Sante Adairius Chavez, Simpleton, Longest night: ambrosial central California heaters.


Base Chavez: toasty char forward porter that is the cleanest finish on a robust porter this side of Everett. highly sessionable akin to Edmund Fitzgerald, that hard water profile gives a great crisp compliment to the roasted malts, awesome mouthfeel.

Longest Night: nose of zombie dust with that huge citra bouquet, taste of hoppy birthday with a huge mineral resinous presence and a nova II thin body. Nose is all tangelo, tangerine, pineapple, classic citra fist, taste swings closer to the realm of Hoppy Birthday, clean and resinous albeit lacking the exciting fruit profile present in the olfactory.

Simpleton: amped up version of the foregoing, yet strangely higher in drinkability and with a completely different hop bill. The turbid look is alluring with a radiant yellow core. Very enjoyable, lacking a bit of creaminess in the mouthfeel that I usually jones for in the realm of these “dirty” IPAs, but that’s the alkaline profile of the water, not a misstep in the brewing IMO.

Good things in the pipes from these guys.


@columbusbrewing Bodhi DIPA, Touch that Bodhi, Get All Up in the Bodhi, Put my Bodhi inside You

Alright, we can all agree that Christopher Columbus was a complete shitbag, right? I mean ok, he rediscovered a trade route, committed genocide of thousands/millions of natives, sold Carribeans into slavery, we all know about that; but he also probably never brewed a DIPA. If you do all that horrible shit and then never offset it with at least a quality beer, then, that’s just babystomp levels of wrong. Columbus Brewing would be the inverted analog to the imperialist mariner: solid land locked people with no boats, no imperialistic aspirations, and they brew a fucking amazing DIPA. I saw this lil elusive minx pop up on the old school top 100, back when the mics used to mean something, 95 was meant you were the shit, now a 99 is like the least you get. Mad props to BlacknYellow for sending me this sticky banger. Anyway, this is fucking amazing and the best hoppy offering to come out of the midwest in a long time. Sorry Head Hunter. This is vastly superior. This one is for you Sendsilk, stop complaining and let’s get up in that Bodhi.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Columbus Brewing Company visit their website
Ohio, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This is just beautiful. It isn’t that orange julius turbid mish mosh that HF presents, but it isn’t that deep gold SRM from west coast offerings, nor the ugly brassy east coast maltbombs: it is it’s own aesthetic. Looking at it, you wouldn’t think 8% abv DIPA, it looks like a tamer sort of Zombie Dusty affair. The carb held up well and there is light cling and little retention, but you didn’t put this hop porn in for the foamy storyline. You just want those hop oil money shots all in your mouth. Triple ropers.

Once this growler was opened I couldn't keep my mouth up off it

Once this growler was opened I couldn’t keep my mouth up off it

S: This has a fantastic floral meets citrus boquet that doesn’t dominate on either profile. At first it is a bit aserose and you have sad feels, but then that grapefruit comes through like pith on the backend lightening up the bitter Coen Brothers hop profile with a bit of Raising Hopizona. Jamean.

T: Again, the pine needles are swept gently into a corner with some smashed lemon and yard trimmings in a beautiful medley that is distinctively grassy, resinous, but bright enough to maintain that complexity. It is the halfway house between shitty east coast malt bombs and simplistic refreshing west coast citrus profiles. The ABV is masked impeccably, you wouldn’t even know there were bricks stuffed up in the spare moving mad weight up in this whip. Pine cones soaked in grapefruit puree, bottled with unfiltered sunlight. Straight ratchet and worth the hype.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

M: This is exceedingly thin and all the better as a result. In racing they say “if you want to make your car do everything better, reduce the weight” and that is essentially what is going on here. This is a stripped down malty 240z with a fucking 350 of hops dropped into the chassis. I am not sure if this amount of resin to citrus ratio is street legal, but it def gives southeast asian kids erections. It washes away clean with an almost dry finish due to the oily bitterness that leave you with little recourse besides getting face down in it for another taste.

D: I killed this entire growler on a weeknight and wondered just what the fuck happened the next morning. My Roomba looked on in cold disapproval and swept up all the smashed goldfish from the entryway. This will get you on that Mossberg swerve to the point where, who knows, maybe you might get banned from a local establishment and/or beer website. Anything is possible with this minx. Highly recommended Boneyard/Alpine level shit. Seek this one out, srs.

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90's extreme intensity

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90’s extreme intensity

Narrative: Dwayne Clark knew that his grill was illfitting and he didn’t care to address the issue. The lack of balance was his calling and the street youth loved him for it. In urban circles this was an issue of ultimate reproach and he instead chose to clench his bicuspids defiantly. “What type of cheesy gordita crunch would you like?” “mhm.” He just felt the pang of knowing that his vestigial dental accessory was somehow subpar to the most luxurious on the block, but ornate and amazing in execution. “I shed, jush a regular scheesy gordita, crunsh.” He gritted his jaw knowing they were mocking his ostentatious purchase, the precious stones obfuscating his speech. It was sheer excess, to be sure. WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO? TAKE IT OUT? That is simply not an option when you come so close to regal greatness. No sir, he resolved to show this grill in all of its majesty, despite the “minor” problems that he may encounter on a day to day basis. Dwayne would tend the danky vines in his grandmother’s basement and wait for the day that Interscope saw the true genius behind his radiant flows.


@Hillfarmstead Double Citra, Double Down That Citra and Juicy J Gonna Pop It Like Wet Paint

It’s been a minute since we went back to Vermont to see what those boys are up to in Greensboro. Now that Citra is a household hop right next to the Ajax and the baking soda, let’s go way back and enjoy this top 100 banger with a fresh liver. This beer would previously post up with Abner and Double Galaxy and push kids around the school yard, showing them how hops is done. Does it still bully the fuck out of newcomer DIPAs? We shall see in today’s revew. WE SHALL SEE.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: You already know how this cow eats the cabbage before you even pop that growler. You get an eggshell white foam that is just pumps out ropes and ropes of lacing like Peter North. Google him after you get home from work. The turbid borderline farmhouse look to this beer lets the consumer know two things 1) pasteurization is for playaz who dont be getting it and 2) that milky secret holds all the hops in the substrate like a male seahorse and all his spawn. The carb is indefatigable and crackles endlessly, taunting you, letting you know no one asked you to Sadies, reminding you of substandard DIPAs of the past and the messy hop IEDs of the future.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

S: Some other breweries choose to buttress citra hops with something like oh I don’t know cascade, simcoe; you know something to give structure to the acidic citrus aspects. This beer just says fuck all that and goes ham on the citrus notes. It is like a Farmer’s Market of tangerines, mandarin oranges, clementines, and nectarines. There is a light honey at the backend and some Grand’s biscuits going on just to make old Grammy smile at this hop builder straight flexing its traps.

T: This follows the nose pretty congruently and makes you feel as though you may have tread this path before in Society and Solitude, or perhaps to a lesser extent Abner. You get a lil aserose poking its head out of its knothole with the first sign of spring, then this turns into a straight up Gushers/Fruitopia commercial of juiciness and everyone is getting mouthfucked with oranges, lemon zest, cuties, and every manner of citric acid. This isn’t a fruiter berliner sort of acidity though, it is like a TOOL fan’s room with a stick dankness of oils and a bright glow of a blacklight hop cone poster. It is bright, bold but almost menacing in the way it just pushes your palate down into a swivel chair and demands the access codes.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

M: This is hoppy and cirtus forward to the point of being drying along the gumline. If you have ever had beers that go hard on the Tomahawk/Warrior you know what I mean but this is a little different. It isn’t exactly a resinous bully that tears up your bicuspid walls, because there is almost a sort of yogurty creaminess to it. It’s like a hop gangster who flips a coin, shoots your friend and lovingly puts its arm around your gumline. Shit starts popping off in all kinds of directions like Hmong family reunion.

D: This is almost frustratingly drinkable. The 750ml swingtop is a mockery for this beer and shouldn’t even be an offsite option. It is akin to a single song dance at a strip club when you know you are gonna be tipping up. Once it is gone, you feel like that nursing student crawling around the floor collecting the one dollar bills, dancing your way through school. The carbonation just adds to the problems because the crack and substantial coating in the creaminess lends itself to foregoing contemplation of what you are enjoying. One minute you are just contemplating going to see Pain & Gain, the next minute Double Citra is gone and you are asking to speak to a lawyer.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Narrative: Angus T. Jones was sick of this shit. He walked around the backlot and bit into a ripe tangerine and looked over the spec script for the 14th season. Two and a Half Men wouldn’t be the same without the half man, now almost two decades old. “Get my agent on the phone, I am sick of this fucking nonsense,” Angus called out to an associate producer and cast a Newport onto the pavement. At first things were sweet, when he was younger he was content with mediocrity, but this was too much. “Another fucking episode about me not fitting in at school? I am 19 fucking years old. The writers need to get their shit together!” he screamed into the DP’s voicemail. In the beginning it was easy to forget all of the mediocrity, which folded into itself like the membranes on a mitochondria. However the acidity had been punched up, his sticky distemper was affecting Ashton Kutcher and other serious artists on the set. “How about this, my character goes to the fucking Army? Ok? Or, I dont know, get an alien or an adopted kid. Do what shitty shows do when they become worse and worse to the point that Nascar fans wont watch them anymore. Yes, yes I did see the final season of Family Matters, do that shit,” he called into his iPhone 5 while texting one of the hot skeezies on iCarly. He was more acidic than he was deep, but he was more profound than others in his position. Angus Jones was an acerbic asshole that people could never seem to get enough of.


Lagunitas Sucks IPA: Making Poor People Feel Relevant In The Beer World Every Day

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Lagunitas. They are like the gateway drug dealer that hooks up 7th graders and people with ignorant ass palates and gets them into a seedy underworld of hard shit. I remember my first Hairy Eyeball, or trying Maximus and feeling like I could take on six cops wearing a wife beater. Shit is exhillarating. The only annoying thing about Lagunitas and their excellent, widely distributed, inexpensive beer, is the wake of poor assholes and haters that is leaves in its wake. You can’t pop a bottle of Citra or some Double Sunshine without some asshole reminding you WELL LAGUNITAS IS ALMOST AS GOOD AND I WILL JUST DRINK THAT LOL I CAN JUST BUY THAT AT THE STOER. That’s nice, when I am doing sick burnouts in my Lambo, I don’t need someone in a Yaris telling me about gas mileage and how you dont even need to be able to go 210 mph. No one is getting dome because of Lagunitas, and if I had a blog full of excellent offshelf shit, I would be just like the 3409863509865 shitty you tube channels out there. Weak pandering to breweries is well covered, people come here to watch it all burn.

Awesome offshelf shit, dont worry, walez will be returning.  Gotta mix it up like v12 and raw.

Awesome offshelf shit, dont worry, walez will be returning. Gotta mix it up like v12 and raw.

Lagunitas Brewing Company
California, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 7.85% ABV

A: This is a damn pretty DIPA, it looks clear and gentle enough to fool some into thinking it is just a beefy single IPA, but I digress. This doesn’t take a deep brassiness, nor does it embrace a turbid complexity, it is just as the BJCP gods intended, dead on deep yellowing with medium carbonation and legitimate lacing. I don’t know what else to say really, Actraiser was a pretty bad ass game, but it was no Chrono Trigger.

even shitty high school musicians can land this shelf wael.

even shitty high school musicians can land this shelf wael.

S: This is again, just awesome in execution and it almost pisses me off at how innoculous it dives into the fold. This isn’t exactly a citrus bomb, nor is it deep and resinous, it finishes with a bit of both and closes with a honey aspect that is fantastic but almost loses its individuality in the process. You know how Hyundai always rolls out these slightly jankier looking versions of Benzes and Beamers? This is kinda like that, you know it isn’t as rare or crazy, but it is probably nice inside and way cheaper. So who wins? I don’t know, No Fear tells me that the man with the most toys still dies.

T: This lacks a huge tropical citrus forward assault that I love, but still kinda sidesaddles the west coast and east coast IPA where it has a substantial maltiness but also a mid range alpha acid hop bill with lots of C hops, Chinook, Cascade, Cunt. There is a slight honey finish to it and a resin quality that reminds me of Bell’s Two Hearted meets Sculpin. Again, jack of all trades, kinda master of one, namely being a shapeshifter i nthe DIPA world. This is the Mystique to the Colossuseses tearing shit up in the DIPA world. Under the radar, consistent and deadly.

skrew raer beers

skrew raer beers

M: This is sticky at the end and sweet at the outset, with a bunch of lupulins in the middle. It is like a sick half pipe of hoppy goodness, doing sick grabs and gumline grinds. There is a finish to it that is kinda like fernet brancha. I have a hard time either knocking or praising this beer because it sticks so close to the numbers, splits on 16, hedges safe bets, no risks, doesn’t bang chicks without rubbers.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and god damn it if that abv isn’t hidden in a guillie suit just sniping sorority girls and n00b ass beer drinkers alike. The 6 paack format is a great offering and the bombers end up being like what, $2.75 a piece when all things are considered. This is unquestionably a great beer. This is no Heady Topper, this is not Citra, nor is this Abner. This is not in the same realm, economically and taste inclusive. No one buys a WRX and expects to rev on GT-Rs, but this is still a blast and fun to carve up your liver with. I highly recommend this if you see it. Also, it is better than that overrated ass COAST Boy King. So there is also that.

This is an instant classic beer that just wants to watch the wale world burn

This is an instant classic beer that just wants to watch the wale world burn

Narrative: Every night the players graced the floorboards gracefully and the shows went on flawlessly. The unseen element was Jarvis Deletrix, present eevery night, filling every role with extreme discretion. He would run the lights one evening, be in costuming the next, some nights even subbing in as a lead character in a Noel Coward play: THE MAN DID IT ALL. Jarvis was unquestionably talented, lurking in the shadows, ensuring that production quality was top notch. However, no one would ever lavish roses at his feet. Old Mr. Deletrix was far too approachable, hardly becoming of a star. His humble nature, good humor, and genial expressions made him loved by all, revered by few. It was not uncommon for him to roll up into a bar after a play and start making out with a girl with retainers, because she needed it most. He was that type of philanthropist that no one would celebrate, but life would be scarcely worth living to the teeming masses without his interference.


Hill Farmstead Society and Solitude #4, If You Haven’t Seen Parts 1-3 You Might Not Be Able to Follow

I know, I know. In my Fear and Trembling review I said I would ratchet back on the Hill Farmstead reviews, but a DIPA this good and the generosity that I have unexpectedly incurred warranted some sticky new hop beats for the club. Can’t leave hops alone the game needs me.

If you don’t like drinking REAL juice, and Wakefield Berliners are too nutritious for you, this will do JUST FINE.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This has that classic Hill Farmstead milkiness to it with a creamy opaque orange glow that is turbid and frothy at the same time. There’s a ton of sticky lacing with generous carbonation that stacks and layers like US Weekly magazines in a hoarder’s home.

The number of amazing beers from this brewery is too damn high. Add some filler once in a while, brew a red ale or something.

S: The smell is incredible with notes of tangelo, grapefruit rind, tangerines, and blood orange. The pine aspect is muted but oversees and doesn’t micromanage, the sign of a true leader. The subordinate malts seem light and support the olfactory profile like a keystone in a Gothic cathedral.

T: This has a nice citrus aspect to it that is lighter than Abner in the fistfulls of pine needles, the citrus aspect is unmistakably well done and starts to infringe upon the classic Citra taste that I have become so indoctrinated to. The orange rind lingers as though there was pithy orange peels tossed into the boil, but I somehow know that they did with with no adjuncts, Vermont rolls au natural with a nice supple hop rack.

Unlike your horrible Comcast internet, this beer has always got you covered.

M: The mouthfeel has a dry oiliness from the hops that imparts an acidic bite and lingers, handing out fliers to the exiting taste buds. The entire affair is incredibly pleasant and the 750ml growler seems inexplicably too small as a result. The greatest problem in this review would be separating this amazing DIPA from their other incredible entries, Double Citra, Abner, Galaxy, the list goes on. I would say that this is better than Abner and Double Citra, but falls just short of Galaxy single hop. It is robust but presents a great diversity that keeps it memorable. At this point though, it is like selecting WHICH Lambo best expresses your personality.

D: This is exceptionally drinkab- oh hey the growler is gone. It is just that easy. 8% has never been so fleeting, the citrus kiss is a deep acidic wateriness that clips along like a Jetski with two naked Ford models on the juice ocean.

This brewery will keep rolling out awesome DIPAs, I have a pretty good idea that is what is going on.

Narrative: Blammo Corp. was in dire straights and the new toy line was simply not working. The citrus acid battery only served to get nerdy kids beat up at school and prevented home school kids from getting laid. Finally Bill Walmsly had hit rock bottom and pulled over to a roadside fruit stand after the pre-Chapter 11 meeting. He sighed and kicked a rotting strawberry and sat watching the lemon yellow sun sinking into the horizon. “Ahn sometimes…chu know you jas…see the son and es like…naranja.” Bill looked up and saw a sage old Bolivian man polishing a tangelo on his worn Tommy Hilfiger overalls. “Ahn sometimes…you jos say, I don’t need material theengs, es solo importante a ser feliz.” Mr. Walmsly nodded and listened to the broken English of this migrant labor Erasmus and rubbed his chin. “If we can convince kids that they don’t need toys…WE WILL MAKE A KILLING.” The following Friday, Sabino handed out a ripe pluot to each of the board members and continued a bilingual phillipic which seemed to last hours, “en see, chu give kids all the fruitas, and they say, well why can’t we ride the bus then, maybe you don’t need a car when estas dieciseis?” The members looked around confused, Sabino had failed to captivate their minds with his pro-citrus resignation from establish society. Mr. Walmsly injected “and on that note, we will now be selling mango flavored action figures coated in cayenne pepper and grapefruits with fireworks inside of them.” Old Bill had done it again and saved the company from certain ruin. He never forgot that stoic old Sophist, Sabino. A gorgeous marble bust was placed in the grand foyer of Blammo Corp.


Russian River Pliny the Younger, Beer Predators Always Seem to Go After the Younger Ones

Boy oh boy, have we really come to this? A week ago we were drinking Rolling Rock and now we are sipping on the world’s highest ranked beer with careless abandon. Let’s rattle off some facts about this legendary (triple?) DIPA. First off, they don’t even bottle this beast because it single handedly submarined the Greek economy. Second, it is only available around groundhog day at a few choice locations, and only on draft. In fact, this beer is in an elite cadre of Draft Only No Growler (DONG) beers. So grab your dongs and let’s see if the hype is worth it in today’s epic review, written in dactyllic hexameter, JK!

When you see Pliny, especially in Younger form, YOU DOUBLE FIST. No questions asked.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 11.00% ABV

Here’s what the brewery has to say about this elusive hopmonster:

“Pliny the Younger, the man, was Pliny the Elder’s nephew and adopted son. They lived nearly 2,000 years ago! Pliny the Elder is our Double IPA, so we felt it was fitting to name our Triple IPA after his son. It is almost a true Triple IPA with triple the amount of hops as a regular I.P.A. That said, it is extremely difficult, time and space consuming, and very expensive to make. And that is why we don’t make it more often! This beer is very full-bodied with tons of hop character in the nose and throughout. It is also deceptively well-balanced and smooth.”

A: It looks like bright, translucent, molten brass with a deceptive clarity to the sheen. The carbonation, at least every time that I have had it, has been minimal and presents a hilarious little pencil lead head to garnish your hop-torn mouth. Did you really come into Pliny the Younger to look at it though? If so, maybe you are doing it wrong. Maybe Pizza Port just didn’t clean their glasses correctly, or maybe people from South Carolina take Boyking reviews too seriously, who IS TO SAY?

On the left, Pliny the Younger, on the right, immature craft beer palate.

S: This smells like the inside of a 8th grade stoner’s backpack. It has a deep resinous pine character that lends to a poplar, aserose, maple, and a sweetness that reminds me of the toasted orange rind garnish you commonly find on old fashioneds. However, as this beer warms, it lets some of the fruits loose to amble around the verdant meadows, and we are all edified as a result.

T: This has much more malt than it’s “older” bretheren and some people prefer that complexity. The bready and cornbread sweetness is damn near mandatory to buttress the hop bill that they have in this hop Basilisk, turning beer nerd pants to stone. The taste echoes the pine and foresty adventures of the nose but presents a new hat trick that reminds me of eating sweet rolls after a long day of raking pine needles. The creaminess of the taste really masks the ABV of this staggering giant and the entire interplay is really something to tip your hat to in the street, downright genteel.

This beer is a reason to lovingly long for Groundhog and Valentine’s day. A sweet solace to the horrible month of February.

M: The mouthfeel, despite the low carbonation, boasts a huge hop profile that works in tandem with the malts to continue the project that Pliny the Elder started, but takes it to absurd new heights. To some, this (D)IPA might come across as a new style altogether, shouldered with Ephraim, Devil Dancer, Knuckle Sandwich etc. however, this is deep down as Imperial as the Chinese shipping empires, and the hops resonate like a street basketball game.

D: Reviews like these are always tough to do, first because I have very little constructive criticism to coast the jokes upon due to the fact that the beer is just too damn good. Then again, I don’t want to knock this beer on accessibility alone, since that is an intentional decision. This is dangerously drinkable and you can’t help but wonder why others have failed to attempt this ambitious undertaking. Is it worth seeking out? Absolutely. Is this beer worth standing in line for 90 minutes and being shut out? No. Is it worth belonging to a mug club or stupid passport promotion to drink? Absolutely not. Is it worth buying $50 of charity raffle tickets only to lose on all of them and be denied access to this beer? No.

Is this one of the best T/D IPAs out there? The answer is a resounding “ya bruh.”

HEY LISTEN, I know you want PtY, but could you not post in forums about getting it in bottles? It makes you look like a shithead. Thanks.

Narrative: The boats bobbed softly in the bay of Naples and Pliny dipped his quill assiduously into the inkwell and felt mild vibrations through the legs of the Poplar table. “I must write in haste, for I fear that I have gone too far in my botanical pursuits this time.” The grumble of the dormant volcanic god, Pompeii, rumbled in the east. “In my quest for taxonomy and discovering different strains of the ‘wolf plant’ I appear to have cross-polinated in a manner repugnant to the soil itself.” The tremors became steadily more severe and Pliny’s hands shook with anticipation. “I seem to have created a strain of hops that defies belief, the root system is so charged with ‘aether’ that is has shifted the contents of the lower core, the oils are just too powerful!” The dirt-floored home shook violently and cast the aging octagenarian to the floor, a copy of Aristotle’s metaphysics lay open at his knees. “Please, tell my kin to abandon this deep curse, may the Gods take pity on my efforts at the River of Sty-” The Pompeiian mountain erupted, unleashing the hot hoppy fury of the wolf plant upon the teeming Romans below. Magma was truly the hottest DIPA that they had ever encountered, bitter coating sheets of obsidian and molten rock were bitter beyond belief. [FN1]

[FN1] entire entry reviewed for historical accuracy


Boneyard Hop Venom, The Only Cure for Hop Venom is More Hops

All those hops feel just like getting boned in the yard.

Boneyard Beer Company
Oregon, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.90% ABV

A: This beer has a light amber to a caramel tone, deep orange, maximal carbonation with a huge 3 finger head with little to no lacing, but maybe I just had a magic growler that imparted extra carbonation, how should I know? You wanna fight about it?

Dont approve of unbalanced DIPAs? Your argument is invalid.

S: Holy unbalanced beer detected, off the charts tropical fruit Skittles, blood orange, tangelo and lemon notes with a light herbal finish. After these East Coast gems, this lack of precision is like a blunt hophammer to the face. GUESS WHAT, maybe sometimes it’s fine to get blasted in the fac- wait, fuck.

T: There is a slight sweetness at the first taste that segues into a deep citrus assault that hits the gumline with a deep fulfilling dryness. The star of this taste is not the first or the second, it is the deep grapefruit aftertaste, which similar to a spiciness, makes you want to take another sip to keep chaining the after taste. It does a great job of hiding the high alcohol content because the majority of the focus is on the tangy citrus stickiness with just light bitter notes so that the warmth of the 9.5 % abv glides by undetected. After one of these though, the extreme drying becomes repetitive, like the 160 bpm of hard house music, it just gets a bit overwhelming and monotanous at the same time. GOOD THING I AM ON MALI WHILE TYPING THIS REVIEW. Psyche.

This reminds me of a series of knockoffs, however, this gem holds its own as a hop Manticor with several hissing heads.

M: The mouthfeel is inviting and smoothe, incredibly thin, but not overly malty. There’s not a lot of chewiness or coating to balance out whatever crazy hop blast that they have established here. The beer is a bit unbalanced, but not in a bad way, it feels like they knew what they were making and in only 2 liter growlers, this shit gets dangerous real quickly. They knew the niche market they were appealing to. Again, the extreme acidity from the hop oils runs to the sides of your mouth and sets up camp for a lingering 5 to 10 seconds, it will certainly jade your palate for other beers that you may have had planned. I am fine with that, this beer is amazing and I highly recommend getting your face drilled by it.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and took a moderate amount of effort not to finish this entire 2 liter growler to my dome piece. But then again, is that anything new on this website of excess? I drink these things so that you do not have to. This beer pairs an awesome sweetness with an addictive deep hop profile that juices your bitter zones enough to beg for the cooling rains of another sip. This happens ad infinitum until your Bend, Oregon dreams are shattered and Fedex is the only winner.

Cats may not enjoy this beer, but cats also can’t metabolize alcohol and hop oil, so fuck cats.

Narrative: Roger spun the chamber nervously trying to appear cool and collected. He had never been to a gun range before and felt completely ridiculous taking the pulchritudinous Taylor Emery to a gun range on a first date. “You okay over there?” she called from the booth, fidgeting with the paper cutout of a man pulling a woman behind a dumpster to be fired at. “Oh yeah, sure! Nothing like my old, er 6 shooter to cool off a day after, FUCK-” he dropped the .45 shells onto the ground and collected them hastily. He noticed a single forest green bullet and slid it into the primary chamber, trying to maintain a cool panache. He handed her the magnum, full action. This was not Taylor’s first run at the range and she gripped the stock with power and as the hammer struck the charge a huge green cloud escaped into a mushroom cloud of sticky splendor that smelled similar to a 7th grader’s bedroom. Minutes later, after firing only a single round. The two agreed that guns were deleterious to human progress and elected to watch Wonder Showzen with the sound off at Roger’s dorm room. The biological weapon developed at the University of Oregon was working to end war, one round at a time, getting kids hopped out of their minds on sticky, dank rounds.