In Defense of My Tipple

I thoroughly enjoy hand-crafted, full bodied micro-brews.  Delicious!  And who wouldn't want to imbibe beer that was brewed by Trappist monks in a deep, dank cave from a recipe passed down by Jesus?!  Sign me the eff up!  But there be a Recession on and that shiz is expensive.  Not only that, but these beers are usually crammed with so much sugar that, if I enjoy too many over the course of a few weeks, I tend to get a little hippy. 

So, until I'm on better financial footing - and to avoid unwanted ass swell -  it's going to be Miller Lite  - or any other Huge Brewery Conglomerate Lite - for this guy.  It's cheap, it's everywhere and, if you concentrate just a bit, it offers something resembling taste.

However, an occasional annoyance that accompanies this choice is THAT ONE GUY at the bar who loves - when I've just ordered a Miller Lite - I mean just loooves to declare that "Light beer is not real beer."

Seriously?!  Really, THAT ONE GUY?!  Did I just order a 1961 Bordeaux? No.  But it's not like I called for a pint of warm spit and Hoisin sauce either.  Your Sierra Rogue Dead Hat I Only Like Bands You Never Heard Of Ale costs like 6.75 a pint and I'm pullin' Millies for 2.50.  Fiscal prudence takes the day!

It always perplexes me.  THAT ONE GUY, and those of his ilk, really get uppity when it comes to beer.  I'm certain he fancies himself a bit of an armchair oenophile too!  (I'm loathe to think what he would say to my wine selection theorem: bottle of anything red + under eight dollars = Justin's mood elevated squared.)

And what if we weren't dealing with alcohol at all?  Were I into heavy drugs - and I'm talkin' like The Wire heavy - I bet I'd be in some derelict apartment building ready to blaze my pipe only to hear "Covington Thunder isn't real crack!"  THAT ONE GUY is everywhere.

What really sticks is that I'm not ordering for him.  I'm not putting barrel to ear and forcing him to drink a Silver Bullet lest he wants one to pass through his temporal lobe.  No.  I'm simply choosing to enjoy a brew that has no time for pretense or cask aging.  Want it cheap, cold, crisp, yellow and, yep, light. Don't want it to taste berry.  I want it to taste beery.  I don't want it to have a nose, notes or hints.  I want it to have seven more close by and just like it.

Sic Semper Tyrannis!!!