Troegs Splinter Gold, Nugget Nectar Aged on REAL GOLD; psyche, just a rare Wild Ale.

August 20, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

In keeping with the theme of elusive old walez, might as well finally put a nail in this coffin and review Splinter Gold once and for all. This fucking asshole used to sit in the mid-80s on the top 100 for years just taunting tickers, elusive and brewed once in 2009, just a complete ticktease.

Thankfully, Masterski called a hit on this bitch and retired it, and all of those assholes who would wring their hands at night could rest at ease knowing this ethereal phantom was finally passed on to the afterlife. OR SO WE THOUGHT.

Then this year Troegs dropped another 750 bottles, 1 per person and the world’s collective nutsack split open at the seam. This dropped the same week as Cali Brandy Huna, so the boards were torn in half like a Cyrax fatality. DO I SUCK ON FLORIDA’S TOES OR GIVE PENNSYLVANIA A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE? How do I debase myself the most effectively? Well fear not, I am here to review this shit for you. Rest at ease: this beer is better than Cali Brandy Floridy Hunaphie HunaweissStout. You chose wisely.

Some people shoot for gold, cant land blue, and then settle for Black. It is the Splinter failure trajectory in which there is only sadness.

Tröegs Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Wild Ale | 12.00% ABV

Notes:
The transformation of Scratch #3-2007 to Splinter Gold has been a slow rest in oak wine barrels dosed with brettanomyces. During a two-year aging period the horsey flavors of the brett combined with the Westmalle yeast used during primary fermentation to create a complex blend of flavors. Bone-dry and 12% abv, Splinter Gold is highly carbonated.

A: Well, at the outset this isn’t a particularly attractive beer. This could just as easily have been called Splinter Dirty Penny. The hues are more of a bronze and deep amber. I was expecting some straight up sunshine in a can like how Brute comes out and starts irradiating titties. Ok so it isn’t gold, but this does have crazy attenuation and the cork almost busted the fuck out, taking its lil Black Note instruction/autoeroticism manual with it. Love those lil manuals, explaining why the rare beer you just got is worth it. It’s like “Fedex already dropped this off Troegs, I know what I have, stop pandering to me for fucks sake.” When I don’t get the lil book, I start a BAD TRADER THREAD. Because fuck that, it is PART OF THE TRADE, tiny books and all.

This beer feels refined, exotic, musky, and could probably fuck you up faster than you realize it.

S: The initial waft is a lightly floral carnation meets orange peel sort of affair, some glad Plug-In yellow scent, then things start getting a lil muskier like when someone begins a story with “well once at the YWCA-” you know shit is gonna get sticky and steamy real quick. THe oak is there, there’s also that weird “abused wife” sort of white wine that showed up in Pinotlambicus/Oui Oui/Confession, if you know what type of beaten wife I am referring to. [Note: domestic violence is not funny in any context, the foregoing was to lend a character to the nature of the white wine character and raise awareness.]

T: The nose of this was a white wine spritzer and bretty affair, the taste is a complete right turn of the old beer Garmin. I was expecting some acidic, complex , tangerine dream with brett in the background sitting on the kick drum keeping time. What I got was some weird wine barrel aged imperial tripel, it has the oak, it has the muscat grapes but this weird sweetness and sticky chick o stick sort of aspect as it warms. There is a candi sugar and weird weight to the taste. Everyone was rubbing their beer clits on bedposts talking about how dry this was going to be. The only thing that was dry was my beergina after tasting this.

You may want to go for some low hanging fruit, make some gold puns, maybe a Trinidad James joke here or there. Let’s go further.

M: Again, this is not a dry beer, nor is it exceptionally “wild” in that loose term that brewers avoid because they want to dominate a less contested category. If they called this a BA tripel, your gumline probably wouldn’t know the difference. If you want a DRY beer, try something like Hill Farmstead E., that is drier than labias at a Dr. Who convention. This is a sort of honey, white wine, sticky bomb. It isn’t exactly HEAVY like an Allagash Interlude, but it is kinda like a bretty semtex on the inside of your mouth. The abv is fucking invisible and the carbonation is almost on a champagne level, really helping matters, but just don’t drink this too warm. Shit goes from delicious pinot grigio fun day to apiary mistakes: wood edition really quickly.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the ABV has dropped all of its points into stealth kills. You could sip on this while grading student papers and OFFICER THE CUFFS ARE ON TOO TIGHT I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT ASKFM.COM IS. Seriously, incredibly drinkable but not exceptionally tasty as it warms. The age old advice that most beer assholes give is THIS WILL IMPROVE OVER TIME. But, who knows, maybe it wont. Maybe you are afraid of having an opinion or stating something contrary to a breweries’ interests. This is a good beer, relative to the asking price though, other options will get you just as wild with less ale.

9 out of 10 beer nerds wont know what these are. I am ok with that. We need them in basements contributing to databases, not out there grinding on normal people.

Narrative: The cuffs clicked tightly around Jonah Epstein’s wrists as his head was gently lowered into the back of the Dodge Charger. “I told you, I had a couple glasses of Barefoot Chardonnay, I dont KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!” he exclaimed as the officer in front popped a Circus Peanut into his mouth and took a long pull of his cup of Vault. “Quiet you, you think the Pennsylvania state legislature has money to waste with you monkeying around on the phone>” He clicked his nightstick against the screen and Jonah rubbed his wrists against the coarse American musclecar interior. “Listen, I don’t know who called 911, I had a dispute with my stepdaughter, it must have been her, PLEASE, you gotta believe me,” as he pleaded the stale taste of shame and $7 white wine was brought to the forefront of his mind. To think that this entire incident, the false 911 call, the binge drinking and shameful white wine headache, it was all because he would not let his stepdaughter watch Duck Dynasty. “Ok listen, officer, I fucking hate Duck Dynasty, I feel like white trash when I watch it alone, I didn’t want to expose her to that.” The officer reached forward and turned up his shitty Lumineers CD and drowned out poor Jonah’s drunken pleas.

Narke 2007 Kaggen! Stormaktsporter AND Konjaks! Stormaktsporter, Two Wales; One Liver.

August 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Back when the world was at peace, before the Nanomachines, before Skynet went global and the purity crystal was shattered into 8 fragments each guarded by an Eidolon guardian, there was something called the top 100.

In this top 100, were a series of sacred and profane images scrawled for admiration and cool reverence by the awkward prototypical beer nerd masses. Back when RB/BT/BA/TBS/RBT were orange groves sown by the tillage of honest serfs, there were walez. One of the most elusive in those provincial days was Kaggen and its wayward brethren, KONJAKS. To say that these beers are rare or sought out would be like saying that Sasha Grey has inspired a few erections on middle school sick days. Notwithstanding, if you feel like being nostalgic, go read my review of REGULAR ASS STORMAKTSPORTER HERE

Alright, enough pageantry, let’s get down to fucking business and find out which whale gots the most blubberers.

Swedish waels don’t deserve Midwest pours.

Regular Ass Kaggen!

Närke Kulturbryggeri
Sweden
Russian Imperial Stout | 10.00% ABV
The cask matured version of Stormaktsporter.

Narke Konjaks! (Cognac Barrel Aged)
Russian Imperial Stout | 9.50% ABV
Cognac Barrel Aged Stormy (no shit)

Appearance:

Kaggen: This pours a splish splashy cola brown that is black at the center. It is not an inky affair but carries that dark profile with a frothy khaki head that is impressive for 6 years of small format repression. The cling is nothing too intense and the lacing is gentle with a tiny clear sheet like when you strike a child with a book and watch the tears cascade gently.

Konjaxxxx: This looks almost identical, for obvious reasons but put forth a little bit more liveliness to the lacing and carbonation. If Kaggen is the reluctant friend, this is the drunk girl who at the moment is excited to go back to your studio apartment. These interactions are fleeting, savor them.

Winrar: Tie, they seriously look fucking identical. What the fuck is wrong with you?

At a certain point, when you slay two WW ticks at the same damn time, the butthurt becomes infinite to other sad pandas

SMELLINGS:

Kaggen: This might be one of the best olfactory stouts that I have come across in my entire life. There is a light coffee aspect with molasses, toasted almonds, honey, brown sugar, an oaky resonance that fades into a nice roast. This reminds me of a sweeter Parabola b1 with a higher emphasis on honey legs with zero abv. I hate loading on adjectives like a fucking asshole but they are seriously there. I guess I can just staple my nutsack to the sides of my thighs like a sugar glider if you don’t believe me.

Konjakson jackson: This is a whole different bag, in an insane NeoGeo 16bit port to console sort of way. This is unquestionably more ambitious and sets forth everything that Kaggen does but THEN FUCKING PILES ON MORE. You ever go to a frozen yogurt place and just go way overboard on toppings and find yourself plowing through all this conflicting shit like Peanut Butter cups with raspberries, brownie bites with Lychee, its a complete clusterfuck. You get smoke first and foremost, like a Duraflame log dipped in brownie batter then lit on fire with Cognac. The wood is present and the sweetness comes around like a scorched Nestle Tollhouse cookie. Sweet and smoke and indian burns on your dick all at once. It is just too much.

WINRAR Smell: Kaggen, times a billion, since forever until always.

When I popped both bottles, shit got real, things became tumescent.

TASTES NOTINGS:

Kaggen: God damn it, those efficient ass Swedes just made a compact deadly weapon of stout destruction. It is clean and pure in execution, extending the cola, almond, bakers chocolate, truffle, tootsie roll but imparting a subtle barrel character and absolutely zero abv. The sweetness makes this drink like Edmund Fitzgerald, and it only gets better at higher temps. Worth the hype completely and frustratingly so.

Konjacksing off: This is actually a really phenomenal beer to drink, despite the fucking menagerie on the nose. This reminds me of Bar Fly went and fucked Czar Jack and their little spawn baby was left in the nordic plain to develop. It is lightly smokey but lacking that red wine character from Bar Fly. The sweetness is unquestionably European in execution and sets forth this soft sticky caramel and mallowfoam all set against this toasty campfire backdrop. If you feel like having a great campout beer while being molested by your youth pastor, this would be it. Whales and psyche treatment bills, hand in hand.

Winner: This one is actually really tough because Konjacking off felt so good, but a little wrong. I still have to give it to the OG Kaggen, it’s like Rosie O’ Donnell at a bisexual bridal shower. It deeeeeeeeeeeed it.

“You alienate normal beer drinkers and make fun of people who get excited to drink Woot stout-“

Mouthfeelings:

Kaggen: This is the Yoshi of the Mariokart stout world in that it is innoculous, gentle, precise, hits the marks you want, doesn’t go overboard and keeps things ratchet enough to be trill throughout. The sweetness lingers but not like something from Southern Tier/DerkLerd. The roast is gentle but doesnt dry you the fuck out like Darkness. The barrel is restrained and doesn’t pound your face like BBpt5. It is tough to write notes on a beer that is so elegant and reined in execution. The 8oz bottle is such a kick in the dick because I only want more. Of this beer, not kicks to the dick.

Kernjerks: This is actually more interesting on this front than Kaggen because it is so damn sticky and sweet. The smokiness leaves a little bit of drying but the real show it the sweet toffee brittle and oak that lingers for days on your gumline, just making you wish you had dental insurance you poor fuck. The finish of caramel with tobacco sounds gross but it is delicious as fuck if only because I can’t think of anything similar to this.

WINZIPRAR: Konjaks! For reals, the mouthfeel was slick and sticky, smokey and sweet; fucking awesome.

Slay two white whales, only 1 pint drunk, now who we fuckin?

OVERALLS (OSHKOSH DRINKABILITY)

Kaggen: This is easily one of the three best stouts that I have ever had in my life. I cannot honestly think of valid areas of improvement because it just Limit Breaks the fuck out of my mouth, omnislashing all the flavor zones. The balance and robust flavor is irreproachable and well worth the hunt and tick, if your anus is down for that 5:1 sort of shit it will no doubt take. Godspeed you ugly tickers.

Konjaks!: Despite all my nitpicking above, this is still a fantastic beer. This should be viewed on its own and not held to the glaring standards set forth by Kaggen! It is better than Barfly and I have a serious aversion to smoke. It is as complex and fascinating as the cycle of poverty, and equally dark. I would have a tough time recommending going apeshit to lock down this one-off/rare/retired variant, but if you have already beat all the level masters and are going for completionist shit like DDB is all about: IT IS A MUST TICK.

1239 words about two rare ass Swedish beers? BRB cleaning all the cream out of my jeans.

Pat’s Beer Concentrate: Start Crushing Up Rails, Mainline your Ales Back on that Grizzy

August 15, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

It was only a matter of time before people started moving beer into bricks of that china white. That real unstepped on beer concentrate has been a product I can’t seem to go to any limited beer release without hearing about. Tickers be like “Hey you know how I weigh 245 lbs and wear a size 46 waist? Man, well one of my main issues is I can’t drink beer while I go on long hiking trips. It really sucks. I want a tepid, shitty beer to celebrate my hypothetical physical exploits.”

Well fear not, now you can chop up rails of dehydrated beer and have escorts snort them out of your stretch mark luges:

http://www.patsbcb.com/beer-concentrate

Oh you improved beer by removing all the water from it? TELL ME MORE

Consider the MIC FUCKING DROPPED ON THE BORING ASS LIQUID BASED BEER WORLD. You enjoying that St. Lamvinus you purple toothed pussy? Good, because the future is here Marty McFly, powder beer. I expect this to perform well in the 12 person mormon family, those kids are already accustomed to powdered milk, so why not horrible powdered ale?

From their site:

“Beer is typically about 95% water, which makes it heavy, cumbersome, and expensive to transport. But with our innovative and modern brewing process (patent pending) we can create a nearly waterless beer concentrate that contains all the great flavor, alcohol, and aroma of a premium quality micro brew. Our beer is not dehydrated beer!”

I can’t tell you about how when awesome 750mls of goozie show up at my door, how many times I was like “jesus this Blabaer is cumbersome, heavy and expensive to transport.” Because that’s what beer drinkers really give a fuck about, not taste, but shipping magnate considerations: “Oh tight you are gonna send me a Barrel Aged Huna? Wait…how much does that 750ml weigh? Oh fuck that, no thanks, I am not dealing with a cumbersome 2.2 lbs. Not on my watch. That is gonna cost at least eight dollars to ship. No thanks, and go fuck yourself with a letter opener.”

I love that they bring the real science up in the mix, tossing dehydrated malt up in the air like King James. Their process of dehydrating beer is so innovative the US GOVERNMENT CANT EVEN UNDERSTAND IT TO ISSUE A PATENT. Sorry patent attorneys learn to fucking Science, PAT IS ON THE TRILLEST DEHYDRATION TIP. But despite their efforts taking a water and turning it into powder, they assure you: OUR BEER IS NOT DEHYDRATED BEER.

Hold up let me look up dehydrated real quick while my vas deferens resets.

de·hy·dra·tion (d h -dr sh n). n. 1. The process of removing water from a substance or compound

OH shit, they are right, this isn’t just dehydration because they removed way more than water, they removed fun, taste, enjoyability, mouthfeel, shame, and the ability for people not to laugh at your Space Camp bullshit at the next part you go to. Maybe if you won Double Dare and still obsess about NASA, this will be your jam. I can also guarantee your small bent dick will never pass the threshold of an oral cavity. So there is also that.

Beer was fine with water. Why the fuck I dont even

So wait, if it isn’t dehydrate, what the fuck is this?

“Instead, our process (patent pending) allows us to start with almost no water, and carefully control the environment of the fermentation. The result… concentrated beer with all the same great taste you’re used to in a premium micro brew. All you do is add water, carbonate, and enjoy.”

Oh so they brew the beer, something for thousands of years made in a liquid medium, instead they…brew with no water? That’s like if you were like “You have enjoyed normal hand jobs for years, in movie theaters, in Chevrolet Cavaliers, and other cumbersome locations: BUT NOW ENJOY A HAND JOB THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE YOUR COCK OR ANY HANDS AT ALL.” If you are giving me a powder not brewed with water, then it isn’t a HJ; plain and simple.

I love their passing remark about how you just have to…carbonate it yourself. So this travel friendly product needs to be carbonated, that can’t be more cumbersome than just opening a bottle right?

http://www.patsbcb.com/carbonator

Oh wait fuck no. You have to carry a cumbersome penis pump meets Nalgene bottle. If you listen closely you will hear the sound of pilates women fleeing from your dumbass contraption. The pitter patter of size zero steps away from your very presence.

“The carbonator bottle’s organic form feels like it belongs in your hand… because it does! This elegant little addition to your gear list is engineered with an emphasis on rugged durability and simplicity of use. In its more docile state, it functions as your standard run of the mill water bottle (yawn). ”

FINALLY A FUCKING BOTTLE THAT BELONG IN MY HAND, no thanks to you, beer. What with your awkward hand-adverse shape, fuck you beer. It is funny that in the beginning they are talking mad shit on how cumbersome beer bottles are and then they assume that you have a “gear list” to enjoy this granulated precum beverage. Then they try and make it seem like some bad ass decepticon WHILE IT IS IN IN ITS DOCILE FORM. Oh shit you don’t wanna see this in its ultramalignant final form, CARBONATING THE FUCK OUT OF EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.

Just reading through this product website puts a smile on my face. The lulz are resonant through my palatial estate.

Have you ever seen a marketing agent rub his dick so hard against some Dockers that his taint is raw with anticipation? Well read this sentence:

“However, when you decide to kick it into high gear and unleash the technology hiding under its hood, you get a burst of crisp refreshing carbonation to energize the beverage of your choice. So no matter how far your wander lust leads you down the trail of your next adventure, you can still indulge your thirst for carbonated refreshment!”

They seriously wrote that, about a tiny pump on a water bottle. I am not making this shit up.

Another stupid fucking peripheral in the beer community? Disapprove.

Ok so at this point you are probably like “alright, enough cock jokes, seriously, why does this bullshit exist?”

I AM GLAD YOU ASKED:

“In 1997 Patrick Tatera was on a backpacking trip in the southern region of Canyon Lands Park in UT. Just before leaving on the trip, he and his buddy purchased a 12 pack of tasty micro brewed refreshment, put it on ice in a cooler, and then left it in the car at the trailhead. By mid afternoon, they had reached their designated camp spot in an awe inspiring section of the park. The sky was blue, the smell of sage brush permeated the air, and there was not another hiker to be seen. Everything was perfect… except one thing.”

That one thing was a line of leaking diarrhea spilling down the trailhead from all the bullshit that the participants were full of.

First of all, beer nerds don’t hike. Have you been to a beer release? They are just a step away from bucking Bronies, wearing screen printed t shirts and Fedoras from Spencer’s gifts with acne playing Apples to Apples in an industrial parking lot at 4 a.m. These motherfuckers dont exercise. Second, YOU ARE GOING ON A HIKE WHY DO YOU NEED TWELVE WARM JOSTLED BEERS? How big of an alcoholic are you that going out in nature isn’t entertaining enough for your rapacious liver?

Alright, I wont Adam Jackson you with 2200 words, I think 1300 is a good spot to stop. Just stop.

Capitalizing off of stupid fucking entry level craft beer fans? Fist bump.

Dehydrated beer wiped all on my gums, make a white stripe on undergrad skin like a Zebra, I call that shit attenuation fever.

FOODREPUBLIC.com is serving up some HAWT Beer TRADEING TIPZZZ

August 14, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, close that Bangbus tab and get ready for some fucking sticky hot knowledge to be dropped upon you from Food Republic. YOU WANT TO TRADE BEERS MOTHERFUCKER? Well the authority on Beer Swapping: FOOD REPUBLIC is ready to school you harder than 3rd grade Vietnamese calculus:

http://www.foodrepublic.com/2013/08/08/5-steps-mastering-art-beer-trading

My face when I receive a box of beer from FOODREPUBLIC, 4 month old Nugget Nectar? Wtf.

Jon Katz master whale slayer with sickkk tipzzzz on trading. Whoever gets that illpacked stock photo box of offshelf UK Beers is gonna be so stoked.

“the postage is usually higher than the beer itself.” – Who is the person making these trades? Fedex across the country costs $15.00 on average and most people aren’t just stroking it and shipping a single box with only shelfturds like Patio Pils and 312 (NOW IN CANS), with the exception of super grateful Bruery Trustees sending those coveted thank you boxes of stale gems.

“Brews you’ve been dying to try that you simply can’t get where you live. For me, those beers were from Jester King, Karbach, St. Arnolds and No Label” with the exception of a few JK beers, this may be the least uttered sentence in the history of the English language, just after “I cant believe I fucked that guy dressed like Captain Planet, for an Arch Deluxe.” Search the forums, no one is seeking those beers, but to each his own JKatz, you old minx.

“Hey foodie friends, let’s get into trading bee- OH FUCK NONONONO”

“Don’t buy beer on eBay. Don’t EVER buy beer on eBay.” what if the beer you want is completely inaccessible except on a resale site? You just grit your teeth and lube up to pics of Kaggen and dream a lil nocturnal emission. The fact is many beers command well over their Ebay pricetags in trade value, I guess the monastic stoicism in defending a resale is commendable in that instance, but trading 12:1 is hardly laudable by contrast.

“Use 1 flat-rate shipping box” This is an excellent idea if you would like to send someone a soggy pile of broken glass and brown cardboard. These boxes are tiny and leave little room for insulation, further they are just the right “throwing size” for lazy Fedex or UPS workers. Furthermore, you can fit a maximum of 3 bombers in those, that’s if you are hitting it super raw dogggg no protection craigslist escort style. None of the aforementioned packing items would even fit on the “Large” flat rate box. No raw dog, wrap it up breh.

I am gonna transfer my Karma from Pretzeltrader.com to show my box cred, FOOD REPUBLIC STEEZE

“Expect to pay between $15-30 per box, so make it count. Ideally the trade is “valued” at double the shipping. It’s about the same as if you ordered from an online retailer” Make your own Fedex account. Stop being a weak penis. Most people value the beers inside beyond their intrinsic dollar value. Some saggy tittied trader would be pissed if HF Mimosa broke in transit, the first thing they said would not be “I PAID AT LEAST $20 for THE SHIPPING ON THAT BOX” there would be zero fucks given, unless you are just pushing futile “ROGUE FOR STONE” type of trades. In which case, yeah, shipping bills are probably the thing you look forward to most.

Maybe you are too much of a little girl to start a dangerous new hobby. Maybe you arent ready for diabetes and domestic disputes.

2009 Southampton Berlinerweiss, 150 Bottle Whale Slaying for the low ABV haterzzz

July 30, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Damn son, has it come to this? Fucking around with that 2% piece like a baller ass Derringer with one up in the chamber. So this one last came out 4 years ago in a massive 150 bottle release. Most people stroking it to King Henry or having nocturnal emissions about CBS don’t even know what the fuck this bottle is. This site isn’t for them. For those of you who actually appreciate this 2% choad, you will how know deep this satisfies due to the girth. Let’s give the fucking 2012ers a second to Google this and become Berliner experts for a moment.

Alright, lets go.

The 40’s of this release are where they really hit their stride. Try to trade for those ones.

Southampton Publick House
New York, United States
Berliner Weissbier | 2.00% ABV

A: This looks like pure sunlight and running through a field of cattails on a warm summer day. The carb was perfect and crackled in wispy foam that hung around like a bottle of Sprite mixed with some pineapple Fanta. Amazing radiance to the center and it just feels refreshing to look at, suddenly being underwater on your mortgage and living in shitty ass Kansas doesn’t seem so bad once you have this Berliner.

Things dont get more uplifting and likable than this beer.

S: This is a lemon bomb that again pushes the Sprite envelope with some faint haint, light musk akin to a sort of brackish aspect and a gentle saltiness. Insert hot rope joke here, and move on. This again has a light tartness to it and the acidity is more like a chaperon than the prom king.

T: This is so damn gentle and refreshing with the watery lemon aspect, wheaty backbone that is thinner than Keira Knightley. Again the acidity is a soft pat on the shoulder and serves to buttress the faint lemonhead mixed with water. The musk is super subtle and this is made to be crushed with a swiftness. A sort of Stevia sweetness closes out this banger and begs for another sip.

Took a pull off this Berlinerwale and couldnt even believe how crisp and clean it was

M: This is so. damn. thin. I can’t even communicate how crisp and refreshing this is to drink. You would put this in a waterbottle and go on a 30 mile ride on your Trek you fucking yuppie. This is lightly sweet and faintly tart, nothing is overdone but nothing is really done either. It is ethereal and feels like something you would drink if lost in the desert or while getting your cock pierced at Burning Man. Uplifting.

D: Off the fucking charts in drinkability, this beer is. The fact that this is a whale is tragic and no other beers in this realm come close in execution and balance. I loved the New Glarus Berliner, this is some Radio Rahim shit though, inimitable. You can squint your tastebuds while drinking Hottenroth but it still just isn’t even close. I could crush this by the case and still make it to my job at the Golden Corral carving station. You can be irresponsible as fuck with this beer and still have a modicum of responsbility. If they served this at AA, the meth users would be happy and perhaps a few less kids would get this asses kicked for leaving their bikes in the driveway. We can only dream.

When I finally got to try this, my face be all like

Narrative: “SIIIIICK ELIMINATOR BROTORCH!” Ah shit, they brought this guy again, god damn Tevin Jacobs. “Ahhh can’t wait to load this up with sick girls, grills, shots, schwaaaazeeeee-” Tevin began twisting lemons into a blender, making his salty sweet potation to refresh everyone present. He’s is trailing off again with what is debatably not even a real word. Why do they always bring this guy around? He is so irritating. “And THEN I WAS ALL LIKE this-” Oh great, now he is grinding all over my dad’s speedboat. He is offensive and I see him so infrequently but that drink he whips up makes it all worthwhile. The lemons and limes get all these women so relaxed. They always say he’s great to have around at parties but just a few minutes of this Tevin and I am already sick of him. “SO I ALWAYS TELL CHICKS LIKE OK THINK ABOUT IT, you could never get PREGNANT ON ANOTHER PLANET BECAUSE THE gravity is all different, it would straight pull it down and-” Jesus, the refreshing motjito is hard to justify, but makes me feel refreshed around this asshole. I just, I can’t sit here and listen to this butchering of science. “Yo bro, can you hit me with a Michelob Ultra? Tryna hit up the gym sitch later!”

De Dolle Stille Nacht Riserva 2010, Sippin them Off-Vintage White Whales Tryna Flex

July 29, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, everyone knows that the 2000 vintage is the testicle drainer that everyone loses their shit over. But what about the equally alluring NEW vintage? There were all kinds of rumors about how many bottles actually made it stateside, I heard anywhere from 380 to 1100. Shelton be flipping bricks of that raw uncut so it wouldn’t surprise me on either front. This aint even stepped on, 25 months in a barrel making North Carolina breweries shake their heads in disdain.

Twisting my nips and turning co2 knobs. Wait wut

Brouwerij De Dolle Brouwers visit their website
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 12.00% ABV

A: People complained like little Delta Gammas when they pour this out about the lack of carb but to be fair, it was in a barrel for 2+ years and it is 12% abv, I wasnt expecting some crazy bubbly gusher out of this decadent bitch. This is penny amber and deep copper notes at the center with a nice radiance to it. No lacing, no sticky bubbles, just a lil prejizz wisps on the collar. This isn’t your first time.

SNR10 ahwww shyttt mad trill sonnn, lemmie get my shitty Artful Dodger hoodie and sip a 1oz pour CIRCERONE BEER PROFESSIONAL WERKIN back up BJCP MAD TRILL

S: If you walked into this shit expecting a belgian strong, guess again motherfucker. This is deep cherry, oak, vines, merlot, red grape, tannins, fruit by the foot, and some sherry wafts on the backend giving some sweet dryness. Your aunt has been sipping on that cherry cordial liqueur and wants an open mouth kiss, for old times sake. Those 2 years in the barrel made this asshole a heartless sour wrapped in vines and you know deep down that barleywine-esque maltiness is there, but too much time in the hole made this Virgil a product of Bordeaux hell.

T: This follows the nose pretty congruently and lends some tannins to the malty base but at higher temps you get a sort of english barleywine aspect to it with some toffee and caramel in the finish. However, the cherry ring pop and red wine continues to run the yard, shanking malty inmates with pieces of sharpened oak. Dont fuck around with this beer, hold its outturned pocket and know your role.

That feel when you pop crazy bottles and have nothing to talk about in the elevator on Mondays.

M: This is initially sweet and sticky from the cherry and malty base beer but then the tannins and oak cause a mouthriot and people start throwing dry mattresses over the railing drying shit out pretty quickly. Riot control washes it away clean but you know that dryness is coming back after the cherry aspects leave. The ABV is pretty well integrated but it is there polishing a fat Cabernet nightstick ready to pound the fuck out of any bitter zones that get out of line.

D: This is drinkable but a whole bottle for lunch on a Tuesday was a bit cloying after it warms a bit. Hey here is a crazy idea, maybe you should fucking share this bottle instead of being a greedy fuck? Yeah, I know. I would get down on this again but maybe spread the love around a bit next time. I liked it but didn’t fall in love with it and the complexity took a backseat to cherries and port near the end. No regrets/10, would bang again raw dog double lover no rubber on that reservoir tip.

BEER REVIEWS? Psh I have been doing those sence lyke 2011!!1!!

Narrative: “Well hey hey hey fellas!” Chip Merken piped out loudly while deftly handling his pitchfork. “Ah can it Chip, we can’t take it on harvest day.” Harvest day was hard and long, with an oppressive sun. Chip was always a crisp jolly individual who could somehow out-harvest the others, and outsow his colleagues at planting time. He popped a cherry into his mouth and thought up another upbeat tune and began to rap on a piece of oak. “Toot doot dee do da dee dee daaa” he whistled some antiquated tune to himself, smiling in between breaths. “COME ON, DAMNIT CHIP!” One co-worker threw his rake down in anger. “Here we are trying to harvest some damn wheat and instead we have you all up in our heads with your old show tunes and knock knock jokes, don’t none of that make this any sooner!” Chip’s smile slowly faded and he looked down at his glistening pitchfork, “don’t let them get sore at you old Chip, don’t let what happened before ever happen again,” the darkness in his heart burned. “Well sure fellas! I will go get the reaper, I GUESS!” The reaper indeed young Chip, the reaper indeed.

@santeadairius Appreciation, Norcal Berry Banger on that Limited Bottle Release Game

July 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I have seen a flood of people requesting this shit regularly on the ISO boards and I am almost confident that they have no fucking clue what it is that they are seeking so let’s drop the mic and clear the air for a minute: you will not land this shit for a Cherry Rye. I said it. Part of my daily ritual involves waking up, politely asking the confused young man to leave, and then seeing how many more WANTS this beer has amassed. This shit now sits at a 57:1 w/g ratio and yet you still get langoliers fishing with shelfchum. Anyway, from what I understand, this was like 150 bottles and sold out instantly and my complete lack of surprise is largely due to how fucking amazing West Ashley and Bernice were, so let’s keep things going and nod in 2/4 time to Tim and Tom for this one.

Sub-200 Bottle Release, putting so many plates up, triple double no assist

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales visit their website
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.20% ABV

Since people just seem to be ISO’ing this beer and have no idea what they are even looking for, here is some information for the teeming masses:

Appreciation is a barrel-aged farmhouse ale fermented with boysenberries and our resident funk. After several months in red wine barrels, it has taken on a mouth-watering acidity, a whiff of the barnyard, and stronger aromas and flavors attributed to the fruit. Appreciation’s ruby red color entices, welcoming another sip, another clink of glasses with friends, another moment of contentment and contemplation. With gratitude, we humbly offer our appreciation. Sante!

A: Alright I have to fess up, I fucked this picture up. Not only is it dark, frontlit with gold tinted windows, and just shitty composition in general, but I don’t think any picture can portray how amazing this beer looks absent color matching it on a candy coated slab. The purples and fuschias just burst alives on this with amazing carbonation that fizzles away in a ruby red head. This reminds me a lot of Griffon Brux but calls out to your berries and longs to squeeze them and let the juice run down your leg. Beautiful beer once again ruined by a trifling ass beer site.

150 bottle AWA from a super legit brewery? Seems proper.

S: This is a jammy banger that brings the lactic acidic haymaker with a tannic closer akin to an acid tank explosion at the Smuckers factory. You get some deep blackberry, boysenberry, some of that sweetness from preserves jars in diners, but all of that stacked upon the Cascade levels of ph blasters. This resonates with a black cherry finish that makes me wonder how the fruit was able to wrangle the massive dryness, this beer got you that 6 pack shakur got hater tickers on flex.

T: This is exceptionally dry and opens with a lip smacking acidity and light oakiness that is barely kept in check by some cherry and blackberry holding it back like “NAH DOG YOU ON PROBATION JUST CHILL.” Again this reminds me of Griffon Brux with the cherry aspect but a darker berry fruit and massive tartness to it. This doesn’t have the saison muskiness and depth that people ride that SARA jock so hard over, but something you gotta work other areas than the jock. The tannins are massive and are sure to wipe out your salivary glands like you overdosed on MIO energy.

Meanwhile, on other beerblogs

M: I made this pretty clear earlier but in case you have some average ticker Reading Comp skills, this is incredibly dry and leaves you with a coked out white tongue that it caked in some berry banger purple. This is the new workout plan for many midlevel American sours that either drop all fruit on you or just push weak ass lactic/acetyl bombs without depth to them. This will put your gumline on stress and puts in work all over your tart zones like you ate a shitload of Nerds.

D: This suffers in drinkability simply due to the fact that it rips your mouth sideways and the fruit brings some redeeming sweetness but with that sweetness comes the residual tannins from them there nonsoluble fibers that you get from banging ass berries. You gotta take the sweet with the tart though, stop crying. Also, most people arent complete assholes and they will likely share this instead of pounding it alone before popping bottles in a club. But then again other beersites might be offshelf sybian riders who will never taste this in the first place.

you prolly shouldn’t drink ABV > number of pullups you can do.

Narrative: Talk about a sweet gig. Back in 2004, Nancy Druthers never thought that being a Facebook switchboard operator to administer pokes would blow up into a full time job. “NANCY WE GOT TOO MANY POKES COMIN THROUGH! YOU GOTTA SPEED UP THE LINE!” It seemed to her that somehow they would program around this dilemma, but, business is business. It was her dry personality but sticky sweetness that kept the Fbook staff pleased with her admittedly archaic services. She very a bit soured at the prospect of another day of dragging and dropping pokes ad infinitum to people she would never meet, however, it was mildly fulfilling. “NANCY FOR THE LOVE OF- YOU CANT TAKE A BREAK HOW WILL THESE PEOPLE MILDLY INTERACT!” She sighed and applied her cherry chapstick, mildly tart but ultimately a sweet person with a simple profile. Not on facebook though.

@lostabbey Isabelle Proximus, Dat Izzy on the Codeine Fizzy Make Tickers Straight Dizzy

July 18, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright since we are slaying whalez, might as well gut the massive heart out of this cetacean beast and lay another one of these AWA monsters to rest. You probably don’t recognize this beer without ISO: in front of it and some shit like FT: HUNA following it, but this acidic banger is izzy prox, aka dat 6/28/08 birth that rocked balloon knots back before people knew what a folding chair release was. These 1620 bottles still live on in people’s hearts and dreams but most in OCD hater tickers nightmares. When this was rolled out in 2008, that $30 price tag puckered many-an-O-ring, now we just call that shit Battle Priest and go back to work on a Tuesday. Anyway, let’s mouthkiss this lady and see if she shows her age.

Mouthkissing that 6 year old lady, Molly coming out of your pores, posted top floor in a 3100 sf vegas penthouse trying to get rid of your stretch marks.

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

If you don’t know about this shit, here, read this and let the rest of us get on with our lives. Let’s hope your offshelf liver can keep up:

A collaboration between five of America’s best craft brewers – Tomme Arthur of Port Brewing / The Lost Abbey, Adam Avery of Avery Brewing, Sam Calagione of Dogfish Head, Vinnie Cilurzo of Russian River, and RobTod of Allagash – Isabelle was created from a common base beer to which each brewery contributed a yeast strain and barrels for aging. After 16 months in oak, the beers were blended to create the final product.

A: To be honest, Izzy is not a particularly beautiful or bubbly woman. Perhaps she has lost a touch of grace in her old age but there is a deep amber meets pyrite sort of glow to her but it is nowhere in the realm of those OGV curves or even a radiant Brute finish. Of course it might have been those baleful gold tinted windows but I took her into the bathroom to more carefully- nevermind, just, ok next section.

Izzy is a savage beast that most acorn penises will see in their worst nightmares

S: This smells like a shitload of tart movie candies smashed up and then mixed up in blender with peach juice and limonata. There is a peach ring, apple ring, sour patch kids, tangelo, an acidic middle body to it that is almost nectarine/stone fruit in a way but then gets back to the Harvey Dent face melting fruits on the finish. You could huff this all day if you were a well connected 13 year old. Huffing is for 13 year olds only.

T: This kicks down your sweet zones and breaches the perimeter with a lemon/grapefruit flashbang and lights up the elite tastebud guard with a fucking SMG popping off apricot and kumquat shells. There is kum everywhere. There is a single quivering child tastebud left in the bitter zone left unharmed, to tell the others who did this. The hateful siege is complete and that lingering lemonheads taste makes you want to take another sip. It’s like how you leave the movie theater with pounding ass kankersores and you aren’t sure if it was the 300g of sugar you just ate, the salt, or the clearly HSV chick you were necking on. Life is a sour mystery.

Mmm cant wait for those Unemployment Bennies to pay out so I can pay these fedex billzzzz

M: Well see above, this shit is painful in a way that even the most hurtful Belgians could not engineer. It took some American access codes and ramp up the pH levels and I am sure at least a few brewers were kicked through some boxes when prompted for the access codes to this SOUR WARHEAD. Oh wow, if puns were jizz I would be a 14 year old home on a sick day. But seriously, this is exceptionally dry and just hits those bicuspids harder than Steve Buscemi’s orthodontist. If this beer were a lady she would be Anna Paquin because your grill will be fucked after you skull this. I drank full pours of this side by side with Armand and Tomme and pound my anoos if this wasn’t straight peroxide next to that gentle Belgian mama bird.

D: This is probably the closest American Wild Ale that I have had to a straight Belgian gueuze but like everything else from America it strolls out with amped up DD sour tatties, tart pumped up duck lips, musky tummy tuck, every aspect of it is overdone in an amazing Spearmint Rhino sort of way. I drank almost this entire bottle like a complete fuck out of a Martini glass and I never once was like “ooh that’s plenty.” I had mean ass ulcers afterward, I am sure. But tiring of Izzy is like paying for an escort just to beat her ass in Call of Duty. No one does that.

WOA BRO you drank a rare bottle of beer BY YURSELF? Alfa as fuckkk.

Narrative: Izzy Arthur decided at age 15 that she had enough of the Deliverance church services that she had attended for years. Sure, for a child, people wretching and rolling in the aisles had a note of noble bitterness to it. However, after years and years of this behavior, the sad rancor in the room was just an overriding malaise. “ALL OF YOU CAEIUFH WREGHHHH BERRRRR!!!!” Izzy sighed as she held down a middle aged woman down with an outstretched blanket as she expelled her demons. “Wreghhhbleghhh-” to her right, the local librarian gagged and spit into a paper sack. Sure, it wasn’t the AVERAGE triumph of good over evil, but in the end it was still a type of grassy purity that came from a solid agrarian community. It was this deeply acidic character and complex inner monologue that made Izzy so strong. A local mechanic burst into the building covered in lemon juice holding two anacondas offering up a pithy prophecy “And until the BLERGHGHHA norway titans cannot UNTIL GEHHHHHIIHHH IN OUR LORDS NAME!” Izzy popped a Shocktart into her mouth and soldiered on with an austerely regal posture.

Russian River Depuration, Let’s Set This Depomation Record Straight for the Haterzzzz

July 17, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright so if you were around way back in the 2011’s there was once a shithead with no foresight or foreskin who kept pumping a shitty brett forward homebrew clone of Depuration. That beer is now deep in the annals of history as Depomation, a perfect product of hype whose 42 bottle yield and Jefferz5000 label only the most legit/now deleted accounts got to savor. With LurchingBeast and Spdkilz and DJbutters having drank the last bottles we can finally move on and stop talking about that Shasta offbeat/beatoff clone. Let’s review Depuration, sip Pediobear and rub pellicles on some mantits.

Before you pay your shitty $500 mortage on your 5 bedroom Indiana home, that pour doesn’t mean I am one of you.

Russian River Brewing Company visit their website
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This has minimal levels of carb and sits murky and not giving a fuck like a girl with headgear on at prom that gets no love. In a word this is straight Doesjelling, if you know what I mean. There is a tepid aspect that swirls with some lackluster zero-fucks-given wispiness and a deep orange at the center. Here is where you talk shit about the size of my pour again, and then oh wait I skulled the vast majority of this bitch:

Before you ask: yes I later blended it with Coors Light.

S: The nose on this is fantastic and taking it head to head with a 2012 Temptation shows that what this beer lost in lovable acidity, it gained in muskiness and depth. There is an oakiness, sweetness akin to martinelli’s cider that I can only assume was the remainder of the grapes, a deep leather and hay combined with dry yard trimmings and a lemony acidity closes it out. As far as AWA’s go, this holsters the juvenile acid overload and proceeds to neck kiss up on 41 year old substitute teachers. “Mr. Vinnie doesn let us-” “Well I am not Mr. Vinnie.”

Bros be showing up at a Depuration tasting with Mexican Cake variants, the lulz not insubstantial straight cascading through my palatial estate.

T: This does not taste as amazing as the nose would suggest but despite it being faded harder than Jordache jeans, it still delivers like a Body Glove t-shirt. The taste is almost creamy in its smootheness, there is a light tingle of acidity like pop rocks and a lemon zest that is coupled with some sort of darker fruits which was really surprising something in the realm of bruised peaches and plum. I be balling in the D league, speaking Swaghili. You could crush one of these far faster than Temptation, and honestly this is a completely different beer in every aspect. While Temptation is brighter and simpler like the girl next door, this shit takes you back to the days of hands soaked with yearbook ink and musky cardboard, back when boners counted more, back when you wanted to beat off immediately after a movie date. Less restrained and far more complicated times.

This is a sour predator but it gives you a deep acidic hug and you look deep into those golden eyes- whoa is this an erotic fiction blog now? nice.

M: This has an incredible creaminess to it that coats and crackles like a strange pudding that has pop rocks and lemon juice in it. It is what I would imagine it would be like to go down on Jubilee or Dazzler. It’s not about the tastes here, it is the nose and mouth, straight ENT on these bitches. Temptation dries more, this provides a milky crackle to it like carbonated horchata, I GUESS.

D: This is wildly drinkable and did put that acidity up in me like paid experimentation. The only caveat is that since this beer is a one off/retired/essentially extinct is that telling people to seek this out is little more than veiled taunting. The best part of this is I didn’t have to drink this with 14 other dudes in a Joliet backyard with a bunch of 30%+ BMI dudes all photographing their molar units. I love it when a plan comes together. Oh yeah, and in case I didn’t address this fully, Depomation is wildly worse than this beer and essentially tasted like a brett C overload contrasted to this lactic/pedio masterpiece. Since there are exactly 19 running jokes in the beer community, keep those tired ass jams coming like playing Cupid Shuffle at a wedding.

Daddy went to jail on a come up at his Radioshack job tryna lock down some ticks. Cellar shit is a sour life.

Narrative: It was a strange existence, being a single guy in a big city. I guess being the webmaster and server technician for Match.com just added to the burn. He knew his own shortcoming, Kyle Rancors wasn’t the most outspoken person, or the most witty, but he had the ability to defrag your kernel faster than most in that bustling metropolis. That wasn’t an entendre, his skills were really that misaligned. Sure, he could carry average banter, had a working knowledge of Gray’s Anatomy that made him seem cloyingly sweet, just no one that a girl wanted to have a raucous session with. Performing maintenance on servers that helped others find love just seemed like an ironic twist of lemon into his heart. He was a good guy deep down, and somewhere, a mediocre enzyme would fit with his substrate complex to create the perfect lock and key. Those are the kinds of things that Kyle Rancors would actually think. There was a certain creaminess to his interaction that didn’t leave you feeling greased up, but rather lubricated for a lifetime of fulfillment. Plus he could slang mad Pokes on Fbook with no DNS entry.

@santeadairius Bernice

July 10, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

So I guess this is one of those “regular” SARA offerings, that is kinda like saying “oh that is one of those Kuhnhenn REGULAR RELEASES, you know 52 bottles in the middle of Arctic Tundra.” That sorta thing. I don’t know if this is the base beer for West Ashley but either way, Thank you Based God. I have my suspicions and until one of the portmanteau components of that Sante Adairius chimes in, old DDB will have to grind it out like a 7th grade dance. I put on Tony Rich Project and shit got sexy real quick with that octogenarian Bernice. I spelled that shit without spell check, this is gonna be a legit review.

Cupertino muggy and mean muggin on that radiant sesh.

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales
California, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.50% ABV

I was told that I am drinking batch 2. Like you give a fuck.

A: In journalism an auto-correct error is called a “Cupertino.” This is because when the software was first developed there were several instances of changing the word “cooperation” without the hyphen, to “Cupertino.” Why should you give a fuck? This beer is the Cupertino error of subbing in straight saison for what should be “American Wild Ale.” Just look at this glowy ass ho straight emitting free radicals and lasers from its core engaging in cold fusion without remorse. This looks really similar to West Ashley and again, the investigation continues.

Yeah, Twista was sippin Sante Adairius in the Source and tickers offering Abyss. Do they even Outlaw?

S: This doesn’t have the ripe apricot or complexity of the tannins but plays more of the river cards in embracing the lightly lactic nectarine acidity that is coupled with a faint gorgonzola aspect to it at higher temps. At cold cold cold temps in them 45 degree range I was kinda crestfallen, this was seriously like Pineapple Fanta or what old ass people would call THE OLD EGG PHOSPHATE maneuver. Let this open up to them mid 50’s like your favorite librarian and then work it hard, without remorse for its cats or estranged children. The light acidity takes a backseat to this Siren call of bubble bath refreshment. This is Bath and Body works nose fucking you and the 18 year old cashier is wanting. Legit.

T: This beer enters with a gentle ester that really needs higher temps to showcase and complexity in the residual sugar vs. enzymes battlefield. That is not its strongest suit. The Brett C profile is present but again, this is not the Chad Crooked Stave water on bugs refreshment either. This executes like somewhat of a hybrid between Crooked Stave Vielle and Seizoen bretta in that it is incredibly light, drops some lemon, tangelo, nectarine, and some clementine but isn’t acidic enough to warrant some comparison to say Beatification or that realm. The whole experience is like being tucked into some lemony 500ct sheets. Most of you still sleep with an unfolded sleeping bag or a FUBU sheet set from Walmart so I can’t explain it that well to you degenerates but, splurge and buy some dryer sheets next month when you wash your mountain of black screen print shirts. It is like that.

I got two boxes full of Sante Adairius shit this week, the Fedex truck be all like-

M: This is incredibly light, to the point of being insubstantial almost. The acidity adds some dryness that remedies things to add a lingering that is kinda like a power chord versus the fully fleshed out 3 additional notes of a major chord, but something feels too simplistic and transparent in the splishy finish. The West Ashley had an apricot walker to lean upon to add strata to the silt but this is a simple affair like a Misfits album that is satisfying for exactly what is immediately presented. There are no lactic/brett C/barrel solos that run on for bars and bars, you get a punch of lemon, water, light musk, and it is over. You want another sip immediately because that tart smooch with the latter day saint of the saison world just teases you hard.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you feel bad about the rate in which you can slay a 750ml. Your mother in law will look at you like a UPS driver, straight alcoholic, when you drill this shit like a dental assistant. You will be able to put this down triple double no assist. This is like when you drive a Honda until the 99999 odometer turns to 000000. I love how drinkable this is but it almost pisses me off how fast this disappeared, but that is largely the fault of my heaving back tits, deep bellybutton and insatiable liver. I wreck bottles and lives.

Florida traders suddenly lost their wind to this Farmhouse upstart. Watch them offer up some MZ shit and reap the lulz.

Narrative: Berenice ran her fingers through the fine Byzantine textiles and looked at the Gregorian calendar wondering what the nature of the Roman Silver age could hold. Her golden locks were held simply but there was a certain piquant complexity to here demeanor. No woman seeks to be a thrice divorced woman during the Flavian dynasty, but such was her Lot. No pun intended. The cool acidity of her treatment and interaction of the servants showed a poise that predated the Justinian morality laws. Any servant could approach her and take in her refreshing nature, the cool perspiration of Judea bathing salts and desert air made her a breathtaking site to all who sought her company. The only harshness that she ever exhibited was a harsh hand exhibited during the Jewish rebellion, but even in trying times the afflicted sought her clemency. Later her empire would be replaced with apricot groves and a new empire would replace her gentle feudalism. No seed germinates everlasting in the chosen land, not even Berenice.