A DVDVR BOOZE REVIEW!

[Guest DEAN RASMUSSEN]

God, I haven't done one of these in forever. I've been drinking things that have almost the quality savory taste and alcohol-level of my own urine. I told my wife that I was buying real beer and she saw the pathetic look in my eye and said "go ahead". Thus I went to Ellwood-Thompson and made a six. I also got the Dogfish Head SUPERDEATH concoction that clocks in at.... HOLY FUCK!... 20%. That's 7 Miller Lites in one bottle of booze. I'll drink that second so this will be the funniest Booze Reveiw Ever and we'll larf and larf and larf at the fabulous laufter. Or it will pathetic and sad. Who could be sure? Simpson reruns on tape- check! Lucky rusted churchkey of true problem alcoholism- check! Elegant, classy lager glahss- check! Overpriced fancy booze- CHECK! Let the drunkiness begin.

 

SPATEN OKTOBERFEST UR-MARZEN: I e-mailed Spaten last week to tell them that if they are good enough to send 600 cases to our boys fighting in Iraq, I'm gonna say "thank you" by buying Spaten the next time I buy real beer. This is pretty fucking fabulous for a overly regulated German BROO! Caramelly and hoppy like a homebrew with a zippy finish and LIGHTNESS AND FULLNESS ALL-ENCOMPASSING TOGETHER! I say thee YEA. Thou art the fabulous Spaten of October. It gets more watery the more you drink it, but if you're in Mosul and it's hot as living fuck and you wanna beer- they'll like this better than any Victory Storm King or any Oatmeal Stout. I drink one to the REAL Skullsplitters- the boys protecting our freedom and putting it on the line for you and me- the MEN and WOMEN of the US armed forces. This Spaten's for you, my true heroes. Hey, I just read the label and it's actually classified as a "malt liquor" so I'll pour some out for our dead homies.

 

DOGFISH HEAD WORLD WIDE STOUT: HOLY SHIT! I just went on the computer machine and found out that it's FUCKING TWENTY-THREE PERCENT AL-KEE-HAUL. That's like 8 beers in one. I'm afeered! I pour it out and it is JET BLACK, like India ink. I smell the booze; a pungent scent of alcohol burns the inner lining of my shnozz and my fears grow expotentially. FINALLY... we.... drink. Okay. En Lieu of the World Wide Stout moniker, they should call it the Suckerpunch Stout because- unlike Bigfoot Expedition, unlike La Fin Du Monde, unlike Skullsplitter- YOU CAN'T TASTE THE ALCOHOL! You could chug this. Once or twice, I guess. It's got the rubbery uzo-esque overtone that eats the alcohol taste away and leaves this beautiful l'essence du licorice that is sooo custom-built to deliver a dangerous amount of alcohol at a highly uncontrollable speed. Therein lies it's fault. If you are going to inject six tallboys of Magnum malt lickah into one 12 ounce bottle, you should have a taste that makes the alcohol penalty worth the hang-over. For a stout, it's not as thick and lovely as even the lesser stout in the general vicinity- Richmond's own Mobjack Old Coot Stout- much less compared to higher grade thick beers- lesser than Smuttynose Porter, Legend Porter, waaaay behind the beloved StormKing and Brooklyn Brewery Chocolate Stout. It's good but not enough to make up for the price and alcohol. It does develop a mellow syrup film on the top of your mouth makes the later sips more rewarding than the first few. Suddenly. BOOZE SOCIETY ELDER, YOUNG JOHN G calls back and we speak of the booze and I tell him of the World Wide Stout. We speak of the Ur stout in bottles at River City Brewery and at Mama Zu's. (it is German and is SMOKE brewed and it has this fucked up pepporoni taste that your tongue will never forget.) My phone starts dying and he says he heard a cool line from an American Music Club song and thought of me- "I think I came in my pants, hey honey, you wanna dance." I told him that my favorite AMC line is "If I wanted to be so lonely, I'd be alone." John's fixing to have his second child and we throw around names. We go back aways- twenty years almost. He introduced me to my wife. It was good to talk to him. Anyway, I talk shit about the overly quick drinkability of the WWS, but here I am staring at 7 OH ZEE undrank after 15 minutes. God, this shit does kick in as if one has foolishly dranken a booze that is 23% alcohol. And that's a good thing. I am watching the Simpson's Halloween episode with Stretchdude and Clobbergirl- my beaultiful daughters' number one favorite episode ever. By the 8th ounce, a citrusy taste kicks the tailend of the sip- like a mimosa poured through a pack of twizzlers and I 'm wondering if the active ingredient is acyually peyote or something. Spaten Oktoberfest is such a distant memory at this point. By O-Z 9, it gets all fizzy and weird, like it's become battery acid and it wants to kill you for drinking it so fast. I break out in a sweat and suddenly I see the beauty of the Dogfish Head World Wide Stout. The key is that it's 8 times stronger- alcohol-wise- than a regular beer. Thus, you become really fucked up really fast. It's like I am Beldar and I have drunkelen a six all at one time. Ounces 11 and 12 are a little harsh because a grain alcohol-like taste settles at the bottom and you can't ACTUALLY drink this whole beer fast enough to not have a warm ounce and half. It is now a TEST OF WILLS! ME- a fat GREAT AMERICAN- against a overpriced fannyboy beer pumped to the gills with testosterone. Fuck you beer, I was drinking corn whiskey when you were still in short pants. I was smoking opium back when you were still crappin yellah! (Here's where I would chug the vile last ounce in a macho display to.... nobody. Pretend I did. You'll never know the truth.) Dogfish Head World Wide Stout isn't that great TASTEWISE or DRINKING EXPERIENCE-WISE, but it like that first time you dryhumped your high school girlfriend- sweaty, repulsive, messy. And something you'll never forget. Annnnnd it's done.

 

CZECHZAR LAGER: Product of the Czech Republic, the home of the hottest female point guards ever. It has the smell of wet dogs and that is just what I need to break up the booze that is shooting directly into my brain. Czechvar is 5.0%, clear, light, crisp and doesn't have any ass behind. It reminds me of Boddington's in its true nothingness. It's got a weird dryness at the tail end of the sip that negates whatever miniscule taste it would muster. It's not bad at all- in that anything you hate in a beer doesn't exist. But it's not good at all- in that anything you like in a beer doesn't exist. This is Steel Reserve without the iron filings after taste. This is Budweiser without the shitty middle taste and shitty aftertaste. Upside is that you beerbong fifty gallons of this shit. Don't get me wrong. It's fine. I'm just not engorged and throbbing over any lager at this stage in the evening. It takes forever to drink. It becomes a chore to drink. I am not loving the Czechvar.

 

(Hey, the first Red Green episode I ever saw is on this tape. It's the one where they try to sell the canned goods that they saved for Y2k but they don't have labels on them. Dalton Humphries- whom I idnetify with the most on this show- tries to sell them. Steve Smith is great because he sells for the supporting cast like it's the Canuck version of the Bob Newhart Show- because THAT'S WHAT IT IS.)

 

SHEPHERD NEAME BISHOPS FINGER KENTISH ALE: I have no fucking idea what a Kentish Ale is. i do know that it is 5.4% and has the look of a brown ale. No discernible smell- unlike myself. mmmmm. Taste is very agreable. Very muted but like throwing cheesecloth over a Jackson Pollack- you can sense the multifaceted elements and colors (tastes) (caramel mostly) but very restrained. So British, so classy. I dig the Kentish Ale. Yes I do. hint of bitterness- but more of the IDEA of bitterness, never truly acted upon. More of a suggestion- a still water that runs deep. A fabulous beer. I would enjoy drinking a keg of this until I aromatically vomited it back up onto my black Wrangler jeans. It's that subtle and ccccccccccccccclllllllllllllllllaaasssssssssssssssseh! Four drinks in and it doesn't baffle my pallette into anything past a slight caramel/IDEA of bitterness. It's like me n the Kentish Ale have settled into a sexual groove. I finger it's virtual boozeclitoral root and it sucks my gigantic boozepenis- but it's classy like European softcore pornography. Roxy Music should be playing in the background and I can't seem to find any incense. Who can sleep in this heat- this night....

 

I have entered the world of drunkenness because I have started playing all the Richard Buckner that I have downloaded. "Lil Wallet Picture" makes me a weepy drunk. I have never been so in the moment. We are in Iraq and I want our boys to be successful. I have developed a bond with the Iraqi people and I want them to be successful. I want to dress like Hamid Karzai and visit Kabul when they mourn the Lion of Panjshir. "The lights on the street when i would walk to you at night, there were three little flames- his, mine and yours..."

 

SMUTTYNOSE OLD DOG BROWN DOG ALE: Smutty nose brung the residual love by producing the fucking awesome Smuttynose Robust Porter- one of the finest porters that I have ever had, to be sure. Their Brown ale is 5.7% and the taste is very nice. Not really much of a taste you can really describe- sorta like if this was a record it would a whole lot of perfectly mellow midrange. (The World Wide Stout doesn't completely beat your ass like you assume it would. I'm about as drunk as I would be after 7 or 8 beers. And I'm a large, old fat drunk. And could beat your fat ass any day of the week, ya young punk! Why back in my day, we watched Danger Mouse and Australia was making all the good films. That's right, it was fucking CRAZY. You. You. Ya young bastard, go rent "Gallipoli" and tell ME that that isn't the best motherfucking movie ever made about war ever. go ahead. TRY. TRY! That's right, motherfucker. You'll listen to me next time.) Halfway through, it gets a little testy and bitter but it could be it's unflattering place in line that it has in tonights booze-filled hit parade. I will speak no evil of the Smuttynose brewing company because I have now tried two of their concoctions and I have liked both.

 

Everything from here on out will taste like I have been sucking on a piece of Wonderbread so I'll save the Victory Whirlwind Witberg for my wife for when she gets off work tonight. It's been fun. Who could i love more than you? Nobody, that's who.

 

THERE YOU HAVE IT.

 

DEAN RASMUSSEN.