Dogfish Head World Wide Stout, He’s Got the Whole World, In His Liver.

Happy New Year. Here’s the perfect beer to read about while you feel like shit.

This is a perfect treat for those who shy away from excess and seek moderate and balanced libation. Psyche.

I am pretty sure that this isn't WWS, but, after drinking it, I have absolutely no recollection.

Dogfishead Worldwide Stout 18% abv, Imperial Stout

A: Liquid ink, with an angry pallour. I am unsure if ink can be pissed off, but I feel like the slight bubbles are mocking me but they rise slowly and linger as if they dont care in their murky depths. There’s some carbonation but it is spiteful in nature. It doesn’t want to be here, it needs another 5 years of rest but here I am, bothering it and shit.

S: It is like a cup of melted licorice and coffee with a soysauce kicker adding an impartial dryness. it feels like the negligent judge from the karate kid movies is just letting me get destroyed sip after sip without regard. There’s a crazy heat to the nose that isn’t bad, just feels like the colors of a monarch butterfly, I shouldn’t be going after this.

I couldn't imagine trying to get anything done after a couple of these merkers.

T: My mouth basically goes through a blue phase and 14 year old Korn fans invade with murky aggression. Tons of coffee that bodyslams the toffee notes that gets leg locked by the drying chocolate. It is summerslam 2011 in your bitter zones and there can be only one. I end up tapping out, I can’t hang with this level of coffee/cocoa abuse. There’s a nice waft of heat and sweet dryness to level off the experience. Shit was so cash.

M: Again, it is absurd and so over the top that the coating takes centerstage. It sets up some good old fashion 19th century imperialism and your molars are rife with its grasp. Be prepared to tell your friends about it and exhale in their face and let them enjoy the magic firstnose. This is the perfect beer if you want to look and smell like a negligent ass parent, great for pre-soccer game festivities for sure.

The world becomes a dangerous place with the World Wide Stout.

D: Absolute failure. No one can drink more than one of these if only on a dare or some fraternal rite of passage. I cannot imagine someone finishing one of these and hankering for another. The entire experience is a chocolate iron maiden with pin and needles just crushing you with inky maltiness.

Narrative: Guillermo had been a janitor at Falling Springs high school for over 13 years, but he held a harrowing secret. He was the darkest individual ever conceived, born with a curse. While the students saw a wayward janitor, this gentleman was born with the curse of humor. You see while he observed the students in their rakish behavior his mind constantly crafted the funniest jokes ever conceived. “Please just, dont dump the chocolate milk in the lockers…ok thank you…” His protestations were fallow seeds cast on infertile ground. No one wanted him there but deep inside he knew his dark secret, internally crafting the most majestic jokes ever, but not sharing him. That was the source of his evil, entirely depriving others of inherent joy. Guillermo was uncaring in his turpentine dispensation. He grit his teeth to suppress the complex pun he crafted and mopped the chocolate milk from the adolescent crime scene.


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.