Pimpin' Ain't Yeasty: Craft Beer Blogger Comedian Reviews Bum Beer For Bum Wine Bob

That was me, passed out with my pet hedgehog Shabby, after a long night of drinking the magnificently exquisite delicacy that is Pabst Blue Ribbon.  

How does one even begin to describe the complexities of a PBR? Just observing the can makes my beard grow thicker, my pants constrict tighter, and I become overwhelmed by an influx of new tattoo ideas. 

The brew master starts by selecting only the highest quality aluminum for the can. Pabst is so refreshingly light that it adapts to the subtle metallic essence of its surroundings. You'll experience flavors your pallet has never paired, such as fresh Amarillo and bullion hops that generate sweets malts flushed with grassy aromas of harvest time. So drowned by spices you'll quickly forget you're in a bar in the suburbs and become transported to the curry spice markets of Mumbai. Its wild honey color has been faded in the sun on a warm day in June. Woodsy floral undertones, with an aftertaste that stings like the bee that pollinated the hops, but then immediately softens like the touch of a rose petal brushing against one's cheek. 

I can't contemplate why anyone would ever drink anything but Pabst Blue Ribbon. I used to drink craft beer, back in the 90's when it was cool. Now I exclusively go to hipster bars with a minimum of 15 micro brews on tap. I always ask the bartender for their recommendation for best seasonal brew on tap. Then I give them a little wink and say, "you know I'm joking, of course you did, you knew the second I walked in here I'd be drinking nothing but the best, nothing but the blue ribbon."

Follow this think to my blog Pimpinaintyeasty.blogspot.com for more critiques and adventures with craft beers.  

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