Could it be that I’ve been drinking too many beers to review them all? Or even any? Perhaps. That’s why this is going to be quick and a little different.
Here’s a little game called guess the head, for all you fuckers who stare at beers way too long instead of drinking them.
Give me head or give me death!
Give up? How’s about pour #2:
Absorb the darkness.
This Texas-Tea-looking shit is fucking Founder’s Imperial Stout. This stout is so dark and malty and fucking tasty like molasses. And not just any molasses – the kind of molasses you want to rub on your fucking dick and fuck somebody’s face with. This shit is so good, I’d trade my unborn children for it (or at least the baby batter). Seriously, with a little help, I polished off my CBX growler and then some that precious evening. Problem is, I was too far gone (and biased towards this shit) to form coherent thoughts about the other beers.
So I lost a day or two and went back in the fridge to see what was left. Check this gem:
Smuggler's Blues.
I use “gem” very fucking loosely. I picked up this beer in a convenience store in Austria just for shits. That’s pretty much what it was like. No taste except a hint of some fucking spice I can’t place. Vanilla? Pubes? No fucking clue.
I had to wash that fucking shit out of my mouth post haste. With this Southern Star Pine Belt Pale.
Don't you know you are a shooting star.
Wow. Talk about a good fucking beer. This shit is divine. I want to drink this side-by-side with a Dale’s to see which takes the canned beer cake. And that’s going a long fucking way. Not going to bore you with details about floral shit and nancy-ass fruit fucking aromas, but this beer was like a hopsplosion in my mouth. Imagine if a hops plant had a dick and you cradled the balls for a while and stroked until pure hopgasmic ecstasy blew all over your taste buds. That’s what you’ve got here. Good shit.
