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GUEST REVIEW: Three Floyds Topless Wytch, Pagan worshippers straight stacked

HOW CAN I BE ANY FUCKING LAZIER? This site is already the post-bike ride taint of the beer world, but now I am farming out my own shitty beer reviews to legitimately talented writers? You get what you pay for on this site OKAY. Today’s guest review is the same contributor from the Lawsons Kiwi Double IPA Review aka Hevvymetalhippie. Thank you for your work, now I can chase down diabetes in peace. I will give him the floor:

How apropos to be reviewing this beer during one of the last snowfalls of the winter, it doesn’t get more metal than this beer. Not only are there a pentagram, an inverted cross, and an axe on the “death metal band font” label, but…titties! Besides, what is best in life? Answer: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women. I’ve been waiting to drink this beer for months; this Wytch isn’t topless, say the titties is out.

Tatties straight blasting harder than the Four Play label. NSFW beer.

Tatties straight blasting harder than the Four Play label. NSFW beer.

Three Floyds Brewing
Munster, IN
Baltic Porter || 9.00%

Appearance: Even a hard pour couldn’t get a head to form on this godless harlot. If anything there’s a thin and tight ring of bubbles, that quickly vanish to a scant ring around a mysterious coffee black body. Why you gotta be so triflin’! When I set a burning bible behind the glass, looking through the darkness to the other side, deep shades of burgundy and garnet reflect from the glass…robey tones braj…robey tones. And for the record, no lacing, this wytch is topless remember
guise!? CWUTIDIDTHAR?

I looked closer at that label and wuz all lyke-

I looked closer at that label and wuz all lyke-

Smell: On the initial pour bakers chocolate, bitter coffee and sweet malt are as
obvious, but much like the letter art on the label, not all is what it seems. To qualify
as a Baltic Porter, a higher ABV must be created to withstand travel to the “Baltic”
regions, as well as being bottom fermented at lower temperatures. A slight vinous
character emerges from the briny deep as well, perhaps an unholy note of satanic
raisns.

Taste: If it smells like a wytch, looks like a wytch, then its PROBABLY A FUCKING
WITCH! This beer is awesome, straight up. A lot translates over from the nose,
but richer and sweeter as it warms. It’s probably sucking my soul out Dementor
style like a golf ball through a garden hose…yeah think about that. If 3 Floyds ever
decided to barrel age these, or better yet do barrel aged variants of this, they’d have
a line down the street of beer geeks willing to sell their souls for this potential insta-
Whale. I see bourbon barrel, port, or even cognac going over very well.

This beer might be deemed sexually offensive and offputting to women, but ladies be loving dem imperial porters tho.

This beer might be deemed sexually offensive and offputting to women, but ladies be loving dem imperial porters tho.

Mouthfeel: While thinking of how to make a joke about doing body shots of Topless
Wytch off a topless witch and how hedonistically aristocratic I felt sitting amongst
a pile of recently traded beers, I couldn’t help but notice how badly I wanted this
to be a thick witch. If only it had gone further down the road into stoutsville; well
I guess it’d just be a barrel aged imperial stout; fuck me right? Some people like
their women like they like their stouts: thick and fudgy. AMIRITE? Hey where’s
everybody going?

Drinkability/Overall: I accidently a whole Topless Wytch…is this bad? Over a
prolonged and more civilized drinking session; like a respectable adult would have,
not some college frat bro drink-a-thon shit show, where I’m sucking down beer like
a man-titted bridge troll whose life depended on it; I realize that my beer nerd rage
wants, and rash judgments might be a tad hasty. This is an excellent beer, another
world-class offering from 3 Floyds. I have come to the realization that drinking
amazing beer regularly has clouded my judgment on what is actually a good beer
and what is a phenomenal beer. It’s tough isn’t it? #firstworldproblems. It could
be enhanced if they bumped the ABV up, tossed that topless bitch in a barrel like
she deserves and let her out some months later, but it’s also excellent all on its
own. Satanic imagery, evil letter art, tits, a Norwegian Black Metal album, and one
amazing beer later, I’m ready to sign my name into the black book of death, if this is
any predicator of things to come.

Ultimately it is a porter, it is a non-imperial stout, black ale, fuck if I can explain what this is.

Ultimately it is a porter, it is a non-imperial stout, black ale, fuck if I can explain what this is.

Narrative: It had been three weeks since Lydia had seen the sun. Her skin, pallid and
milky had been untouched by the light of day, her purple blue veins read like a map,
roads down her arms and into her hands. Inside the cemetery catacombs, the need
for clothes had become moot; the temperature often soared leaving the mausoleum
sweltering in the mid-day Louisiana sun, causing her to venture deeper into the
dark vaults, bereft of clothes. Further she walked, blindly and topless into the earth,
hand upon the wall, beyond the oldest portions of the grave until she reached the
terminus of the pit. There upon the roughly hewn ledge lay her prize, the Black
Book! It had taken her years to find its final resting place, but here it was and here
she was. Warm to the touch, the book was waiting for her, to inscribe her name into
it, and cast it from the book of life. Perhaps now she would feel the satisfaction, the
comeuppance in unlife that she so desperately desired in life. Lydia was becoming a
witch.

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GUEST REVIEW: Lawson’s Kiwi Double IPA, How Can I Do Less Work on this Shitty Site? GUEST REVIEWS.

I have got a few requests from people who actually want to throw materials onto this burning trash heap of a website, and I am glad to oblige. Anything that allows me to black out harder and not have to write 900 words for you ungrateful assholes is a good day for me. Mama fixed the breakfast with no hop. Anyway, today’s guest review is from BA Hevvymetalhippie, if you see him, throw a peace sign and say slow down player. If you too would like to live in infamy on the best beer site on the entire fucking internet, let me know. You should be able to write at least at a Dan Brown level, dixpix optional. dontdrinkbeers@gmail.com

also email that fallopian tube who took the nonplural version of that shit, tell him to stop causing periods.

Oh shit, inb4 robey tones/NZ hatespeech

Oh shit, inb4 robey tones/NZ hatespeech

Lawson’s Finest Liquids
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.10% ABV

Appearance: For the few seconds I’m able to pull my eyes off Harlem Shake videos
on YouTube, Kiwi Double is a beautiful brassy orange amber with a frothy white
head of hair…err foam. Just ‘cause there’s a little snow on the roof…how does the
rest of that go? Head goes limp fairly quickly, so get your lacing kicks before it goes
flaccid.

This beer is mirthful yet powerful, and it might molest you

This beer is mirthful yet powerful, and it might molest you

Smell: So the hop note may have faded a bit, but its still right up there, better than
most IPA’s available even in its Golden years…Gritty New Zealand hops, vegetal
and raw. Big, resinous pine and wood notes, grapefruit rind like woah. Malt comes
through more with some time on it, but caramel notes don’t pull out dentures
dentures. Will have you tweaked like J Howard Marshall key bumping blue steel.

Taste: Chewy, woodsy and hoppy. May have faded slightly, but we’re still in the
presence of greatness, so show your elders some respect and get in the closet! Citrus
and pine notes dominate, but soft malt notes support so hops can shine. Although a
little dull like grandpa, you can still tell hops were present, sort of like an old man
who just got off the bus and the seat you just got in is still warm…mmm.

when some people see guest reviews, they be like

when some people see guest reviews, they be like

Mouthfeel: Straightforward carbonation helps to wrestle bitterness off your palate,
but signs of a struggle and forced entry remain. Raw and uncut, like Clint Eastwood
making racist jokes in Grand Torino but goes down smooth like Clint Eastwood on
Donna Mills in Play Misty For Me. Old people boning. There I said it.

Drinkability/Overall: This is an awesome IPA, nothing but the best from Lawson’s.
It’s fully torqued hop profile, married with a subtle and complimentary malt bill
make Kiwi a must have, and only gets better when its fresh. The ABV hides well; you
barely notice it peaking at you through the blinds, hiding in the buses. Don’t share
this; be a greedy old bastard, those damn kids don’t appreciate anything nowadays.

I had this beer, but was too lazy to review it myself.  When I tried it, my face be all like

I had this beer, but was too lazy to review it myself. When I tried it, my face be all like

Narrative: Sure, Red Dubois was the biggest bastard in the county, but he was also
the areas most eligible bachelor on Bingo Night at the Senior Center. He had money
once, from his formative years in modeling, but now his dance card was empty and
the years weighed heavily on his tired and pallid body. But tonight, things were
different. Debbie Sanderson was back from her trip to California looking radiant,
and Red felt the unbridled turgid strain of desire. Things hadn’t gone his way for
quite some time, but he knew tonight he’d the two of them would be yelling Bingo
long after game night was over…