Michelob Ultra
This is 95 calories. You know it's 95 calories. You've heard. This beer
is like a middle-aged balding white guy telling you how important to him
the new Mos Def album was. It's like your mom trying to be hip by saying
she "feels the niggas' pain." Those dudes to whom the number
of a calories a beer has actually matters will love this -- it will remind
them what if feels like to get a blow job through an electric blanket.
Rating: Soothing.
Coors Light
More than half of the women in New Jersey can blame their unwanted pregnancies
on Coors Light. It's also universally known as the beverage of choice
for men who wear braided belts and Co-Ed Naked Volleyball T-shirts. Despite
its popularity, this beer is as flaccid as an impotent monk with testicular
cancer. I'd rather have somebody pee in my mouth after they've just won
an asparagus-eating contest.
Rating: Soulless.
Lowenbrau
A new day is rising -- and it's Lowenbrau. You have one of these and you
head back to the docks, skipping. The taste is precise -- it's mathematically
correct in every way -- and was good from the very first sip until the
very last sip. Remember, this came from the wily Germans. It's what you
would expect from the kind of people who built the autobahn.
Rating: Imported.
Club
The modern white male, all too willing to discount the cheap international
beer, has overlooked this magnificent bottle from Ecuador, where wealth
is measured in Club bottlecaps. "Eh, it's just Club," Whiteys
snicker, looking at the primitive label. Sure, it looks like a generic
beer from some D-list slasher film, but then you'd miss the subtle coffee
undertones, you honky oppressors.
Rating: Four feet tall, hard-working.
Ever been tea-bagged by a Central American migrant worker? If not, Suprema, El Salvador's "most supreme" beer, will leave a similar aftertaste without the messy hang-ups and awkward silence the next morning. After the first sip, my taste buds incited a riot that knocked out two of my teeth and cut off half my tongue. I've never been to El Salvador, but I can only imagine its people stay away from this "beverage" and instead opt for a more flavorful thirst quencher. Perhaps donkey vomit?
Rating: Scrotum-ey.
Brewed in a bar that until 20 years ago allowed only men, this has that signature Irish combination of texture and composition that embodies the smoldering desire for furious butt sex. Two swigs of this light, airy amber, and you'll be tossing salads to old Tammy Faye Bakker videos 'til it's time to walk the Chihuahua. Alone, McSorley's wilts your inhibitions and warms your cockles -- but don't forget that you'll want to wash it down with the standard chaser: Sperm.
Rating: Anal.
Yes, something Mexican and dark can be useful. In fact, I enjoyed drinking Negra Modelo so much that mowing the lawn and cleaning the pool just didn't seem like such tedious chores any more, as I gleefully and efficiently finished both tasks after I finished one Modelo. Unfortunately, I had to fire Jorge, who supported his wife and fourteen children by doing those things. I do, however, plan on drinking more and more Negra Modelo. So, we'll call it a push for Mexican prosperity.
Rating: Guapo.
King Cobra
In the world of malt liquor, the more fearsome the animal and adjectives
in the beer's name, the bigger the beating that liquor is going to hand
you. And while King Cobra can't hold a candle to "High Gravity Red
Wolverine Ice Light," it's the kind of drink that sucker punches
your three-year old sister in the face and dares you to say something.
Rating: Say something, bitch!
Birra Moretti
Mister Moretti, like any other Italian man, loves to beat the crap out
of his wife. Deplorable, to be sure, but the beer Mister Moretti brews
is sensational. After one bottle, I feel like riding a gondola and shoving
provolone down my pants. Yes, it's that good.
Rating: Belisimo.
Rheingold
It's so elegant. I feel like I'm in the Fatherland. Mein gott! Those Nazis
must have put up a tougher fight than we remember. The white can makes
this look like a pussy beer, but it's surprisingly hearty.
Rating: Seig heil.
Kinsale Irish
Yuppie scum will love this beer. It's as if Buffy and Roger were sitting
around Martha's Vineyard dreaming of the perfect Irish lager. Someone
should remind these nouveau riche jackasses that Guinness is a real Irish
beer. This is the beer for people who like it when Sean Connery says "You
the man, dog."
Rating: Bennigan's.
Red Dog
This beer, like its eponymous canine, tastes like it was aged seven years
in the basement of a Midwestern frat boy who just learned the nitrous
tank ran dry. He's alone, the Hustlers are sticky and stained and all
his brothers have spent the night fucking his sister Amy, in town for
the weekend from south Jersey. It's time for date raping, and the Red
Dog, injected directly through her neck for maximum (and immediate) impact,
will do the trick nicely. Here's hoping her dad isn't a lawyer.
Rating: No means yes.
Sapporo
Although Japanese people are traditionally small, their beer is very big.
The can is long, languid, sleek and sexy and could possibly be mistaken
for a Libeskind architectural
model if it weren't filled with beer. Very good beer, that is. Every
time I took a sip, I had a tough time resisting the urge to bow incessantly
and thrash the can against a giant gong. Instead, I just went to my local
"massage" parlor and paid for a $50 hand-job. God bless Japanese
culture.
Rating: Bukkake.
Boom
The suggested retail price on this is 99 cents, which is probably the
reason why Czechoslovakia is such a war-torn, unhappy place to be. This
shit is like Starburst, with a huge fruit taste that makes us think that
a tidal wave of separatist hatred will sweep the living room. I claim
the loveseat, and anyone who says different can take it up with the United
Nations.
Rating: Boom!
Sam Adams Light
No, I did not scream like a woman after the first sip, but I did get an
erection so stiff that pigeons could not only roost on it, but also roller
skate across it. So, the ad hype around this beer is not completely inflated,
it is actually an outstanding beverage. It's so good I'd even let Sam
Adams nail me from behind and finish me off with a pearl necklace. Well,
the pearl necklace may be a little much, but it is good.
Rating: Strap-on.
This dark, rum-like beer says it's "one of the cheekiest ales around." It goes down a little too smoothly. Wait -- no, not too smoothly. I mean this is Dirty Dick. And he came to a pub in the 18th century and he didn't like to wash much. The bottle looks like a circumcised penis. There's a large, virile ram on the bottle next to some dude who looks like a scumbag. And I wouldn't want to associate with him or his beer.
Rating: Dick.
Night Flight
It comes in the back door. This beer doesn't blast the urban metropolitan
centre. It waits to drop leaflets over the town square, letting you know
your liver won't be the beneficiary of a good night's sleep. When you
drink this stealth bomber, it'll turn your pancreas into a biological
weapon. Nation building? U.N. sanctions? When you're done drinking this,
you'll feel like your anus just passed a resolution. If only France could
be so generous.
Rating: Democracy.
Foster's
Australian for beer? Don't expect us to be like the Oscars and be fooled
that Russell Crowe, some Aussie with a soup can for a crotch, can dominate
our awards. This beer is shockingly ordinary -- dare we say "Australian
for common swill" -- and it make us think that all that crap about
Nicole Kidman is mere overstatement. Like her, this beer is some pasty,
lanky overrated chick with no boobies.
Rating: Flat.
Tropical
So it's called Tropical, right? So I'm expecting some fruity, girly, concoction
served to me on some cruise ship for old people. The first sip sent me
gagging. Fruity my ass. Is this where the Norwalk virus came from? This
is a bottle full of 'rhea, and I might ash my cigarette in it for a garnish.
Rating: Donde esta el shitter?
Honey Brown
What freaking liars! There's no honey in this crap and the brownest thing
about the beer is the bottle. Why don't they just call this alcoholic
liquid?
Rating: Misrepresented.
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