Fartcastle!

I could drink Newcastle all day long. A more eminently drinkable beer I have yet to discover. Sure, there are others that taste better and are more craftily crafted, and there are several others that top my list – Sierra Pale Ale Uber Alles! – but that Newcastle sure is drinkable. It’s like a 4-season sleeping bag, too – that lion does just fine in winter or summer. And for the dorkus malorkuses out there who would do such a thing, the label probably makes for a nice tattoo (I myself would probably go with a tat of the Sierra Barleywine label; if you’re going to get a stupid tattoo, it might as well have a touch of humor).

I also wonder whether there is some psychological component to my enjoyment of this particular brand in that the difference between the capped bottle and the empty one is strikingly different from a visual perspective. One minute it’s the brownest of the brown beers, to borrow slightly from Lionel Hutz, and the next minute it’s a clear glass lab beaker with a label. Stella, Sierra, etc…they don’t change much. A green or brown bottle is the same color, full or empty. And with other clear-bottled beers like Sol and Corona, you’re actually a little glad that you’re no longer holding a bottle that appears to be full of, and often tastes like, piss. With Newcastle, the difference is stark. That beer is gone.

The problem is that it’s also quite fartable. It’s like a post-college hookup – you want to spend all night with it, but then you discover in the morning that it wants to spend all day with you, tooting and rumbling around, and it ain’t as pretty or enticing as it was the night before. A price for everything.

I was going to buy one keg of Newcastle and one of Sierra Pale for my nuptials until I realized that I would to end up with either a ton of leftover beer or a tent full of completely hammered drunk-driving enthusiasts, many of whom would be relatives. Ice Cube can’t be havin’ that, G. So now I have to decide which keg to buy, and it’s more difficult than I would like. I suppose I’ll choose one, then get a case or two of the other one and perhaps some Stella for class and kick. Mmmm, Stella. Many a cold, cold Stella was servethed up to me in the Kong, resulting in weavy ducky downhill walks.

So what’s the point of this post? Nothing, dogg. Just talking about beer is all. Why, you want one? Come on, let’s go.