I’ve had myself some beers here in Michigan. Here, there’s a bottle deposit – so if I go turn them in at the grocery store, I get a dime back for each one. It’s awesome. I rattle into town with a garbage bag full of pabst canisters. It’s not like people don’t stare or anything.

Anyway. My father recommended a beer called Shiner Bock about a half of a year ago. I tried it and thought, meh, it’s okay. Nothing special. Three or four months ago, I got a six pack of it here, and it’s amazing. I don’t know what was wrong with that first one. It’s delicious. I would happily roll around in a bathtub full of it. I would drink it on a train. I would drink it on a plane.

I didn’t know, until yesterday, that Shiner Bock makes another beer. It’s a schwarzbier (or however one spells it): a german style black beer. It is, if anything, even better. There are holes in my shoes because my socks were knocked off. Additionally, there’s a belgian ale called Duchess de Bourgogne which is sweet and tasty, but more of an appetizer than the meal itself.

Anyway. I am considering making some tater tots and buffalo sauce. And, perhaps, lying down on the floor and singing obscene songs.


One Response to Beers

  1. The Dad says:

    Caught up on your blogs today. Glad you started again. great amusement for me. Yes! I am still trying to figure out Comrade Zhang’s laughter also.

    Your beer story reminds me of the story about the kid who, when he was younger, thought his parents dumb as rocks. When he got older, he was amzaed how much they had learned in the meantime.

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