Mean Week: On Beer
It doesn’t taste good and makes you fat. All my friends like beer. Whenever they are like, “Let’s drink some beer!” I feel alienated and annoyed. What I like to drink is whiskey. Whiskey and water. Whiskey and ice. Whiskey and apple cider. Whiskey and Coke. Whiskey and a cut on my lip so I can introduce Mister Evan Williams to a little of my own 900 proof Man Blood, bitches. But beer! Ugh. Beer tastes like I’m licking some Russian boxer’s bonehole sweat after he’s been napping in a yak’s womb for a month. Again, all my friends like beer, and this is why I secretly hate them.
Some of my friends like Keystone Light and that’s whatever. Hardly counts. Keystone is to beer as a wink is to sex. But then some of my friends are all fancy Sierra Nevada Cumswing Winter Ale hoppy yeasty whatever, and I’m like, yeast. That’s great. In pie. Not in a fucking liquid. Seriously, it’s like Oh hey guys, I’ve got an idea. Let’s get drunk off a bread loaf. Yeah, fuck that. Oh, blah blah blah, let’s watch the Home Run Derby and have a beer. Let’s eat some taco salad and go for beers. Do you have any extra tickets to the curling match because I’ve got a duffel bag full of cold ones! Seriously, y’all, when you drink beer your face looks like it’s hard at work thinking of a new name for fish poo. Not gonna happen, folks. Poo be poo.
Besides, there’s so much other stuff to drink. I saw a dude drink blood out of a lamb skull one time. I saw a dude open up a smoke alarm and take out the batteries and drink the battery acid so we wouldn’t get caught. And you’re doing what, sitting around drinking beer? What, did you float above your mother like a motherfucking crackwhore angel during the miraculous rhythm of your conception and piss your cracked ass angel piss all over her O face? Because that’s basically what you’re doing when you drink beer. If I ever see another PBR can in my life I’m gonna scope out the nearest kneecap, slice it off with a chainsaw, and use that kneecap to beat the living fuck out of every PBR drinker in the room. If you ever drink beer in my presence, I’m going to go back in time and pour lye all over your fucking teddy bear. Then I’m going to take that teddy bear and put it in the blender. And then you’re gonna gulp down a fucking teddy bear smoothie while I rest my cowboy boot on your neck and sing Saginaw, Michigan. Guess what, beer drinkers? I’m going to wait until you’re taking the best shower of your life and then jump into the shower and beat out your teeth with the blunt end of a staple-gun.
The next beer can I see I’m going to inject with rabbit DNA, turn it into a bunny-beer hybrid, and let it hop around. I’m gonna let it hop down to the ravine. Go swimming. Oh look at the cute fucking bunny beer! Twitching around! I’m gonna let Mr. I’m Everybody’s Friend I’m A Bunny And A Beer What More Can You Want hop into a nice movie, eat some milk duds, let everybody think it’s cute and tasty. Then I’m gonna hijack a space ship. Enter orbit, and align the satellites of world into one big laser blast and blast that fucking bunny-beer into so many mercy-skanking bits that its eternal soul is going to forget how hope works. Fuck beer. I hate beer. You know what I love? I like raincoats, a little. If they’re nice.