Welcome back, fellow enthusiasts of the big brews! For the second volume of Macro Beer Advocate, we are buying you a round of American adjunct lagers that you can buy anywhere people without taste congregate.
Pabst Blue Ribbon: This clear bodied lager shines like a moment of clarity where you realize that you have been buying that jerky guy with greasy hair who is wearing capri pants his beers all night, and he thinks he is going to take you to his studio apartment on his bicycle and further unimpress himself into your pants. A powerful nose of sulphurous body order mixes with the conceited scent of being a dupe for marketing. A remarkably gritty mouthfeel of maybe I should start dating guys with jobs and going to places where people wear clothes that fit.
Hite: This luminous lager looks lighter than a map of Seoul at night time contrasted with a picture of pitch black Pyongyang. A non-existent nose because the fire chicken you smugly ordered in a Korean dive bar loudly proclaiming, “I LOVE spicy food, I have an IRON stomach,” is so hot that you just guzzled an entire pitcher through tear-stained eyes without breathing. A mouthfeel of euphoric relief, like a big old shot in the posterior that stops the burning from your peehole, which ironically is exactly how your butthole is going to feel tomorrow when you pass that chicken. A very weak finish as this style of beer helps Americans palatably water down their cultural experiences.
Stag: This glassy lager has the appearance of late-stage alcoholism and is as bright as the light at the end of the tunnel. An aromatic nose of steak, taters, and gravy that reminds you of the meals that you once used to eat instead of drink. A sweaty finish that turns ghost white and starts shaking, because you really need something stronger but you’re unemployed and can’t afford it, which leaves you sitting alone at the bar until you’re told, “Hey buddy, it’s time to go home,” because it is well past 3 AM and they want to close.
Until next time, enjoy! They keep brewing, we’ll keep reviewing. 12 cans later they all taste the same.
Did you miss the first volume? Read it here.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 