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@columbusbrewing Bodhi DIPA, Touch that Bodhi, Get All Up in the Bodhi, Put my Bodhi inside You

Alright, we can all agree that Christopher Columbus was a complete shitbag, right? I mean ok, he rediscovered a trade route, committed genocide of thousands/millions of natives, sold Carribeans into slavery, we all know about that; but he also probably never brewed a DIPA. If you do all that horrible shit and then never offset it with at least a quality beer, then, that’s just babystomp levels of wrong. Columbus Brewing would be the inverted analog to the imperialist mariner: solid land locked people with no boats, no imperialistic aspirations, and they brew a fucking amazing DIPA. I saw this lil elusive minx pop up on the old school top 100, back when the mics used to mean something, 95 was meant you were the shit, now a 99 is like the least you get. Mad props to BlacknYellow for sending me this sticky banger. Anyway, this is fucking amazing and the best hoppy offering to come out of the midwest in a long time. Sorry Head Hunter. This is vastly superior. This one is for you Sendsilk, stop complaining and let’s get up in that Bodhi.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Columbus Brewing Company visit their website
Ohio, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This is just beautiful. It isn’t that orange julius turbid mish mosh that HF presents, but it isn’t that deep gold SRM from west coast offerings, nor the ugly brassy east coast maltbombs: it is it’s own aesthetic. Looking at it, you wouldn’t think 8% abv DIPA, it looks like a tamer sort of Zombie Dusty affair. The carb held up well and there is light cling and little retention, but you didn’t put this hop porn in for the foamy storyline. You just want those hop oil money shots all in your mouth. Triple ropers.

Once this growler was opened I couldn't keep my mouth up off it

Once this growler was opened I couldn’t keep my mouth up off it

S: This has a fantastic floral meets citrus boquet that doesn’t dominate on either profile. At first it is a bit aserose and you have sad feels, but then that grapefruit comes through like pith on the backend lightening up the bitter Coen Brothers hop profile with a bit of Raising Hopizona. Jamean.

T: Again, the pine needles are swept gently into a corner with some smashed lemon and yard trimmings in a beautiful medley that is distinctively grassy, resinous, but bright enough to maintain that complexity. It is the halfway house between shitty east coast malt bombs and simplistic refreshing west coast citrus profiles. The ABV is masked impeccably, you wouldn’t even know there were bricks stuffed up in the spare moving mad weight up in this whip. Pine cones soaked in grapefruit puree, bottled with unfiltered sunlight. Straight ratchet and worth the hype.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

M: This is exceedingly thin and all the better as a result. In racing they say “if you want to make your car do everything better, reduce the weight” and that is essentially what is going on here. This is a stripped down malty 240z with a fucking 350 of hops dropped into the chassis. I am not sure if this amount of resin to citrus ratio is street legal, but it def gives southeast asian kids erections. It washes away clean with an almost dry finish due to the oily bitterness that leave you with little recourse besides getting face down in it for another taste.

D: I killed this entire growler on a weeknight and wondered just what the fuck happened the next morning. My Roomba looked on in cold disapproval and swept up all the smashed goldfish from the entryway. This will get you on that Mossberg swerve to the point where, who knows, maybe you might get banned from a local establishment and/or beer website. Anything is possible with this minx. Highly recommended Boneyard/Alpine level shit. Seek this one out, srs.

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90's extreme intensity

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90’s extreme intensity

Narrative: Dwayne Clark knew that his grill was illfitting and he didn’t care to address the issue. The lack of balance was his calling and the street youth loved him for it. In urban circles this was an issue of ultimate reproach and he instead chose to clench his bicuspids defiantly. “What type of cheesy gordita crunch would you like?” “mhm.” He just felt the pang of knowing that his vestigial dental accessory was somehow subpar to the most luxurious on the block, but ornate and amazing in execution. “I shed, jush a regular scheesy gordita, crunsh.” He gritted his jaw knowing they were mocking his ostentatious purchase, the precious stones obfuscating his speech. It was sheer excess, to be sure. WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO? TAKE IT OUT? That is simply not an option when you come so close to regal greatness. No sir, he resolved to show this grill in all of its majesty, despite the “minor” problems that he may encounter on a day to day basis. Dwayne would tend the danky vines in his grandmother’s basement and wait for the day that Interscope saw the true genius behind his radiant flows.

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Three Floyd’s Zombie Dust, The Worlds Ballerest Pale Ale Gets the Chris Redfield Treatment, T-Virus Steeze

Pale ales have been largely passed over in this bustling world of DIPAs and O-ring fingering. Everyone wants to push that malt bill, get them mosaic hops, pound out some resinous tones and fuckall to sessionability and balance. It is like when Norwegian Black Metal lost its credibility and it was just all about 24th fret shredding. We all remember when that happened. But what about the old acorn penis pale ale? Sure it isn’t as big, but it has finesse and can go for long sessions. If you are expecting an asian penis reference, I will defer, the hop cone parallel is low hanging buds. A well done pale ale is amazing, more so than DIPAs in many ways. If you have ever rubbed Hoppy Birthday on your nips, you will know what I mean. Let’s fuck an undead woman in today’s review, so you can lose your -1 virginity once and for all.

If you posted this as your Walking Dead beer, I approve, but I kinda dont.  SO CONFLICTED.

If you posted this as your Walking Dead beer, I approve, but I kinda dont. SO CONFLICTED.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
American Pale Ale (APA) | 6.40% ABV

A: For a pale ale, I was expecting some sort of foamy splishy splashy affair, but this is kinda menacing, deep gold tones like those elaborate medals that dictators in Africa always rock. The carbonation is nice and subsides gently in a “pillowy cloud of douchey metaphors.” You get lil archipelagos of lacing and fuck yes I just spelled that without spell check. I dont really want it to be this dark, but, it’s kinda like when Kefka blew up the world, you know that Locke and Sabin will pull through this shit, even if you have to catch fish for 15 minutes.

the label is creepy, this beer is scary drinkable, but in the end you want to give it a hug and tell it everything will be ok

the label is creepy, this beer is scary drinkable, but in the end you want to give it a hug and tell it everything will be ok

S: God damn, this is like the Donkey Kong Jr. version of Kern River Citra. Seriously, it has mango, peach, dandelions, a light tree sap on the very end but just feels warm and inviting like a shot of fernet branca in your favorite whorehouse while away on a work trip in Amsterdam. You know the type.

T: This is more akin to hopslam at the outset with the janky cloying honey front but then the citra hops push that shit aside and it almost reminds me of that balance that Two Hearted has for a moment but then shit goes more Sculpinerer and finishes with a deeper orange rind zest. This is all painted on the canvas of an incredibly delicate resolution. If you have ever watched shrimping videos online, there’s a certain aplomb and gentleness to fucking someone’s feet that is difficult to look down upon. This is easily one of the best pale ales I have ever tasted, if not the best.

Drinking powerful ass pale ales will prepare you for some impending dystopian apocalypse.

Drinking powerful ass pale ales will prepare you for some impending dystopian apocalypse.

M: This is light and crackly at the outset and leaves streaking of tree sap resin, but in a saucy playful way on the backend and there is some light aserose aspects on the swallow. This is so god damn light but have in the vapors I feel like I am in a Eugene O’Neill play straight waving my face, getting the vapors and wiping my forehead from the execution. Shit is bomb.edu.

D: It would be an aggressive understatement to try and capture the drinkability of this beer. It was bottled 8 days ago and I currently have 40 bottles in my fridge with zero fucks given. Maybe I will give them out at Churchills Finest Hour, maybe I will buttchug some, who knows. Your rectum is the limit with a beer this clean and sessionable. I know DINT, whereever he is, will tell me that I am a shar pei dick for suggesting that a 6%+ beer is sessionable, but for serious, it is. I know we aren’t shooting darts at the pub and eating beans on toast, but if you need to bang a girl from the midwest, this beer will help you get in those Mudd Jeans I am sure they are still wearing. Midwest chicks probably still wear those wonky ass rhinestone BEBE tank tops flossing so hard. Alas I digress.

oh shit I just drank 6 of these on accident? Ruh-roh.

oh shit I just drank 6 of these on accident? Ruh-roh.

Narrative: Three hours, Chris had three fucking hours to mix this vjolt, pour it in the plant, harvest the hop cones, run up to the observatory, get fucking attacked by crows and finish mixing up his zombie elixir. Who even made this fucking mansion? Some doors require that you place symbols in completely different rooms and gems in moose heads. It seems like if you were living here on a regular basis that would get tedious. Annoyed Chris clutched his resinous v jolt vial and headed for the lauter tun, all he had to do was play Moonlight Sonata on the piano to access the lab. The real estate agent must have been less than forthright when she was showing off this Victorian mansion. Earlier Chris was attempting to get some grain from the storehouse and apparently one of the features of this 18th century gem was a sliding ceiling that would kill someone if they removed a broken shotgun from the parlor. It didn’t make sense, but soon Chris would have a sticky icky potable to sip on. If only he could get his hands on a dank Jill sammich he would be all set.