One of the most drearily frustrating things about the beery discourse is all the belief floating around. Not the opinions or personal experience or subjectivity. No, those things are fine. Given that we share a hobby that is essentially about infusing one's corporeal form with a mild intoxicant - because it is tasty and intoxicates mildly at a reasonable price - one should expect and even celebrate that the experience is interior as well as social. But there is that extra step. Do stamp collectors suffer from it? Do they crap on coin collectors and their coin collector ways? It's the need to give oneself and one's view of the hobby the little gold star that says "you and all you enjoy are the best-est!" It's the game call of the homer sportscaster. It offers the depth of the party loyalist whose vote is never in question ever. And it strikes at the oddest times because no one warns you that the discussion ended way before you entered the room.
Is it just the grogginess speaking or is it also because pure pastime has been infected additionally with adamance of cause? Is the effect of all this misplaced passion that we end up with the corrosion of simpler pleasure? It sure does seem sometimes that the social gets fairly anti-social when this solvent is the only bond between folk. Do the birdwatchers get like that? Does one always get nicknamed "Hoover" for sucking all the fun out? Probably. Frickin' bird nerds.