taupe walez, white wales, and even midwestshelfwalez. At the heart of all wales is usually 1) rarity 2) taste 3) bottle counts or 4) inaccessability. This beer takes a regular beer, adds recycled paper with ink on it and therefore destroys #2.

It is made by Rogue so we know that item #1 is out by default. If you are shipping to BevMo, you can expect n00bsexual traders to offer this up looking for BA Batch 9000 and shit. What about bottle counts? Well this is available online, so let’s just guess upwards of 30,000 bottles. So item #3 is out. On that same point, if you can sit back and order it ONLINE and have it delivered to your house, unless that box says “Etre Gourmet” or “Cascade” on it, it likely won’t be a white wale. This parade of dumb ass adjuncts seems to be the new rage either in this form, or by fruiting base beers that taste like shit to pass them on to an unsuspecting beer nerd populace.

THIS IS NOT A WALE. Giving it pieces of paper will not make it a WHALE

Look forward to your uninitiated normal friends to buy you this garbage and then you have to nod thoughtfully and thank them for their pointed gift. Call me Bitchmale.


Goose Island Bourbon County Vanilla Brand Stout: PART 3 – Revenge of the Midwest Shelfwales

Ah those old 13,000 bottle release shelfwales, they have entered our fair community with panache and aplomb that would make even Balzac blush. This has been a noticeable oversight for quite some time and beer nerds have often asked me why this beer of all the variants was so scornfully cast out of the house like a coffee drinking Latter Day Saint. The simple answer is: this is the worst of the BCBS variants. Now it is still BCBS at heart so that is like saying that the Gallardo is the shittiest lambo; it will still get you some lackluster handjobs. Let’s look at what kinda beans this beer is grinding in today’s review:

Oh shit, the elusive non-standard toaster shot. This is like the BCBVS rookie card up in this mix.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.00% ABV

A: Get ready for some serious Hitchcock twist to this review: IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE BCBS. There are no raw pieces of vanilla or flecks of artisnal beans up in this medium. It is just deep dark murky blackness with minimal lacing, light sheeting and carbonation that phones it in harder than the Miami Dolphins. Not a particularly beautiful beer but, whatever, I AM JUST LOOKING TO LAND A BOOS WITH THIS ALRIGHT.

I feel bad for anyone who drops crazy bottles on this in a trade, you know that feel.

S: This is overridingly sweet, not in that Bruery White Chocolate fashion where you give it a playful shove, like so sweet that you ask it to pull over so you can get out. This has the roast and charming marshmallow meets oak profile with coy little chocolate peeking downstairs at mama bourbon wrapping presents, then holy fuck, Papa Vanilla comes home and starts making declarative statements about how he pays that bills and no one respects him. This is just sweet sticky vanilla extract overload that ends up coming across less like an Oreo/Coffee/Chocolate treat, and more like the lipsmackers lip balm from all those chicks you weren’t making out with in 9th grade.

T: This starts out pretty awesome as BCBS is wont to do, then vanilla jumps with its sweet cloying claws like the T1000 getting dragged behind what would have been a pleasant stout journey to Skynet. There’s a chocolate and coffee presence and vanilla adds this Torani syrup quality like drinks from Starbucks that prevents everyone from getting laid, just beanblocking. This beer seriously makes me just want a regular old BCBS and to leave this sticky sweet interloper out of things, a boy can dream.

This beer tries too hard and ends up coming out as a lesser product as a result. JUST BE YOURSELF BCBS, WE LIKE YOU FOR YOU.

M: This has a generous coating and leaves a deep lingering roast, char, sweet milk chocolate and guess who is riding shotgunning, fucking Vanilla, messing with the radio controls making you listen to Static X and other shit you don’t need or want. I am not saying this is worlds worse than even ::gasp:: BRAMBLE, but what I am saying is that, it would have been better if what makes it so desired was left out. No one is pining after megan Fox because she has toe thumbs, its just something you put up with for the rest of the package.

D: This is less drinkable than every other variant and as it warmed I wish I shared this with someone. Again, this is not a bad beer, it is still BCBS at heart, but you just wish it would cool it with the Baskin Robbins sticky sweet overload. The vanilla is distracting and the types of things that this beer is commanding at this point is downright confusing to me, but then again, toottoot shelfwalez only get more rarerer and not less rare, no walez on the train, mixed metaphor leaving the station. vrroooooom.

Disagree with the midwest cadre about one of their crown jewels? Fuck the police.

Narrative: “Ok here he comes, he’s walking up the drivewa- oh no, his cousin Nigel Beansington is with him, everyone get down get ready to yell surprise!” All of Mark’s friends hid in his small one bedroom apartment and could smell Nigel’s sickeningly sweet DKNY APPLE cologne as he entered the room. “AND SO I TOLD THEM IT WOULD BE OBVIOUS TO YOU THAT THEY WERE PLANNING A SURPRISE PART-” “SURPRISE!” the crowd groaned in unison. Nigel had ruined things again. He was sweet enough and it was hard to fault his blissful ignorance but he just always ended up in places that he did not belong. “Ya see? Told ya, surprise party, obvious right?” Nigel quipped and pushed a finger into the uncut birthday cake and ate a dab of frosting. “EWW BUTTERSCOTCH frosting, what is this a COSTCO, oh KIRKLAND, ya KIRKLAND means Costco cake.” The party universally exhaled and reflected how this overpowering asshole ruined what would have been an incredible affair.


Foothills Brewing Company, Barrel Aged Sexual Chocolate, ERMAGERDD PERPY VAN WANKLE BERRELS

Alright, barrel aged stout week continues with yet another top 100 imperial stout aged in NONE OTHER THAN PAPPY VAN WINKLE BARRELS. The catch here is that, like the disappointing BA People’s Porter, they spent a hot minute on the barrels. A hot 4 months, to be exact. By my BA standards, that is barely what you serve for repeat domestic violence charges. I want some straight up lifers when it comes to ba stouts. Anyway, people love this beer, I am not a huge fan, but who am I to deny you my erudite take on this revered libation? Let’s take a look at this blacksploitation ass bottle

I have been informed that the south is hot, intolerant, sticky, and humid. Pass the barrel aged stouts please.

Foothills Brewing Company
North Carolina, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 9.75% ABV

A: This follows in the same vein as my review of Great Lakes barrel aged Blackout Stout in that it is incredibly thin for an imperial stout. Think Czar Jack levels. I am not sure if this makes stoichometric sense, but, I feel like barrel aging this beer actually made it considerable thinner. The sheeting is minimal and the carbonation is reluctant as a C student in madrasa. The look is a nice pentel ink black with a slick shine to it like boot black.

You take pappy van winkle barrels and expect some epic shit, then you realize it has a tiny japanese school girl hanging off of it. That caption really ran into some problems.

S: This has a great nose to it, and is probably my favorite part of this beer. I enjoy the chocolate, sweet cocoa notes, you get some light oak, there’s a touch of macaroon and butterscotch to it, but again this is all set forth on the stage of immense chocolate. Again, I feel that even that aspect from the base beer has been ratcheted back, for obvious reasons. I am not sure that the tradeoff for the brief jaunt in a barrel was really worth it. Then again, this beer usually hovers around 1000 bottles, so obviously the clamoring masses know better than I.

T: There is a light sweetness of coffee and some fleeting notes of caramel bourbon, similar to 4 roses treatments. Again, the whole affair is very brief and imparts a very gentle introductory and impartially administered hand to the BA Stout crowd. If you are coming off the heels of BCBS or something like that, this is going to seem downright sessionable. There’s a light cola aspect to it, but the thin tepid nature just doesn’t deliver huge on either a chocolate cake or illiterate gold miner bourbon aspect either. It’s like when Super Mario Bros 2 came out and everyone was like “wait wat.”

With enough time in a bourbon barrel, amazing things can evolve and develop.

M: Just rehash all I said above and use your imagination for once. This beer is thin, crisp, lightly slick, and doesn’t hang around for very long. This is by no means a bad beer and I welcome variations in execution, but this just doesn’t suit my particular stout needs. Insert innuendo re: thick, black, sticky, what have you.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable. The 22oz bottle drinks like a 6% import stout and this beer soars in this category. However, the last release was what, 1200 bottles? So this isn’t exactly like Stone IRS where you can just chain combos together for maximum points. If you are into sweeter BA stouts like the Eclipse treatments and that sorta jazz, this will probably be up your alley, but for all the trouble associated with trading for it, the base beer is arguably superior.

This is just a gentle lil stout that wants some malty cuddling and a nice home. Does not bite, has all shots, is housebroken.

Narrative: The Baltimore police department had spent the greater part of their annual budget on this risky gambit, but they finally developed the ultimate weapon to counteract west Baltimore heroin sales. “ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE,” the monitor boomed from the center compartment of the R.A.V.E.N. 3400. “Very good Raven, now walk forward-” Carl Kensington commanded into the laboratory microphone. The 4 months of development had taken officer Jennings from a comatose beat officer into a highly sophisticated crime fighting instrument of martial law. “Engaging BRIAN BILLICK SEQUENCE-” the robot boomed and staggered forward, 3 steps forward, 4 steps back, on questionable terrain. Dr. Kensington chewed his glasses pensively in what could only be deemd the most cliche manner possible. “It seems the original AI has fused with officer Jennings personal concerns, WE HAVE MADE A MONSTER.” The mechanical abomination began on a rapid mechanize tirade stating, “Afterastellar2006season/improveuponthe13-3record…injuries…poorplay_plagued..2007seasonintheAFCNorth$$cellar…disappointing5-11record…humiliating22-16overtimeloss…previouslywinlessMiamiDolphins-” The scientists could not get this din to stop. They had taken the magic of officer Jennings and imparted a strange sophistication upon him that no one asked for. May God have mercy on the West Baltimore projects.


Evil Twin Brewing, Imperial Biscotti Break, It’s a Coffee Drink for Hipsters that Weight More than 135 lbs.

Man, if I were a hophead in my degenerate beer development, I would be pissed off at this site. What with Wale Week- NO IPAS, then two stouts, it’s like, man what’s a guy gotta do to get his hop cones blasted? Well suffer through, today’s gem is a decadent coffee treat from Evil Twin, not YOUR evil twin, he doesn’t brew beer, he is just barred from coming within 1000 feet of schools and parks.

Phase one: take your eharmony girlfriend out for coffee, phase two: present this libation, phase three: Babylon 5 Marathon.
Let her explain that to her pretentious friends.

Evil Twin Brewing
American Double / Imperial Stout | 11.50% ABV

A: The appearance takes the coffee note to new levels of Seattle hysteria, deep frothy mocha whip no shot side of upside down malt caramel, is the most concise description of the pour. The darkness is deep and complex like Alan Thicke’s character on Growing Pains. The lacing is whimsical and adorns the glass with streamers for the coffee baby shower.

This beer is dark, but adorable, complex, but dangerous. Best enjoyed young.

S: There’s a deep coffee note with a sweetness on the backend that, as the eponymous beer notes, is like deconstructed biscotti. For those of you who in the south who do not have biscotti, it is a stale bread that pretentious people dunk into overpriced coffee. Think Dunkin Donuts, and then the converse. There’s a sweet vanilla, sticky almond meets hazelnut, acidic coffee with a mocha finish that imparts a sort of cocoa dryness. I am a bit wary on the sweet notes but, hey, I once ate an entire Sbarro pizza and fell asleep on some Macy’s beds, so moderation is hardly my strong suit.

T: There is a fantastic interplay between the coffee and the rise to power of the almond armada. The warring factions represent different fealty to the overriding crown of the Church of Stout. Surprisingly, this war of attrition results in savage interbreeding between coffee and vanilla, the nutty aspects couple nicely with the acidic finish from the coffee, and the sweet chocolate and baker’s chocolate nod approvingly at the new feudal stout empire.

Coffee and high alcohol content? This may take me to places that I am not ready for.

M: The mouthfeel coats aggressively and toes the line that Huna and Abyss so admonishingly drew into the sand. I would say medicinal in its sheeting, however, this would be medicine for someone like the person who works the Customer Service desk at Walmart: not quite legitimate medicine. The sweetness eventually overpowers as this thing warms and, while watching the Bachelorette, the sweetness was overriding and unpalatable, also the beer became undrinkable BA ZING!

D: As long as you keep this below 55 degrees, it washes away nicely and imparts huge flavor, however, once the Torani syrup demons are awakened from their century long slumber, this biscotti turns into Bicotivrex, vile libation destroyer and sorrow harvester of palates from the netherrealm. So, serve…serve it cold is basically…that’s what I am trying to say.

If someone can’t find a beer, here’s usually how the discussion goes. I was lucky to have someone in Washington who cares about me help me out. CARING, pass it on.

Narrative: Maxwell House stock had been in a freefall ever since meth hit the market. It wasn’t that people didn’t want Maxwell House, they didn’t, and never really did. The problem was that the poorest of the poor, riddled with vice and an abysmal view of the future, now simply smoked crank to wake up for their degrading jobs. “How can we recover from this newest batch, Jennings?” Wilfred Maxwell IV asked the boardroom as he stared out over the Tarrytown, New York skyline. “Well, the Samoan spiker vanilla blend has been covering the spread in-” “NO JENNINGS, the newest batch of meth. Maxwell House can’t take another potency renovation, people know that we have never been good to the last drop, must less the first, they just want to get high-” he surveyed the hopeful faces surrounding the rich mahogany table, sipping bourbon, enjoying biscotti at their leisure in Brooks Brothers suits. “THEY JUST WANT TO GET HIGH!” Mr. Maxwell IV exclaimed. Jennings rocked back in his supple calfskin leather chair and nodded knowingly. The chemists began cooking down the horrible beans into synthetic caffeine crystals. The dank sticky shards broke like brown stained glass after the first batch was completed. Guillermo, the local day porter of the facility, was asked to try the new product. Ironically, Guillermo was already on meth to face his horrible employment prospects. The coffee glass burned deep and hard like almond and vanilla shards, but it could be worse, he could have been a P’zolo tester.