On the one hand, thank God it’s the end of the year. On the other hand, it’s time for another round of this year-end best-of beer bullshit. Here’s what to expect: Stupid fucking lists of masturbatory pomp and circumstance about beverages. If you want to contribute to this dumbassed annual tradition, send your list(s) via a Facebook message. Or, if you real sneaky, slide in those Insta DMs.
Here’s a picture of my two favorite boys:
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*
Alright, ALRIGHT; here’s long-time reader and Malt Fiction subscriber “Shawn’s” top 5 beers of the year. Don’t go crazy, everybody; just calm the fuck down. We all know how important this is. We’re going to get through it:
5. Hermit Thrush Brewery | Jolly Abbot (Sour Belgian Barleywine, 2015 vintage)
Sure, Bolio, pick something no one has ever heard of. You piece of shit. Oh, right, I was there when you tried that. You still suck.
4. Maine Beer Company | Lunch IPA (American IPA)
3. Hill Farmstead Brewery | Arthur (Farmhouse Ale, 2015 vintage)
SHIT SON, YOU CAN PUT THIS BEER IN YOUR TOP 5, BUT NOT “I LOVE YOU, HONEYBEAR” BY FATHER JOHN MISTY IN YOUR TOP 10 ALBUMS? FUCK YOU.
2. Bissell Brothers Brewing Co. | The Substance Ale (American IPA)
Okey dokey, Sam Blow, I’ll give you a pass on this one.
1. Brouwerij Rodenbach | Rodenbach Caractère Rouge (Flanders Red Ale)
THIS IS THE GODEL, ESCHER, BACH OF BEERS. FIGURES, BOLIO.
…fuck, where was I?
These are, uh, Shane Bowery’s favorite beers.
Shap hates music, I guess–
And he lives in Canada
You might as well call him Ted Cruz.
At least Ted Cruz probably likes “I Love You, Honeybear,” by Father John Misty.
Fuck you, Jane Blooey.
Now give me my money.
PLEASE free Shamu.
This is what I think of your top 5, Jim-
what the fuck
it tastes like Pliny.
Easy Coast folk
It’s like fresh Pliny
Shit the fuck up
Somebody KILL me
*Uh, what the fuck out of 10*
Hey, big guy;
Put on your wayfarers and step out onto the balcony.
Watch the palm trees sway in the wind.
Grab that special someone and enjoy the blazing sunset.
The waves lap against the shore ever so gently.
This calls for a toast;
You grab some refreshments for the both of you.
The lid of the can pops like the sound of a crashing ocean swell.
Clink your glasses, you beautiful people.
The hazy, bright yellow ale shimmers in the waning sunlight.
The aroma of freshly squeezed lemon bursts in the air.
“Wait, babe; grab the camera, the lighting is perfect.
–yeah, get in the picture. Yeah, that’s it. Wait, wait; bend over a little bit.
Oh, yeah, this is such a sexy shot.
Look at the color of this beer! It looks like a glass of frothy lemonade!
God damn, look at this!
–Wait, wait, no—I know, let me just upload this—
Then, suddenly, those clams from dinner finally hit you.
Dizzied, you began to flounder.
“Honey, are you alright? Oh God, hold on!”
Her dulcet tones begin to degrade into a squawk of the most reptilian persuasion.
The roar of high tide folds upon itself, dampened into television static
Even your vision begins to sputter out ants on a sidewalk.
You collapse upon the railing, hanging off the edge of the precipice.
The vomit begins to stream from your lips, your nostrils.
Your paramour arrives with a hot towel and words of comfort.
It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault It’s not your fault
In your moment of abject embarrassment and misery, it hits you–
Westbrook Brewing: providing the official beer of mustachioed beer hipsters everywhere!
Your life is a lie.
*9.0 out of 10*