Mortars, Guns, Machettes….egh, the insurgents just find them all too boring of tools for killing invasive American Geologists.  Poison beer, now that’s fun!  That’s right, apparently the Wikileak documents purport that the ISI (Afghan spy agency) and insurgents actually intended on using the method with regularity.  Americans do love them some beer, after all.  And one American Geologists claims to have been a victim:

James Yeager, an American geologist who advised Afghanistan’s Ministry of Mines, tells the Monitor he returned to his residence in Kabul to find it had been burgled. The intruder took money from a drawer and left behind a bottle of Corona beer.

The Corona bottle sat on his counter for the next two weeks Yeager says, because Corona is one of his least favorite beers. He finally opened it during a going away party as the other drinks began to run low.

“I pulled it out and when I popped it there was no fizz and the cap was loose,” says Yeager. “Because this one didn’t have fizz you wonder if it went rancid or not, and I just kind of sniffed it and I went ‘Oh, that doesn’t smell like beer.’ ”

Yeager, a geochemist familiar with acids, realized it smelled like sulfuric acid – otherwise known as battery acid. He called a friend over who had the same reaction to the smell. Yeager poured the “beer” into the toilet and it foamed and fizzed, leaving “no question” in his mind it was sulfuric acid.

Interestingly, the plan seems to have fouled up a bit at the beer choice.  Had it not been a disgusting Corona and perhaps a nice IPA, Yeager would have quaffed the beer without hesitating. Silly insurgents.  They didn’t even leave a lime?  Lucky for Yeager, his discriminating taste buds saved him from an esophagus full of Sulphuric Acid.

This puts a whole new spin on the term, “Alcohol Poisoning.”

In case anybody wonders, I will not be visiting Afghanistan any time soon.

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So occasionally, we will post a picture of an individual(s) and as our readers to do that which are politically-correct-obsessed society detests…stereotype the face(s) associated with the post. What do they drink? Why do they drink it? Where do they drink it? Where do they buy their clothes?…the sky is the limit. Just try to be nice. We here at Thank Heaven For Beer don’t mean to offend…in fact, our own mugshots have faced the ridicule of Stereotype Me. We applaud diversity (as long is it walks, talks, looks, and smells like us) just as we do sarcastic humor.

With out further ado…stereotype this tower of baldness:

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So the other night, I poured myself a glass of beer in the evening.  It was later, probably 10pm.  The beer was actually a beer I wouldn’t normally buy, but I purchased it for $5.99 for a sixer at my local beer store:  Sierra Nevada’s Anniversary Ale. The stuff isn’t bad, it’s just boring.  Even at the great price I wouldn’t buy it again.

Anyway, even a lower ranking beer is delicious.  I took a few sips.  Very nice.  I settled back onto the couch turned the television on to Mythbusters (shut up).  The next thing I know, I’m waking up with a bit of sore neck and it’s 4am.  I look over, and there is the beer, sitting on the coffee table with only a sip missing.  If a glass of beer had eyes, this one would have been staring at me with sorrowful puppy dog eyes, begging for my attention.  And I could not give it any.  Besides the fact that the brew was now flat, I just can’t wake up at four in the morning and down 11 ounces of beer.  Maybe you can, but not me.

As I walked up to bed, I was so irritated with myself for falling asleep before I could finish that beer.  It’s all I could think about.  What a waste!

The sad thing is, is that this is a fairly common experience for me; maybe occurring once every couple of months.  Unfortunately, the beer is sometimes a very good beer that should not be wasted.  One time I remember waking up in the early morning in a sitting position with a full glass of Bell’s North Coast Old Ale, and exceptional and pricey beer.  All the next day the thought of that wasted brew bugged me like a splinter under my flesh.  I kept thinking of not only the wasted money, but how good it would have tasted.

This will happen again.  I wish it wouldn’t, but it will.  Even when I feel wide awake I’ll suddenly drift off.  There’s not much I can do to prevent it, besides avoiding hoppy beers at night (hops are a sedative), and that’s not going to happen.

Does this ever happen to you?

Does it bug you as badly as it bugs me when it does happen?

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Besides elevating beer in the epicurean world as a from a low brow beverage to a fine and delicious imbibement packed with culture and history, Michael Jackson quite literally defined what beer is (The World Guide To Beer)

There is no need for me to rehash a biography of Jackson since 1) that is not the gist of this post and 2) it has already been done (in fact Wikipedia does a decent job, as does BeerHunter.com).   Simply put, I found another reason to be fond of Jackson.  I recently stumbled across a clip of Jackson on Late Night with Conan O’brien, and found it quite worthy of repeating.

The nature of beer is nicely summed up in the unpretentious, jovial, and passionate Jackson.  It is clear that while there is no aristocratic/snobby air about him, he is quite concerned with his conviction of the superiority of beer.  Since I never was given the chance to meet the man (who was tops on my list!), this clip will have to suffice.  I think that this clip answers the question “Who Was Michael Jackson” better than most encyclopedia abstracts.  Enjoy!

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Music and beer have gone together for ages.  In fact, many of the old hymns you may sing in your churches actually credit their music to old pub and drinking songs of the middle ages and earlier. And how many epic love songs were written after a few beers got the artist thinking introspectively?

The song you are listening to right now (which just oozes of pure awesomeness) I actually downloaded from some random MySpace music page back before the mighty empire of myspace tumbled.  I wish I could attribute some credit to the artists, whose names are “Scott and Jimmy,” but the MySpace page has long since vanished. It’s too bad.

Many a time I have sat down at my guitar and tried to compose a sonnet as lovely as “The Answer Is Beer,” but have always come up short. I hope to someday compose a song of such beauty. When I do, you will be the first to know?

Do you like the song? Have you written an ode to out beloved beverage?

“Though the question isn’t clear, the answer, is beer.”

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Andrea and I run.  We try to exercise and take good care of ourselves, so we find ourselves running around town.  Often times, when we are not running at the Rose Bowl, we jog to the park where I can do pull-ups and the like.  I never thought that I’d see some abstract and somewhat ridiculous art while running–but there I was.

Lap 1:  I see what looks like an old guy in a diaper with wings on his back standing behind a woman in a dress, who is sitting on a bench with a man beside her and a dog on her lap.  Meanwhile, the photographer is taking a picture of the scene.  Already this was strange because it was maybe more surreal that most things I’ve seen (even during my days of hallucination).  I happened to be listening to Helter Skelter while I was running, too…that didn’t help me from feeling like was tripping.

Lap 2:  I thought I had a better handle on the picture when I passed the second time.  The old man had a bow and arrow…ah!  He was cupid, but why was he old?  It must be old cupid shooting the man and the woman so that they’d fall in love.  Right?!

Lap 3:  I saw the peanut butter come out.  Apparently, the peanut butter was being placed on the cheek of the woman. Why?  I figured that out when I saw the dog going to town on the cheek of the young lady.  Was the picture getting clearer or more convoluted?

Lap 4:  I gave up trying to figure out what was going on so I just decided what the scene meant.  Apparently, love (or cupid) is old/old-fashioned.  Love has missed its mark and created the oddest of situations in which the owner and pet have a love relationship (what’s happening with the rest of that peanut butter?).

Is this just some random mumbling?  I suppose it is in a way, but it did get me thinking about beer.  Whenever I drink a beer one time, it’s immediately approachable.  The more “laps” I take on the beer, the more I get it.  Beer just isn’t one of those abstractions.  It’s accessible, meaningful, and not enigmatic.  As a bonus, no dogs have to lick your face for you to say something meaningful about your brew.  Thank God that beer is not abstract.  Can you imagine how painful it might be to try to keep pace with the example above?

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While dwelling on this quirky bunch of social progressives, my mind couldn’t resist wandering into beer world.  This happens to me at least 20 times a day.  I began considering the fact that perhaps there needs to be an “Elders of Beer” coalition.  Just as our Elders of Earth battle crimes to humanity in the here and now, surely there needs to be a coalition of beer elders to combat poor beer choice across the globe.  Besides, the space age is rapidly approaching.  According to Richard Dawkins, “…the likelihood is that, in 100,000 years time, we shall either have reverted to wild barbarism, or else civilisation will have advanced beyond all recognition–into colonies in outer space…”  Beer Geeks, we must have a representative body to ensure the existentence of quality beer when we live amongst the stars!

Unlike our earth elders, beer elders should be nominated democratically.  Who do you think should be on the Panel of the Elders of Beer?  What brewers stand out amongst the rest?  What beer critiques, authors, or journalists should make the list?  Seriously.  We want to know.  Who would you want to represent better beer?  Perhaps these guys?

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With out further ado…stereotype this guy:

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10. Neanderthal like Coors Light consumers were caught launching cans of the “Silver Bullet” at obsessed fans of the movie Twilight, fearing them to be actual vampires.  The company feared lawsuits.  Fortunately, no goths were hurt in the incidents.

9. Clever marketing.  Any press is good press.  Brittany Spears shaved her head, John and Kate Plus Eight parade their divorce across The Learning Channel, Sinéad O’Connor tore up a photo of the Pope, and MillerCoors “recalled” beer.

8. Someone forgot to urinate in the this particular batch.  Dang!

7. A disgruntled employee replaced the “r” in “Coors” with an “n” on all of one particular shipment of cans.   Fearing racial discrimination lawsuits, the company had no choice but to bite the bullet and dump profit.

6. A pipe routing mistake actually filled the cans with Miller Light.  The megolomaniacal company did not want their loyal brainwashed consumers to get too big for their britches after indulging in the fancy triple hopped delight mistakenly pumped into their cans.

5. A rogue brew master saw the light.  He was converted by a humble evangelistic beer blog.  One sip of that forbidden craft fruit and he had to forsake his Big-Brew collar.  To make penance for the past 25 years of false beer doctrine, the once faithful Coors Light Doctor of the Faith sacrificed his pension and gave a false executive order to recall a heretical beer that could pervert the palates of hundreds of gas station beer shoppers nation wide.  A hero.  A martry.  A saint.

4. Someone higher up in the chain of command at MillerCoors suffers from Histrionic Personality Disorder, otherwise known as “whoa is me” syndrome in which the inflicted can only find peace when chaos, pain, and sympathy engulf there life.  The “good” news that MillerCoors sales were up despite an economy gasping for air was just too much for this wacko to handle.  In order to accommodate his/her inner drama queen the recall was created, a twitter was sent, sympathy flooded in, and inner peace was restored to this individual.

3. A chemical flaw in the “cold activated can” pioneered by the brewing giant actually sported a red mountain when refrigerated.  Confused and thirsty low-brow consumers began flooding the company with complaints after many burst cans and messy microwave ovens.

2.The recall was legitimate.  A MillerCoors executive purchased a sixer of the tainted malt beverage, and discovered the batch had a foreign ingredient:  Flavor.  He called the brewery immediately.  The order was sent.  “You’re all fired!” he raged, “This beer does not taste like water, you idiots!”

1. Otherworldly visitors who have sacrificed muscle mass, reproductive organs, and taste buds for more brain mass and computing power,  traversed the galaxies and abducted the 16 wheeler containing the so called “recalled batch of beer” in order to perform cruel tests upon human lab rats aboard their mother ship.  Under pressure from the CIA, MillerCoors concocted the story in return for years of beverage contracts at future inaugural balls and parties.

DISCLAIMER:  This is satire.  If you frequently indulge in Coors Light and find yourself offended, please substitute any other beer variety at your discretion at each place “Coors Light” appears in this article.

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The group that I find to be particularly good at acting are people in commercials. Don’t laugh, I’m being serious. I have a certain group in mind when I say the above. Namely, I’m referencing those actors who are used in the big brewery beer commercials. Think about it: they are selling an inferior product and doing a good job at it. Does anybody recognize “drinkability,” “less filling,” or a certain Jet song from these commercials? Packaging is everything, apparently.

I can only believe that these burgeoning soap opera actors are destined for future greatness. Who else could pretend to think that Bud Light actually tastes good? That is acting. Admittedly, I have never possessed that quality of performance skills and it takes a real liar to pull it off.

Okay, so they pretend to like a terrible product. But they are such good actors that they convince much of the general population that they, the viewers themselves, like the beer, too. Consider this: how many people have taken their cue from these modern day Shakespearean actors? Their acting is so penetrating, so incisive, so absolute, that it rubs off on people. The drinkers themselves begin to pretend liking the beer. Who wouldn’t want the skill to bend people’s will?

I’ve often watched Saturday Night Live and seen co-actors crumble under the hilarity of Chris Farley. The guy is so funny that professionals can’t contain themselves. But none of these hold even a candle to the beer actors. Their product and farce is so laughable that one begins to wonder how they can keep from bursting in to uncontrollable convulsions. Yet they are steady and immovable objects, so great is their skill. The very fact that they are playing such a cosmic joke on the beer universe should bring them to tears with laughter.

Still, they hold true to their character of pretending that what they sell is not only palatable but superior. It’s like an adult selling a kid the flavor virtues that beets have over chocolate. Every adult knows the farce and does a poor job of establishing the very notion. This is not a problem for the beer actors. Why? Because they simply must be the best actors in the world!

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