A Good Beer Blog

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Have you read The Unbearable Nonsense of Craft Beer - A Rant in Nine Acts by Alan and Max yet? It's out on Kindle as well as Lulu.

Maureen Ogle said this about the book: "... immensely readable, sometimes slightly surreal rumination on beer in general and craft beer in particular. Funny, witty, but most important: Smart. The beer geeks will likely get all cranky about it, but Alan and Max are the masters of cranky..."

Ron Pattinson said: "I'm in a rather odd situation. Because I appear in the book. A fictional version of me. It's a weird feeling."


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Kevin McG. -

My second go round, notice the rhyme pattern? Let me know what you think!

Wife and Boss wouldn’t agree with me this week,
Friday’s work is done and I leave for the bevy.
Smiles start to shine, rays of joy leak,
Troubles subside and pressures seep – the head’s less heavy.

Feeling on air, my thoughts drift to my local-
The Drinking Crew – Do I really need more trouble?
My eyes scan the latest craft brew, a bum gets vocal,
“Colt 45,” he yells as I reach for the Belgian-Type Dubbel.

With a beer in my hand, I’m ready for the world
Perhaps tonight I will bear my soul in a blog
Or whisper sweet nothings, as words are hurled,
Into a pint – I stumble and mumble into a fog,
When suddenly I realize the pleasures of life
And grin at my view of dubbel and wife.

--Kevin McG.

mallace -

Here's a serious one. I promise to return with one more light-hearted.

My younger friend likes to make meaning
whenever he opens a bottle.
We around him are held captive to such phrases as
‘The beer labels the man,’ and
‘Beer unlocks the gates to the
true soul of humanity,’ or
‘Beer is the rain that waters the crops of the mind,’ and
‘In the color of a man’s beer can be seen
the intensity of his intellect,’ or
‘A beer is the froth of fading hedonism
Atop the opaque dark elixir of hard work.’
I think he says these things because
His thoughts, aloud, make him less lonely,
And because silence in bars is so sad,
And because he likes playing the philosopher
Who consumes more than mere beer,
But also because he believes in them.
Like either the Buddha’s Flower Sermon
Or Sal Paradise’s Banana Sermon,
When he lofts an ale on high
Obliging us by propriety to follow,
The air clogs with ideas
We must wash down at once
In silence.

When I was a younger man,
I, too, wanted to find meaning by drinking
The World’s Best Beer.
I liked to think I would be drinking myself,
An old soul in the right glass.
Now, I haven’t the patience or discipline
To think it through; I have
Only so much love to pour out,
So many ideas to drink in.
I’d like to think that
Beer is just beer.
And yet I catch myself falling into silence
As my friend must fear falling himself.
If not for the effervescence sparkling across
The mahogany mirror poured out for me,
Keeping it trembling as if fearful of my visage
Coalescing beneath its surface
(just where it doesn’t want me)
Once the froth of hedonism fades,
I, too, might be tempted to divine the souls of my friends,
And my own soul,
Therein, despite myself.