This is one of two posts for today. One is frivolous. I’ll leave it to you to decide what the other is.
Yesterday’s beer haul (pun intended) included the following:
- 512 Whiskey Double Pecan Porter, a porter (obviously);
- Tilburgs Dutch Brown Ale (yes, a brown ale, again, obviously); and
- Saint Arnold Lawnmower, a German style Kolsch.
Those beers brought the “count” of different beers I’ve tasted at the Flying Saucer to 79, just 121 short of the magical number of 200, at which I will be immortalized with a plate on the ceiling. Unless I work hard to damage my liver in short order, it’s unlikely I’ll reach that magic number before my wife and I sell our house and move out of Dallas. That’s a shame. Odd though it may seem, the pursuit of the plate by spending time at the Saucer with friends has been among the most enjoyable and rewarding times I’ve spent in Dallas.
Such is life, though. Time to move on and do something different. If the NSA weren’t reading every word I wrote, I might suggest we all try something truly revolutionary like ejecting all sitting legislative, executive, and judicial branch officials and replacing them with nonpartisans who truly value the concepts set forth in the Constitution. But, since NSA is reading, I won’t suggest anything like that. Instead, I’ll suggest we all simply sit back and behave like the slovenly curs we have become. Wait! This was supposed to be a happy, positive post! How did it go so badly off course?
All right. Back to beer. Beer is a happy liquid. And that’s all I really need to say, isn’t it?
I could have said slovenly cat.
You say “slovenly cur” like it’s a bad thing, sir!