@alchemistbeer Focal Banger: Better than Heady. I know this will rustle people with Certified BJ palates.

Whoa, whoa, let’s put the pitchforks down and extinguish those torches. BOTH BEERS ARE WORLD CLASS. Focal Banger just goes hard and crushes it out of the park in a totally different and admittedly superior manner almost across the board. Let’s start oiling those cones and get back to them entry level hoppy palate roots in today’s roots.

Gemini, Focal's Majesty

Gemini, Focal’s Majesty

Focal Banger
The Alchemist
Vermont, United States
Style | ABV
American IPA | 7.00% ABV



A: This has that same turbid, milky, Sunny D meets Tampico sort of radiance that the Cicerone schools gnash their teeth over: SUCH A LACK OF CLARITY. This was to be expected, as the farmhouse game is pervasive and not everyone subscribes to the crystal clear SRM of generations past. That’s chill. The carb is ample but doesn’t get in the way with excessive head or entendres connected thereto. It reminds me of how HF Double Galaxy Looks, except this shit only gots one galaxy, NEED TO UP THAT GALAXY COUNT SON.

S: This is an earth shattering limit break of olfactory delights, I am left mashing X to execute an ever expanding combo. There is of course the Citra aspects of tangerine and grapefruit zest, sure like you didn’t expect that, but HOLD UP, there is also a sort of Honeydew and a crisp watery melon profile that starts chopping up alpha rails real quick on a jewel case. This is overwhelming in scope and capacity but also adds depth to the old Bells’ hop overload formula. Balanced and excessive concurrently, a work of staggering brilliance.

You don't always need to be massive to put in work. Str8 swole. Mad hoppy striations

You don’t always need to be massive to put in work. Str8 swole. Mad hoppy striations

T: The taste is intensely bright and nimble in a way that heady feels yeasty and sluggish by contrast. If Horny Tubbler is the Tank, this is a nimble rogue casting hoppy DPS all over the place. There is lemon cirtus, peach, apricot, a watery panache that buttresses and fires shots like Ocelot Revolver right into your bittering zones on the swallow. The intense citrus closes a touch minty and herbal with a bittering juniper mixing with the pithy juiciness. I can’t eke out punchlines when beers are this phenomenal, DDB just turns into one of those basic ticker 50 hits a day fan service pages. IT IS NOT MY FAULT.

M: This is more thin and malleable than Heady by a long shot and feels dynamic as a result, closer to Pupil or Nelson really, and those are exceptional ranks to shoulder. It sallies delicately from zone to zone on your palate and cascades crisp like an Anjou pear upon the swallow, like Deadpool backflipping and laying a trail of explosive citrus clusterbombs. UR MOUTH JUST GOT DOMED UP BY DEADPOOL.

pictured above: basic tickers become cicerones overnight after discovering hops

pictured above: basic tickers become cicerones overnight after discovering hops

D: When asked how Michaelangelo created David, he replied “I looked at the marble and removed material until only David remained.” This does the same thing, except it strips down all the extraneous flabby water profiles, the excessive yeasty profiles, the overload od dry hopping, the needless crystal malt, excised honey and all the other bullshit and stripped this down like a roll-caged MR2 ready for the track. It is phenomenal without qualification and you are doing yourself a great disservice by skipping this one, even if it means dealing with rapacious Vermont traders who want Chez $4$ with cans of this, or whateverthefuck.

Narrative: Alfred Hopsdam clutched the radiant emerald amulet with trepidation as the train approached the platform, wisps of steam filling the air with wafts from the local orchards in the swing of harvest season. “Waterb…Waterburry…” Alfred stammered as he presented his entry forms to the elite Alpha Work Academy. The conductor glanced hurriedly at his pocketwatch and nodded, motioning for Alfred to pick up his forest green equipage and enter the cabin. The air inside of the Academy tram reeked of dabber oils, Jamba Juice smoothies, and herbal apertifs being decadently enjoyed by the senior members of the Hop Warriors Guild. One corpulent ranking official dropped his substantial mass onto the bench beside Alfred, “NAMES HOPSLAM, January class, BEEN AROUND HERE FOREVER, sayyyyy, you lookin a lil too thin to ride with us, you sure you on the right train bud? HAR HAR HAR!” His foul honey laden breath belied his true nature, sticky and coniferous. Alfred shook his head and gripped the amulet tightly and felt the clicking of the wheels onto adjoining rails as he watched the apricot trees buzz by with increasing celerity, he thought “they will see soon enough, I will show them all.”

PROTIP: Not everything needs to be barrel aged for you to give a fuck.

PROTIP: Not everything needs to be barrel aged for you to give a fuck.


LOL at the butthurt regarding Bruery’s full disclosure about these infected porters.

So the Bruery announced today that their imperial porter collaboration with 3 Floyd’s might be infected, and basements shook with rage as sausage fingers pounded on their COMPAQ keyboards.

Some would call this entitlement, people being pissed about not getting their money’s worth out of a $300 – $700 club, and that’s fine, but you also joined a $700 club for beer, so I am pretty sure you lost your 14th amendment privileges at that point.

Others might think that this boils down to some crazy profiteering, from a brewery openly acknowledging flaws with their product…and warning their customers…before it is released for sale. I can’t really address that without colorful pie charts and clips from Yo Gabba Gabba, so I will move on.

I like the fact that, were this released the other way around, 3 floyds would have tossed it into their generic 750mls, hand numbered it, charged $50, used a lottery system, then later not used any lottery system and just sold it at the brewpub, and then ignored patron’s complaints after the fact when it was discovered that they sold a clearly infected beer at a huge markup.

oh and Indiana traders would ask for V012, etc.

Thank God we avoided that result.

I guess you could try and have a field day complaining about QC, but the Bruery was upfront about it, like a classy escort that lets you know she has HSVII but she is not currently shedding. And like a classy escort, knocks a few bucks off the fees.

If you don’t feel like doming a 15% porter within a couple of months, maybe you are a raging pussy? Maybe let the real drinkers pass through while you as picking up scattered Midols all over the ground.

sometimes i ask, "WHY WOULD I WANT TO SEE THIS SHIT?"

sometimes i ask, “WHY WOULD I WANT TO SEE THIS SHIT?”

I think we can all agree: yes it is shitty that the porters became infected. Here are a few solutions used by other breweries:

1) “we pasteurize the beer, sell it online in a fire sale, don’t make enough for even half of our reserve members” – Cigar City rocked this amazing strategy and people were still drinking their cum off of glass plates. It sold out instantly.

2) “Don’t tell them, maybe they wont know, we cant be responsible for beer held over time” this is the usual whipping post for smaller breweries that have zero fucks to spare. Dark Horse rocks this shit all the time, changes a label a bit here and calls it a day. SOUR OLD ALE YOU SAY? SIGN ME UP.

3) “We are gonna sell this beer, if people don’t like it, allow them to potentially abuse our marketing department and do a full refund across the board.” This is classy as fuck, but not really realistic. Bruery did this for Cacaonut and the other beers and people not only rocked full refunds, but then still bitched about how they could spend their refunds for beers they may have enjoyed or traded away. CCB pulled this white knight move for Huna day and you can basically do anything short of lighting pug puppies on fire as long as you have an apology like this. Noble, but expensive as fuck.

4) “OUR BEERS ARE NOT INFECTED, that BA Stout is supposed to taste like merlot and have a 5 finger head.” This is a classic move from the smallest of breweries, it essentially shifts the onus onto the customer for buying them in the first place. I love this one the most. YOU DONT LIKE THAT FUNKY BUDDHA BOTTLE WELL MAYBE BEERS ARENT MEANT TO BE DRANK OVER 5 WEEKS AFTER RELEASE? Basically shaming people for not drinking things immediately is dope as fuck. A certain East County San Diego brewery might be implicated in this cadre as well.

5) “This is potentially infected, sorry in advance, no refunds but at least we are dealing it straight.” I remember this going down with Hellshire II and we had the same bowlegged sore nutsacks complaining. I prefer this approach the most: you wanna spin the black circle? God ahead, we warned you.

you could complain about shit, or you can look at this pic of baby otters. choice is yours.

you could complain about shit, or you can look at this pic of baby otters. choice is yours.

So is a brewery to do? For every million they make, more complaints ensue. I guess the underlying moral is that complaints from husky beer nerds are kinda like hearing sobbing from attendees at the Farscape/Babylon 5 convention: literally no one gives a fuck about them. This is the razor edge of 1 percenters in a hobby predicated on consumables. Until there is craft ice, this is the absolute nadir of hobbies and I will continue to treat them as such.


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

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:


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

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

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?


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.

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.

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?”


“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.

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.


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

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

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.

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

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.

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.


@hillfarmstead Elaborative, These Walnuts Be Gaspin These Tickers Ain’t Ready For Action

If you want to make beer nerds pass out from the blood rushing to their inner thigh sweat glands: 1) release a collaboration beer that hits two midcontinent hot spots 2) add an adjunct to it (walnut beans) 3) release it in Vermont 4) make it 1 per person. Oh shit, if you listen you can hear the flapping shut of labias like firefly wings. It is Horace incarnate the way that beer nerds lose their fucking minds over prospective tasting. I love when beer nerds give up amazing beers they havent tried for another amazing beer that they haven’t had yet. The lulz that I reaped were on the swords to plowshares level when the BA Kopi for Cherry Rye trades were going down. Later I saw people giving up T25 for MS3000 and wiped my brow with a calm collection and noted the disparity. Long story short, people want this shit. They jockin on them Chad/Shaun nutssszzzz of the WAL variety. Let’s see if Jackie O’s distributed this to 300 employees and ruined shit.

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn't stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn’t stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

Availability: Limited (brewed once). bottle (4), on-tap (1).

Tart Brown Ale brewed with Ohio Walnuts. Aged 18 months in a variety of oak barrels… in friendship with Brad at Jackie O’s and Chad at Crooked Stave.

A: Alright hold onto your lifeless squatless asscheeks, this beer is dark, has a mahogany sheen to it like an Oud Bruin and wispy lil 1/1 Black Mana Will of the Wisp that fades with a khaki collar like a Fubu 3 piece suit. Shit is basically the ESPY awards with more lacing. Even Reggie Bush would think this was over the top.

AHHH no wayyy you are 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

AHHH no wayyy you and 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

S: This reminds me of Oud Bruins for dayzzz, some will disagree as is their right but the nuttiness is only present at mid 60 degrees. It is more of a currant and light lemon aspect meets a huge porter/roast zeitgeist. Let’s take it back to the first party when you tried your first Molly, before you were sippin Rodenbach and not givin a fuck, them Oud Bruins would hit you hard like Kimbo Slice. This leaves that almond tannin aspect in your nose but a tart black chery shasta aspect mixing with it. I am not going to say 6th grade sleepover, but SNES may be involved.

T: The other 5 people who reviewed this are full of shit for the most part. Let’s just put that out there. There is no walnut going on for the most part. If you start rubbing your nips expecting nuts, keep expecting. This is like how Jackie O’s released NUT and you were like “THIS DARK APPARITION SUCKS.” It is like that, except they nailed their nut onto Prolegomena. You expect this shit to have lambo doors and wild out with deep roast and tartness, but the walnut just nods its head in 2/4 as a support character lending more gumline tannic dryness than some Funky Buddha hardcore adjuncty busted nuts. You get some black cherry but the roast kinda works the door akin to CD4 aka the most underappeciated fucking beer ever. It’s not really sour, its not really tart, its not really a creamy Oud Bruin either. It is kinda like a Ford Flex where you feel like you could use it but you aren’t sure how.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

M: This has that hard as fuck water profile that Hill Farmstead imparts with that bizarre carbonation that levels motherfuckers with a balanced creaminess. That aspect blows me away every time and almost pisses me off. It is like the Coca Cola recipe for mouthfeel and they kill it every time. Even when they “fail” with beers like Jimmy, which I disliked, they still smash it on olfactory and mouthfeel and its still wordclass and has what linguists call “A method of intentionality.” I can’t dislike this beer simply because it is well done. I don’t like the Camaro SS redesign but, god damn it, 420 horsepower and the engineering is hard to disagree with. Even if this isnt as sour or nut laden as you wanted, it is still fucking awesome.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the ABV is a punchline to a joke that your dry cleaners will tell you later. The one two punch of tart and deep roast just washes hand over hand and your glass is empty. Take out your detective kit and look closely, I drank the whole bottle to myself and my acorn penis got full sensation. Every other bullshit site will show some 1oz forced perspective like Fritz Lang. I dont’ even know why I bother comparing DDB to other sites, this shit has no peers, lezbiahonest.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it...doesn't feel that good.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it…doesn’t feel that good.

Narrative: Lucretius paced wildly in his limestone cell, awaiting his fate with a tenuous repose. “For all reduces to matter, there is no soul, only one unity in matter, but getting killed for this would seriously fucking suck” he muttered to himself while rehashing a series of Hellenic hexameters in solitude. The comforts of atomism were reductionist at best. He ran his palms against the cool stones of his cell and licked the walnut residue from his gums, embracing his fits of “habit”: counting the tiles, recounting Gallic encounters with specificity, and espousing proto-materialist doctrine. Everyone was pretty fucking sick of listening to him. The forum was crowded with plebian well wishers and Lucretius provided little in the way of new gods or old. He was a synthesis that was easy to embrace, however, it did not provide a deeper clarity to any real problems an individual was seeking. It was a far cry from the Legumes of Pythagoras, but his existential hopelessness did little to rouse a pre-Octvaian world. Synthesis alone was not comfort, execution and mastery was only revered with Cicero, the pangloss nature of Cato was all that he could hold on to. For some it was enough, but those were the same Praetorian that did not need it in the first place. Many nuts were busted in that cell.


2011 Horal’s Oude Gueuze Megablend, Composition Fallacy Pounding up in them Guts

I won the fuck out of this trade. I sent a couple of bottles of my homebrewed persimmon Lambic Pediobear and got this amazing beer in return. Etan hooked me up huge with this one, super serious.

For the uninitiated, working through geuze blenders, actual brewers, barrel houses, and De (x=whateverthefuck) is a difficult process. Sometimes you end up with dank shit, other times it is Timmerman’s disguised waiting to spring that $22 trap on your wallet. Most people don’t fuck around and stick to the old 3F, Tilquin, Loonz, but sometimes you put your dick in the oude gueuze glory hole and get some acrimonious treat.

The Mega Blend Geuze is a blend of young and old Lambic from eight HORAL members (3 Fonteinen, Boon, De Cam, De Troch, Hanssens, Lindemans, Oud Beersel and Timmermans). The beer was specially produced for the occasion of the 7th edition of the Tour de Geuze, and again in the 2011 installment. I know what you are worried about, “I swear to fuck Lindemans better not ruin this shit for me, I am having a Pi Phi over tonight to watch the Notebook.” Well let’s see if this shit goes Mega on the Dr. Wily tip.

More Mashups Than a Girltalk Bootleg

More Mashups Than a Girltalk Bootleg

Brewed by Brouwerij F. Boon
Style: Lambic – Gueuze
Lembeek, Belgium
7% abv

A: This has that classic radiant orange to it and certainly is greater than the sum of its parts because I have seen some shitty looking De Cam (flat as a sack of placenta) and some even worse Hanssens (murkier than a Kyle XY subplot.) The look makes me believe that those 3F boys had a hand in this with Boon but, appearances can be deceiving. The carb is nice but not some massive gusher, the lacing is largely abated by the acidity but it is still elegant.

No composition fallacy  here, shit is better than the sum of its parts. Damn levels detected.

No composition fallacy here, shit is better than the sum of its parts. Damn levels detected.

S: This is musky and gives the smell of oranges, lemon rind, acidity couples with rainy day bicycle seat funk. There is a certain wet compost aspect to this like dewy leaves along with the grapefruit and ph1 madness taking place. This will put your olfactory on the ground faster than Diddy’s bodyguard gets ripped out of a Maybach. That fast.

T: Again this is a strange Voltron of all these geuzezes, you get the muskiness imparted that smacks of deep age and light oxidation, some gentle persimmon sweetness that is quickly pushed out of the way to embrace tangelo, kumquat, tart tiny apricots, and a kind of green apple finish. Put your brewer master bible down you limpdicked diacetyl asshole, no one is talking to you.

M: This is incredibly dry like a super oaked chardonnay and just rips the fuck out of your jawline. If yo have ever undergone ZOOM whitening, you will know the depths of this jimmy rustling. There is a bit of a brackish finish that welcomes the next punishing sip, and I am down for the pound like Jason Collins, oh shit, too soon for those jokes? Alright, pretend I reference Rob Kardashian being a fat entitled Armenian fuck or something.

Pop this bottle at a tasting, show everyone you are beta as fuck.

Pop this bottle at a tasting, show everyone you are beta as fuck.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable despite its acrimonious character. I put up with the hard times because the good times are so good, like fucking a Suicide Girl, you know in the end you may lose your friends and parents respect, but you keep hitting it. I would recommend this to anyone who isn’t a complete pussy, which rules out a large segment of the beer community, those who are left are either lumberjacks or don’t even drink gueuze so it will be a tough sell. Here’s a test to see if you should drink this beer, lean forward to your compute screen, if your tits are currently supported by the desk, you need to do some p90 and leave this shit alone.

If you open this, you probably believe you are some kind of gueuze hero, but people know what you really are.

If you open this, you probably believe you are some kind of gueuze hero, but people know what you really are.

Narrative: David Yost looked out over the Baltimore skyline and slipped his middle-aged face into the tight fitting azure helmet. Throughout the early-90’s children knew him only as the sophisticated blue ranger. He was mercilessly harassed by producers, but they obviously did not know who they were fucking with. Beneath the cool demeanor was a man capable of evoking a mechanical triceratops and conjuring the imagination of millions. Perhaps his perpetually matching garb and needlessly science driven banter was too much for some, but FOX could fuck right off. David slid down a drain pipe and worked his way stealthily amongst the west end projects. The feel of the cool vinyl on his skin was liberating and let him know that, despite his age, he was still a hero to many. His depth and complexity was laudable beyond the mere zord that he contributed the critical mass. Upon witnessing a hand to hand drug transaction David Yost kicked a Baltimore youth in the stomach with a swift roundhouse. The 16 year-old dropped on his Jnco jeans and David felt like he was battling Putties again, only this time with a real purpose. The vials of crack cocaine scattered and some Southpole clad youth could not believe that a white man in a blue costume was kicking the shit out of drug dealers with poise and careful dignity. As the thugs scattered David removed his helmet and bit into a ripe kumquat from the local bodega. The memory of his fallen Yellow Ranger, Thuy Tran, resonating like acid in his heart.