Abstract: Though at first a tenuous argument, there is a comparison to be made between Chance the Rapper’s 2016 mixtape, Coloring Book, and Allagash Brewing Company’s Hoppy Table Beer. Both are both modest in content and approach—Chance’s album was free and widely available. Fantastic in every sense of the word, it also deals with humbling topics while being very lighthearted. Allagash released a similarly fantastic beer the same year despite the hype of huge haze bombs, and— echoing Michael Kiser, here— could have called it a session Belgian pale ale/IPA. However, they went another route because it wanted to be accessible to a wide audience and be true to themselves, the beer itself, and its image. Plus, the beer drinks well with the album. I’d want to meet Chance and Rob Tod equally for the same reasons. In this article, I will provide evidence of this esoteric relationship and prove that two different creative paths can converge in one beautiful destination. With an open mind, please consider the following.
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2016 was spent mostly drunk, stumbling through suburbia underneath the lampposts. The tall green oaks stretching over and above as stalactites, the nocturnal world was a cavern of summer hell. The creatures of the night, the specters of regret, slept in strangers’ beds or on sidewalks.
What used to tingle now went numb
As the sensation of subversion now became
Sitting in the taproom, on the barstool yet to be broken, listening to Coloring Book, a sermon was delivered.
Ain’t no Twitter in Heaven
The sun bled into the room like over-salted stirfry, pungent and nauseating.
Always good at hungover
A gift of gab
Thin and sharp
The puffed up
Get the fuck out of my bar
And you ain’t slick either
4:30 and the seesaw plateaus
Head upon the picnic tables
Bottle in hand.
Chorus blaring a
Gold as straw and so mellow
Yellow haze, white and sticky
Using words like effervescent
Like it means something
Pineapple and cat piss.
Like it means something.
Juicy fruit gum.
That’s more like it. Light pine and grapefruit.
Slight bandaid, but not to a fault
Classic latex glove.
Sterile, yet so dirty.
Pine. Peach. Pear. Dry Tonic water
—so, quinine and lemon?
coriander comes through, mostly towards the end.
That unmistakable, indescribable
and tropical all at the same time.
I’m telling you guys, the toilet works great!
*9.5 out of 10*
We sat in the front seat of the school bus and he showed me his YuGiOh cards, while I sat, reticent, eyes glazed over, straining to feign a doting air. I knew, glancing at his uniquely steady hands, that he could shoot up a school at a moment’s notice. Nobody liked Cory. Hell, I didn’t like Cory. I wrung my hands trying to bond with him over our favorite My Chemical Romance song as I contemplated abrading my groin with coarse sandpaper in a fetishistic act of escapism.
An arsenal of anxiety
Born out of bad timing
I invested in a few moments in purgatory
To dodge an intentional bullet.
These are the folks that might grow up,
Join the military
And vent their frustrations out alone
Or if they’re lucky
Start a family
Never talk about
That’s this beer. For everyone who considered suicide a fashion statement, there’s this beer. For everyone who got a little too much into Norse mythology, there’s this beer. For anyone who’s currently a CPA, there’s this God-forsaken Belgian Tripel.
Just give him the money and go.
Let him eat his taco bell in the food court
Apricot, hazy, gold around the edges of the glass. Bright, white, fluffy head. Moderate lacing.
banana acetone, white pepper, rosemary and thyme. Orange and grass.
For no one but himself
Apple cider, black pepper, bananas if they were bitter, bubblegum, buckwheat honey, baked apple. Cloyingly sweet…
But who will find them?
Effervescent, syrupy, medium thick.
Like the blood on li
My fin gers
*9.4 out of 10*
i’ve never committed adultery
the closest i’ve ever come
is flirting across town with two cats
in animal crossing.
i’ve never dabbled in that purple music.
that violin-laden chorus
punctuated with muted, arrogant trumpets and
spoiled with perverted
maybe I’ve slid a finger or two
into the opening of a can
but not before
its contents into an unfortunate willi becher
reminiscing to the days of
listening to “me and mrs. jones,”
in a market basket,
eating english muffins in the bread aisle
and drinking johnnie walker double black from
your mother got you
the cute grocery clerk asks you if you’re alright
passed out on the polyurethane covered tiles.
she doesn’t notice the crumbs
you don’t notice
she’s still in high school.
winters are magical.
the aperture captures
more than what is simply put
directly in its line of fire.
the work of art conveys
the true spirit of the artist
despite his silence.
got that danky lanky
take your pants off and pray
citrus pledge wipes
like the junction of lips on a cold night,
before copious apologies.
as I imagined that
with billy mays
to be oxy cleaned
by my oxy queen
peel the paint right off the wall.
the beer is good.
*9.8 out of 10*
My God, this beer smells incredible. It’s so bright and fruity! How distinctively tart, like a field of ripe red raspberries dancing in the cool breeze! The nose on this is so good I could just
Vote for Hillary Clinton.
*9.0 out of 10*
*9.9 out of 10*