Samuel Adams Red AleThe Boston Beer Company
Boston, MA
Well, this time my gastrinomical preamble is boiled chicken and a cheese stick so is it any wonder why I am the bathrobe sheba of the pregger's pause and you are the Barbara Streisand of für real? Awwww... hell. I've been put off by red ale for awhile now because of their persnickety blandness. I say that because breweries keep pumping these red fuckers out with no soul and instead of us treating them like the Devil, thy hoi polloi embraces them as if they were Sandy Clawz the wintry magician.
Most Reds are worse than Commies and I'll be gawd-damned if the vast majority of deer-brinkers and coam-futters aren't repudiated minute men of the simple servile labor force of the indistinct anyway. Listen, I ain't the king of Peru and if I'm inclined to shift something it's more likely to be the golden egg in the Mrs. Grass soup carton than it is the magic bullion of AU. I'll tell you what anyway... bah- a sermon is the second-from-last thing on my addled mind, next to your soul and my desire for clarity. I actually liked this beer more than getting my redwings and I ain't talking hockey, bub.
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