0

Cigar City, Marshal Zhukov, Ferris Zhukov’s Day Off

|

A Story of the Marshal as a Young Zhukov

This post is a happy birthday to Daniel Behi, who listens to Spin Doctors and sips stouts judiciously.

Cigar City, Marshal Zhukov, 11% abv, imperial stout

Appearance: This is the darkest stout that I have ever seen. This has officially dethroned both Abyss and Hunaphus. The oily inky nature almost tumbles out in an incredibly viscous heavy solution. The coating is massive and lends huge brown webs of cotton candy to the rim of the glass. The carbonation is huge and produces a deep mahogany head, which makes me question if a brew this baleful is meant to be consumed. It’s that 2am text that generates so much hatred, but such amazing results.

Smell: Deep dark chocolate, burnt brownies, candied bacon, cinnamon, and melted toffee. It’s like if a Heath Bar got its ass beat in a slaughterhouse. You know, the old Upton Sinclair scenario.

Taste: The first thing is a spicy alcoholic heat that dances and imparts a whisky peat hot character that melts into a nestle dark chocolate booziness. As you swallow you get a caramel and butterscotch that is underscored throughout by a relentless coffee from the deep malts. Just a relentless and incredibly complex stout.

Mouthfeel: After 12oz the glass that I am using has this incredibly dull khaki color to it. All of the edges have been coated in a sticky hateful caramel sludge. The coating is just incredible and I am happy to have a beer step up to dethrone the Abyss in this regard. When you swallow it just hangs out for ages, lingers like customers at Musician’s Friend. The coffee and burnt chocolate notes resound for ages, like college kids discovering Radiohead for the first time. YOU HAVE TO GET THIS STOUT TORRENT, SO PITTED.

Drinkability: This is an incredible stout and, given its availability and incredibly deep character, I would easily say that it is world class. It makes me wonder what the Final Push is like, the beer that is. Had I never had the Hunaphus, I would lose my shit over this beer but, I wont let that take away from what this beer has accomplished. It isn’t a top 5 stout, but it is still memorable and you could pick it out of a lineup. This is the rapist stout, the one with the lazy eye and the whiskey breath.

Narrative: “MARSHAL! Please, we need your decision, it’s….it’s a massacre out there.” The young private doffed his cap and gripped it patiently awaiting further instructions. The battle of Moscow raged violently just kilometers from his outpost but Marshal Zhukov gritted his jaw defiantly and stared intently into the furniture manufacturing district. “Protect the, the furniture comrade, without nice seats, the soldiers will grow weary, all baroque pieces, must be saved brother.” The brigadier general nodded solemnly and understandingly. Zhukov was a hard man with a penchant for petulant decadence. “Sir, we have an entire regiment of German troops, they wish to bargain, “Begin Ciphered Telegram no. 4976, begin with ‘My sincerest apologies (FN1)” Through the flurry of questions, the dark hearted general maintained his sweet side, despite commanding millions and sending thousands to brutal deaths. “LOOK COMRADE! An icicle has to be formed on the rim of the panzer tank belts, I think I shall for to have a licking.” Oh that wacky Zhukov! (FN2) [On 28 September 1941, Zhukov sent ciphered telegram No. 4976 to commanders of the Leningrad Front and the Baltic Navy, announcing that returned prisoners and families of soldiers captured by the Germans would be shot. This order was published for the first time in 1991 in a Russian magazine (Beginning) No. 3.] “IN SOVIET RUSSIA, REFERENCES FOOTNOTE YOU.” Footnote 2, he did this, citation needed.

0

Goose Island Juliet American Wild Ale, Jamammy name Juliet

|
Wherefrought Art Thou

Juliet, My Sun, wherefrouartthou, Jamammy name Juliet

Goose Island Juliet 6.7% Wild Ale

A: Deep amber and light ruby notes, almost no carbonation, no lacing, very tame in body not very sticky, and like the foam parties of the late 90’s I like dem bodies all sticky icky. Also Chemical Brothers, where applicable.

S: Huge wild notes, funk vinegar, grape peels, sour blackberries, tart wood finish, but let me tell you about the REST OF HER. Ba dum tish.

T: The fruits are more mellow, but refreshing. I will rarely give Consecration a run for its money but this is very on point for the style and finish. I ultimately love the oaky and high abv of the Consecration but this is just fantastic. The vinous notes are supported with background sweetness and the tannins are great and add a layer of complexity to it. It gets down all tart and starts merking the gumline, popping and locking all up in the sweet and sour zones, popin lockin dropin that birthday cake.

M: It is very light in maltiness, thank god, and lets the fruits and wild aspect take charge with the full character. The drying fruit skin notes resonate for just long enough to make you want to reengage. I love that it doesn’t cop out the indistinct sweet/cider route or try to be a gueuze in disguise. This is distinctively sour and the experience is top notch. It’s doing things well without additives, like when sours rock fake contact lenses or extensions, you know something is up. Or when your sour only earns $800 per pay check but has that LV bag, you know something straight questionable. Not here, Juliet keeps it real.

D: All. Day. Long. This is a great beer and the abv makes it universally accessible and great to offer anyone. The light character with HUGE taste makes a crazy synergy that makes me want multiple bombers of this. If I had more patience, I would age it further and enjoy the mellowed version but, I do not and it is great as it is. It’s pretty legit, not exactly too legit to warrant quitting, but, quite legit.

Narrative: Juliet knew she had something special to her. At first it was just idle whispers when she was younger. As she came of age, she learned to hone in on the narratives and focus in on the voices in her head. She had learned to learn a lot of things from the flowers, especially in the month of June. It was an ethereal talent that really did not give her any special insight to the world, but it was a power her own. “JULEZ? Are you still sitting out in the boysenberry patch?” Her conversation was interrupted abruptly and she had to put the rhododendron on hold. “Yeah mom, hang on.” The flowers really just complained and imparted sour notes into her life, but, somehow being so in sync with the idle problems of the flora made he feel whole. Juliet was a sweet minx, but sour through and through. “BUT PRAYTELL, HOW SHE FIT ALL THAT IN THEM JEANS?” the tawdry floral chorus sang in unison as she walked away.

1

3f Schaerbeeske Kriek, lambic, Acidic Cherry Gastritis 6% abv

|

Face Melting Grenadine

3f Schaerbeeske Kriek, lambic, fruit, 6% abv

Appearance: This beer looks like grenadine on steroids. It projects this vibrant red and foamy pink pallor that is both inviting and a sign of toxins, acquired from the wild. The lacing is pink and sticky with incredibly tiny bubbles. It’s like Rose` for hard drug users.

Smell: There is a musky mossy cardboard finish to the nose of this beer. The cherry and strawberry notes are present and smell delicious and almost too archetypical to be real, like this is a type of lambic bubble bath. The smell makes me think that this will melt my face like Christopher Lloyd in who Framed Roger Rabbit. Toontown up in this bitch.

Taste: There is an super drying tart cherry taste to it that just tears the enamel off of your teeth. Your taste buds run for cover, but there will be no shelter provided under this oppressive regime. The drying nature combined with the cherry skins just wipes out the inside top layer of skin in your mouth. If cherries had a chemical warfare program, this would be their dirty bomb. It is delicious and caustic at the same time, like a well balanced Taylor Swift album. AND JUST AS BITTERING.

Mouthfeel: Well, the mouthfeel is, thin, sharp, and painful. I have no other way to describe it. Perhaps if this had a couple years to think about its past transgressions, it might be nicer outside the bottle but it is a rampaging asshole through and though. You just get this sweet tart needling like brambles rolling over your tongue. Somehow, it is all worth it, I cannot explain how or why. It is similar to eating an Atomic Warhead when you were a little kid, the sweet part makes the tortuous coating worthwhile. You wake up with cankersores and check webMD to realize that herpes are the OUTSIDE mouth kinds of sores and breathe a sigh of relief.

Drinkability: The huge price tag, violent mouthfeel, and incredible tartness make it tough to justify this asshole. I feel like a battered wife sticking up for it, but I suppose that it does have some redeeming factors. It is incredibly delicious and I am sure a vintage of this would be amazing. I just don’t know any average person that you could pop this open with at a ski lodge or, on a Grayhound bus to meet your baby’s momma. No pedestrian endeavors here, just cherry violence and infidelity.

Narrative: It took years of failed testing, losses, and emotional turmoil but Xenidyne Tech had finally completed its magnum opus, Grenidation Chericite, the most powerful cherry substance known to man. It was the cherry equivalent of a neutron star with billions of orchards compacted into its tiny buzzing core. The bright red orb rotated at whizzing speeds within the class translucent containment unit emitting red bolts of power with enough cherry to kill a man. “If we could only, remove the pits, we could harness even more cherry power into its core!” Professor Bergstrom ruminated, while drawing hackneyed scientific symbols on a white board. “BUT SIR! That’s too much cherry for one…FOR ANYONE!” Professor Bergstom turned quickly and gripped his notepad, “YOU TELL THAT TO MY DAUGHTER, the one who died because her Shirley Temple didn’t have enough cherry in it, the one who cried and ran out of that Red Robin and was hit by a car, YOU TELL HER THAT SHE DOESN’T DESERVE ANY MORE CHERRY!” The assistant lowered his head solemnly “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” “If I can’t bring her back, then I can allow her legacy to live on, IN TARTNESS!” he turned a large hackneyed dial that amped up the chericites, a unit of measure used to the intensity of cherriness in any given substance. “THE CHERRICITE CORE IS GOING TO BLO-” The fuschia mushroom cloud sent a massive turbid layer of fandango into the valley. The papers would unabashedly utilize the phrase “Cherry Bomb” in a tasteless fashion.

1

Abbaey De St. Bon Chien, 2006 and 2009 Reviews 11% abv (REEEEEMIXX)

|
Your mom is a bon chien

The Bonnest of Chiens

2006 and 2009 BFM Brassiere Bon Chien

A: This beer has a tame gueuzey approach to life that crackles with some limited bubbles. There is no lacing and this beer doesn’t give a shit. You dont like it? Well guess what, find some other things to do, this beer spent the last 5 years all cooped up and it’s not in the mood for your sassmouth.

S: This is where this beer turns it into overdrive. Wow, the smell is like carmelized skittles burnt in a pan, nice crispy sugar, grape skins, smashed up sour patch kids and sour ropes. But, refined. Like when Willliam H Macy gets all super serio. You have a sincere reverence for it.

T: The taste is like the smell but it adorns a monocle. It has mellow sour notes with raspberries and blackberry tones throughout. I want to deny that the age has a factor but wow, this is exceptional top to bottom. It dries out the gumline but in a gentle way like the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer all tactful and shit. More skittles please? Oh ok, there they are.

M: The mouthfeel just crackles with energy and snaps with bubbles that seek to punish after a lengthy slumber. Each one bursts with a refined jolly rancher note. Great acidity that has muted over time and it feels like it hit its peak at just the right time. I wish I had more money and time to seek these bottles out, this is like a vintage VHS tape of Step by Step, you only want more.

D: This is an easy answer because of the style: more and now. This has such a great lambic/gueuze feel to it and just tastes refreshing. This Oude Bruin comes off healthy, crisp, and I can feel like I ate a slew of produce, WHEN I DID NOT. But seriously, this is just an amazing crisp offering that is like a series of bites into pear and granny smith apples that you spit out immediately, without reprecussion.

Narrative: “Please just stay” he whispered to himself, waiting for the box of fresh acidic produce that would arrive at anytime. “Aiden, I really have to sleep” Maybe it was the lack of protein in her bloodstream, but she needed natural c6h12o6 hotness or this deal would never be sealed. “Wait wait Jackie, lets just watch Planet Earth on Blueray” Michael pleaded. Jackie felt her blood sugar drop steadily and wondered “did he plan this? I feel so eslaypeee.” No one ever said courting a vegan woudl be easy. Did he know that her stoic diet would disallow any form of long-term drinking? “Oh EM GEE! Did you see those Bolivian tree frogs? So crazy!” He began to cradle her head in his arms “OH GOD PLEASE JUST SEND THAT ORGANIC FRUIT BOX ALREADY!” The two of them looked deeply into dilated pupils. ::BING BONG::: Saccharrine fresh fruit goodness had arrived. The two tore the crate open voraciously and each stared into each other’s eyes as they respectively sucked tangelos clean under the dulcent tones of David Attenborough’s narration.

0

Bad Penny, Big Boss Brewing Company, Brown Ale, 5.2%

|
Horrible Penelope

Bad Penny, More Like Ass Pennies

As a special weekend treat, I have provided you with a review of a horrible beer. For your weekend enjoyment, I give to you: Bad Penny.

Big Boss Brewing Company, Bad Penny Brown Ale, 5.2% abv

A: You ever just glance across the room at someone and know that they are going to have an irritating laugh? Maybe an old chestnut about an ex-wife or spin some yarns about a recent foreclosure? That’s how I feel when I open this underwhelming beer. It is Brown, sorta, like a penny left carelessly near the tracks, but not interesting enough to have been run over. The carbonation is as mediocre as the second season of My So Called Life (read: extremely) and it just feels like a chore to look at, like I should be accruing paid time off just contemplating this beverage.

S: There is some roasted malt, biscuity character, and some brown sugar. Like the amount you would find in a stoic convent, the grains are discrete and hardly numerable. It’s tough to come up with more to say about such a lackluster brujaha. It’s like finding a penny that was left in the wash, that happened to leave nice copper stains on your favorite shirt.

T: How fitting that a beer, called bad penny has such a metallic taste to it. This is like what would happen if Newcastle got into a car crash and a team of Samoan scientists had to rebuild him using only scrap parts. There isn’t that creamy taste or delicious nuttiness. It puts its best foot forward and introduces itself with a hoppy, coffee-like body, that at the same time reminds me of the taste of iron. There is a tiny bit of sweet maltiness at the end, as a sort of a consolation prize, but you end up feeling perplexed as to how such a simple beer could mistreat your daughter and pets so savagely.

M: No Updike treatises here, just a quick deposit at the old coinstar, aka, my mouth, and it is on its way. I am the one left bereft of 10%.

D: This is crisp, clean, and tastes like a Johnny Five’s taint, so I guess if you like knocking back some low abv metallic nectar, have I got a beer for you. Actually, I don’t, because I got this one as an extra and would never pay for this again but, there’s always next Prom, I’m sure Bad Penny will ask you then. The theme of disappointment should be underscored. Bad Penny tastes more like ass pennies, a statement you can take to the bank.

Narrative: The smoldering wreckage was a sight to be seen on the Five O’Clock news. Everywhere paramedics and emergency officials were attempting to pull bodies from the mangled debris of what used to be a train. “Please, Penelope Ferrus, tell us how this entire thing occurred, any statement would be appreciated….FOR THE VICTIMS PLEASE!” the reporter called to Penelope, aka Bad Penny, local rabble rouser and all around charlatan. “Yah see, me and some of the goils was horsing around near the tracks, Edna was jonesin for something refreshing and I says to her, ‘I bet by a country mile you aint got the whatwithya to run out and touch them there tracks, and I indicated to-’” Bad Penny was not only a bad person, but also a horrible orator, her statement could not be cut to less than 4 minutes of pure dialogue until finally she concluded: “so then I tells Edna to ‘Ah go sit on it!’ and we watch as the steam carriage just went and rolls right over the penny, same one from before, the one Edna got in Versailles, the one from those dames who had all that ferrium nitrate, anyway that one we went and left on the tracks, that same one, funniest thing, locamotive clips it and spins like a Louisville top in the midair, what with ejecting all the people and-” The jury watched this statement over and over after it was submitted into evidence and couldn’t believe the whimsical account that Bad Penelope provided. The jury examined the penny itself as exhibit 46 from the prosecution, just before Penelope flipped it into the jury box and made a distasteful Harvey Dent reference.

1

Victory Storm King, 9.1% abv; Crown King Nothing

|
The King of Drizzles

King is Loose Term for Storms

Victory Storm King Stout, Imperial Stout 9.1% abv

A: This has a slightly watery deep blackness to it, like the thin ink of a Pentel pen. The carbonation is outrageous. I mean that in the classic sense, inclining one towards outrage. It creates a huge 5” head that just maintains like mocha whipped cream. The lacing looks like a perverse Rorschart painting. It is a very attractive stout, for those so inclined.

 

S: The nose is a bit thin and doesn’t present much beyond a sweetness and a candied malt. I get a bit of a burnt vanilla and….that’s about it. T: There’s a bit of chocolate at the outset that gets very herbal very quickly. This feels far more like the Black DIPAs coming into vogue than the traditional stouts that I have come to grow and love. The taste finishes with a deep piney bitterness that is more like Hopsicle but with chocolate malts. I don’t know how this was classified as an imperial stout, but, variety is the spice of life, so says my Home Ec…er…”Teen Living” teacher.

 

M: Again, this doesn’t coat like a stout, nor does it present a big frothiness. It has a thin mouthfeel with a big hop body to it, if I didn’t know better, I would say that this tastes like a messed up DIPA that has a ton of high alpha acid hops. But, I guess I would welcome innovation over and above the same damn dancer/boxer/football team movie year in and year out. At least I have something to tell my children with this one, a good old epic tale about the old Imperial Stout/IPA that I enjoyed on a weeknight. Ah, memories.

 

D: This isn’t exceptionally drinkable. It is too bitter and doesn’t present all those Preggo delights that I enjoy: where’s my chocolate and deep smoky malts. To be clear, only negligent expecting mothers should drink this, if at all. Wait, ok, to be clear, this is a confusing malty hoppy bomb that belongs in that confusing penumbra category of Black IPA madness. Notwithstanding, it is welcome in my mouth. It’s hard to end on that but, oh well.

 

Narrative: “I need to get my Wiz Khalifa on, aint tryna be coding .DLLs all up in this shit,” Walter Lee protested voraciously from his cubicle. “They always posting on me tryna front on some spaghetti code ass bullshit, acting like I haven’t seen a debugged kernel up in this bitch.” His supervisor shook his head at the recalcitrant associate and tapped his red pen lightly against his clip board. This wasn’t the first computer coding job that Walter had been fired from. Admittedly, it was Neoscript’s own fault for hiring on a latent racist basis assuming that Walter Lee would be a successful coder. “I see dems, they post all up on this cubicle like they OWN ME. I post up on my set, peep this OH WHO JUST SET UP A BEOWOLF CLUSTER? Oh shit, that’s right, Walter. Ha haaaay!” the resonant call not unlike Jadakiss’s patent sound clipped against the aluminum ceilings. This was a clear case of a mismatch. This was someone who was ill-equipped to fight in the market in which he was competing, despite his inherent merit. “watch, watch, someone gonna write about this situation and be STRAIGHT RACIST!” Walter uttered from his Ukranian lips.

2

Lindeman’s Framboise, 6% abv, Raspberry Massacre

|
Raspberry Trainwreck

Framboise lambic lindemans

A: There is a deep ruby red purple color with a fuchsia head with no lacing, it just sits there, nonplussed.

S: There is a huge raspberry and skittles nose with juicy berries and roses. Far more juice and sweetness than maltiness and beer. This seems to be a flaw as the nose is just sweet with nothing else to offer.

T: There is a huge juicy presence with no alcohol waft just complete wine profile with no oak just juicy juice that is kinda cloying after a bit. I wonder if this would be better as a cuvee or maybe just not ordered at all. It is difficult to say.

M The mouthfeel is thin with no hops, the only thing that I notice is a sticky coating with weak tannins. This is that birthday party for beer elements where if a real beer showed up, it would feel all awkward because 11 year old dudes were playing Mall Madness.

D The profile is not meant for long sessions. Even my 12oz romp was enough for me. This “beer” was weak and far too sweet. I know I am supposed to judge on style but this is just nonsense, don’t drink this. Go drink a cup of juice and save your liver the paperwork.

Narrative: Eliza’s 6th grade science project seemed to be going to well. She had an impeccable tristand board with exhibits and visuals and graphs. The hypothesis seemed well ordered and- what the, “WHAT ARE THE EFFECTS OF PINOT NOIR ON AN 11 YEAR OLD?” Ok, that is when things maybe took a downtown. Eliza showed up visibly drunk, not unlike a Portugese schoolgirl. Her teeth were stained blackberry purple and she kept leaning on the judges, physically not figuratively. While her study was technically sound, her parents shook their heads in disbelief when she began crying and attempting to go through her phone. Notwithstanding, she confirmed that Pinot Grigio made girls of all ages and dispositions emotional wrecks. She took second place to a Vietnamese child whose water acidity exhibit was clearly put together by his parents. Also, they were not drunk.

0

Russian River Blind Pig IPA, 6.1% abv

|
Disable Pigs

Disabled Swine and OSHA Rules

Blind Pig IPA, 6.1% IPA

A: Thin yellow gold color similar to a watered down apple juice with awesome
lacing and carbonation, transparent with no middle carbonation. It’s a solid set of
Tim Allen stand-up that you grow to love.

S: Huge bouquet upon opening the bottle, great pine and grassy notes, not as
much citrus as the Pliny brethren, but smoother and less aggressive. The gentle, back massage
sort of game you expect from Bay Area kids.

T: The taste is crisp and light with a swift hop body the imparts its flavor, finishes
with a mild bittering and washes away clean. Great session beer and the ABV is a bonus.
There are some mild melon and lemon notes but predominately floral and grassy hops. A mint is left on your pillow lovingly by this pig.

M: Very light and crisp with a clean finish. It feels like the swift nimble ninja of IPAs.
It doesn’t impart a huge malty body but the bottle disappears staggeringly fast. The hops and
coating doesn’t linger or resonate for a long period of time but it is still satifying.

D: This beer is probably the most drinkable IPA that I have ever had. A great session beer
to be sure and the body and light malts make it refreshingly addictive. The fact that they
do not sell these in 6 and 12 packs is almost intentional malfeasance. I can’t really see
myself only buying one bottle of these given the price and drink ability of the bottle. The
16.9oz bottle is another strangely enticing aspect. All in all, I would with hubris and the
utmost respect play deferential beer pong with this beer due to its incredibly versatile light
character.

Narrative: “Ah not another stupid Kevin James movie!” the children bemoaned in unison.
To be fair, 11 years old is far too along in years to enjoy a three act train wreck of that
magnitude. The babysitter chortled and guffawed a bit in protest, shaking his sleekly shaven
face. “If Mall Cop is not the movie you start, what is it your disdain for this Paul Blart?”
The kids perked up at the dapper disabled pig addressing them so casuistically. “Perhaps you
harbor dislike from seeing Bewitched, well enjoy Will Smith and this movie Hitch” the dvd
slid across the coffee table and Mr. Pig adroitly knocked it into the tray. He appeared
overdressed at each of his assignments and, being blind, was hardly the pig for the job,
yet somehow his panache and particular sense of aplomb put parents at ease. “I know you
tire of little kid stuff, here’s flatulence jokes in this movie Grown Ups!” The children
two stepped in syncopation loving their blind caretaker and tugging at the tails of his
tuxedo lovingly

0

Duck Rabbit Rabid Duck Imperial Stout, 10% abv

|
rabid russian rabbits

Rabbit Imperialism, Briar Patches Appropriated

Duck Rabbit Rabid Duck, 10% abv imperial stout

A: A thinnish black with some deep browns, not a completely oily nightmare, just 
moderate BP situation.  Nice lacing and stickiness on the glass, like a 2 Live Crew Video.

S:  huge smells of figs, dates, roasted walnuts and melted raisin.  The smoky profile is 
light but huge in dark fruits.  The chocolate presents some dryness, but you aren't all
sad like at the end of an episode of Teen Mom, a good dryness.

T:  The taste has none of the fruits present and relies more upon a smoky element 
and dark chocolate maltiness.  If the maltiness were stronger it would come off 
like dark chocolate milk but the watery profile pulls away from it.  
No heat from the 10% abv is present.

M:  Surprisingly light given the appearance and the result is a beer that isn’t 
too big for several bouts, nice coating but not a huge malty overload. 1950's diners aint
got NATHAN ON THESE MALTS.

D:  As far at Imperial Stouts go, the thin body makes it less memorable, less complex 
but more drinkable.  It serves a strange purpose in that it doesn’t exactly strive 
for a One Day Crazy Release but seeks to be more of a solid everyman’s imperial stout 
cum de Yeti, Founders; but it isn’t readily available so it’s drink ability basically 
must carry the day and it ultimately does not.

Narrative:  Michael Clempson knew exactly what he was walking into.  There was an 
auspicious trailer at the entry to the cul de sac, unmarked Crowne Victoria cars along
 the seemingly benign residential streets.  Michael trolled Yahoo chat rooms relentlessly 
seeking the undercover Dateline operatives to lead to this epic event.  He feigned interest 
in a person posing as a 13 year old girl for the strict purpose of making his swift dark plan. 
 “COME ON IN SILLY GET OUT OF THE RAIN!” Michael chuckled to himself at the pathetic acting 
from the operative luring him into the house.  He held his head up high and awaited the ambush.
  On this blustery overcast day, Perverted Justice would receive justice of their own. 
“I MADE YOU SOME SWEET TEA SO JUST COME IN AND HAVE A SEAT!”  the voice resonated off of 
the surrounding track homes.  Michael grinned and gripped the detonator in the pocket of his 
cargo shorts, each stick of c4 making light abrasions against his chest as he entered the 
house with his murky dark intentions.
1

Abacus, Firestone Walker, 13% abv Barleywine

|
Abacution

Abacus Schmabacus

Abacus, Firestone Walker, 13% Barley Wine

A:  Amazing deep amber hues with some yellowing at the edges.  Great carbonation out of the 
bottle and the lacing looks like a Gallagher show, just mess everywhere, in a good way. Ladies
be mad peeping when you have a bottle of this in the club, mostly like "where did he even get 
that?" but mad peeping nonetheless.  Things are peeped upon.

S:  There are sweet hot notes with cinnamon and dark fruits.  It’s tough to take in with 
nutmeg and some sort of hot currant smells going on.  I usually hate barley wines but 
this smells nothing short of amazing. It's like that first time you popped that Snow cassette in
and sang to Informer.

T:  Just wow, this is the best barley wine that I have ever had.  There is an amazing
 great hot finish with sweet licorice and figs.  The heat rolls through and finishes a 
juicy plum note. Plum juice all up in this mix like a Michael Bay joint.

M:  The mouthfeel isn’t too heavy and really impressed me.  Again, I really dislike 
this style in all its iteration and if this is this good now, I shudder to think what 
a couple years would do to a 2011.  The coating has a great finish with deep dark 
turbinado sugar and nutmeg.  In short, it is very complex, just like a Wayan's brothers
 movie.

D:  This is scary drinkable for 13% abv.  I shared this with some friends and they all 
demurred and preferred their Pliny, which, for good reason I can understand.  But for a 
beer this huge, its tough to argue with.  The interplay of all of the elements at once feels
 like a Mars Volta record where you aren’t sure how they did it, but you are satisfied to
 be left in the dark as long as it tastes amazing.  This is exceptional and well worthy of 
the hype.

Narrative:  Tyler Folsom was a nice person.  Sure he was a 4 sport athlete, donated time 
on weekends to explicitly blind orphans, adopted 5 shelter cats, ran makeshift sickle 
cell anemia cure test centers in his garage, and had a laundry list of acceptance letters
 to a litany of schools, but, he was a nice guy.  Some would say that he had too much on 
his plate.  He never knew what was going on with Pretty Little Liars, his record collection
 was woefully wanting for a 17 year old guy, but somehow, his rough translations from Aramaic
 to Latin to hexidecimal for a new kernel that he was debugging made it all worth it. 
 “Oh sure, we could run scripts under English syntax, if you want spaghetti loops in 
your DLLs!” He exclaimed in a rare moment of tension while nursing a Koala deftly.  
“But ultimately, if the kids don’t eat, I don’t eat.”  He meant this literally.  
He had adopted Peter Singer’s theory of ethics and regularly starved himself for days 
on end, still outperforming all other student athletes.  “It’s basically just about being 
a NICE GUY.”  He noted as he put the finishing touches on his double fermented 4Loko batch 
that was 0 calorie and 0 carb, a gift for his friends for an upcoming soiree 
against teen inebriation.