The Beer Hunter

Let it be known: today starts the dawn of a glorious new era; an age in which light beer (or "Lite Beer" as it's known in the common vernacular) is only a disturbing memory, a campfire story told to frighten unruly children. A little over a year ago, I set out on a bold & daring experiment, in the same vein as the Curies, or that dude who discovered you could cure Polio with mold. Or was it cure VD with mold. I know mold cures something even though we always throw away bread the second we see a speck of green on the crust.

Now what the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah...Anyways, I vowed to only drink light beer, in the desperate hopes of enjoying the euphoric side-effects of the fermented barley, without the inconvenient after-effects of the distended-abdominal-syndrome more commonly known to the layman as a "beer belly". This, I discovered, was a harsh reality that was harder & harder to ignore the more "Mickey's Fine Malt Liquor" I consumed. Well, that & eating Jack in the Box @ midnight every night. Hey I worked the night shift, ok?

Ok so anyways, I decided the solution was ridiculously simple: swith to light beer, of course! And after a steady regimen of Miller Lite, I was happy enough. And yet, there was something amiss...I had to drink more than usual amount of beer to feel the soothing effects it's renowned for. And that soothing effect wasn't quite what I remembered it to be. Imagine, regularly putting the premium gas from Chevron in the tank, then suddenly switching to the cheapest pump at the AM-PM/ARCO. The difference is subtle, but not entirely intangible. And when I would splurge on paydays & buy a half-rack of Tecate (I know, I'm a regular Donald Trump), it would be a somewhat jarring experience. But hey, I'm not afraid of committment. I stayed on course for a year, a full year! I ended my freakin' twenties staying on course. See what happens when you throw yourself at a cause with blind devotion? You leave yourself vulnerable to the watered-down swill of compromise: Miller Lite, Coors Light, Michelob Ultra, Coors Aspen, Rooling Rock Green-Light, even Pabst Blue Ribbon light.

Well, finally, the shipmates on this tragic voyage have revolted, & turned the bow towards more esteemed waters.

I'm going to swallow my pride & let go of my dogmatic loyalty to domestic beer while I'm at it. Hey, with W in office, I only feel obligated to support the local (city & state) economy. St Louis & Milwaulkee are far away lands that will have to learn to survive without the allowance I've been doling out to them all this time.

After a bit of deliberation, I've decided to start with English beers, & then I'll see how long it takes me to get tired of them & move on to, oh I don't know, Mexican beer, then Japanese beer. I'll probably skip over German beer (try some if you wanna know why) but maybe Dutch beer will make up for it, isn't that in the general vicinity? It's a mission of world diplomacy, & I can say with a straight face that I now consider myself the James Bond of lagers & ales (& the occasional stout of course), on a perilous mission to stop the sinister, shadowy group known only as Anhueiser-Busch. Wish me godspeed, & have a drink on me.