Beer Review #70: Sierra Nevada Narwhal Imperial Stout


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August Reader Mail

Could you rank the best Halloween candies? – June from Ohio

No, but here are the worst:

5. Anything from Asia
4. Nerds
3. Candy Corn
2. Smarties
1. Almond Joy/Mounds

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? – Anonymous

I hope someone digs your grandma’s corpse up and puts it in your bathtub.

What TV shows do you like right now? – Bill from D.C.

I tape myself showering and watch the highlights during primetime hours. Summer TV is awful.

What kind of beer would you recommend for a guy that doesn’t want to seem like a hipster, wants to drink on the cheap, and wants to avoid the major breweries? – Alex from Pennsylvania

Well if you’re in Pennsylvania you should have easy access to Yeungling. I take it that you want to get away from that though, so I’ll say go for a nice wheat beer. It’s Summer and few things are more refreshing. You can find Hoegaarden pretty much anywhere. Go with that. (I need to review that.)

If you have a question find us on Facebook, Twitter, or just send an e-mail. It will probably be ignored, but at least you tried. Play your cards right and we can exchange nudes!

Narwhal Imperial Stout

Narwhal Imperial Stout

Appearance: What’s most striking about this beer is that it’s jet black and stagnant. This combination of factors, when combined with my clean glass, cause it to be extremely reflective. Not only can light not penetrate it, it’s repelled. The head is rich, colored like Honey Nut Cheerios, and laces in a nearly unbelievable way.

I’ve also noticed that it is incredibly sticky. I managed to shear off the top of the bottle when I cracked this one open and now everything that I touch is sticking to me.

Smell: Nuanced. The expected chocolate is just sweet enough to not offend the nose. The signature hoppiness of Sierra Nevada cuts though and blends with the sweet chocolate to make you feel like your walking through a field of barely just ready for harvest. I also get something reminiscent of prunes.

Taste: Given how sticky it is, the body is surprisingly not as thick as I expected. Medium mouthfeel with almost no carbonation.

The hops are right in your face with this stout. A certain café con leche sweetness coats the tongue throughout the drinking experience, but everything give way to fresh fragrant hops. It finishes pretty clean, but does leave a stinging bitterness. It’d be nice if some of that prune aroma came though.

Overall: This was fun, but it felt off. It seemed like this beer wanted to be too much. It’s certainly not bad, but this is not what I’d want out of an imperial stout. 78/100 is the best that I can do. Something didn’t work.

Up Next: Some sort of wheat beer.

Love in the Desert

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t like me,” sighed Mary Magdelene. “We have so much in common, and I’m pretty damn godly as far as humans go…”

“Who, Jesus?”, asked the other Mary. “Trust me, Maggie, it’s not you.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s me. There’s nothing wrong with Jesus–he has no faults, so it has to be my fault.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think he’s into the fairer sex if you know what I mean. You’ve seen him and his dad… it’s fucking weird. And him and Peter? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Now that you mention it… maybe. The disciples are unusually glamorous.”

Meanwhile, in the far from luscious desert landscape, Peter and Jesus sat under a tree, looking fine as hell.

“So, what about that John, eh Jesus?”

“Uh… erm… John? What?” stammered Jesus, who was suddenly suffering a violent case of red face (which no one could see because his skin was dark as night).

“Haha! I knew it!” said Peter. “You should go for it. I think he’s feeling the same way. I saw you two splashing around in the Jordan.” Peter flashed an irresistible wink.

That was a baptism,” hissed Jesus.

Peter rolled his magnificently sparkling chocolate eyes. “Oh, but it was much more than that, wasn’t it?” he said with a smirk that had lusciousness the desert had never known.

“I thought I was the only one who felt it. Besides, I can’t do it,” said Jesus. “You know I love you, Peter. I would never betray you.”

“Well, I would betray you if it came down to it, and honestly, I want this for you. You’ve always accepted that I have a girlfriend, and I would accept it too if you went out with John. I’m going to love you no matter what–even if you get nailed by John, or even by Romans.”

“Oh, Peter!” said Jesus, falling into Peter’s strong arms. At this moment, the least sinful of lusts took over them underneath the fig tree, and during this time, many Samaritans cheered them on. Samaritans. Those sluts.

Later, in the dusty and romantic sunset of the desert, Jesus knocked on John’s door tentatively.

“Oh, hello, Jesus. What are you doing around here? I thought you usually told off the idiots of town with elaborate parables at this time of night,” said John, smoothly and casually. John had already taken off his robe and slipped into something more comfortable for the night, which was both exhilarating and terrifying for Jesus, who was planning on asking John to platonic coffee to test the waters.

“I, um.. I was going to ask you… coffee? Or something…” stammered Jesus. Jesus was always stammering. It was kind of annoying, but his hair made up for it.

“I know what you’re going to say. Come inside, Jesus.”

And from the window of John’s humble shack, Mary wept.



Will Mary ever find true love? Will John and Jesus’s night together lead to something more? Will Jesus die and then come back to life three days later as a straight man, breaking the hearts of John and Peter, and fall madly in love with Mary, but too late? Find out in our next book, The Betrayal, for just $7.99, or for much, much, more at your nearest Barnes and Noble bookstore.

Beer Review #69: Stone Espresso Imperial Russian Stout


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July Reader Mail

Who’s the most famous person that you’ve ever met? – Clark from Ohio

The cat puppet from Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Not the puppeteer, just the puppet.

I’m having a lot of trouble getting girls to go home with me. Any good closing lines? – Steve from New York

No. You shouldn’t be using any lines. Tell them that it’s time to go back to your place or else.

My boyfriend won’t have sex with me when I’m having my period. Thoughts? – Jill from “I’m not telling you where I live”

You’re having too many periods. Stop it.

Like always, check out Facebook and Twitter for extra content and feel free to send an e-mail if you want to ask a question for next month’s mail dump. Here’s the review. Don’t drink stouts on hot Summer days.

Stone Espresso Imperial Russian Stout

Stone Espresso Imperial Russian Stout

Appearance: This is easily the darkest, most opaque beer that I’ve ever encountered. I put a flashlight behind it and not a single photon made it through this slick, oily stout. The head is a deep brown reminiscent of a sandy beach on the eastern U.S. coast. That head is thick and unforgiving. This beer looks like it wants to hurt you.

Smell: Lots and lots of coffee; like working the line at Waffle House when the only customers are edgy teens that won’t order food. A good vapor of alcohol fills the air as soon as the beer begins to pour. Sweetness.

Taste: This is a thick beer. You could chew it if you really wanted to. There’s a surprisingly high level of carbonation too.

It tastes of bitter dark roasted coffee, sweet malt, and finishes with a grating alcohol taste that really forces its way around your mouth. It’s certainly sweeter than I’d expect a Stone product to be and the taste really sticks with you for quite some time.

Overall: I just noticed that this beer is 11%. I am feeling each and every part of that. This is a beer for a man that has no obligations the next day. This is a beer that you’d drink if you wanted the world to know that you don’t give a fuck. I love stouts, they are my lifeblood, but, while this looks great, I can’t forgive that offensive alcohol presence that invades this experience. 81/100.

Up Next: Sierra Nevada Narwhal Imperial Stout

Beer Review #68: Natural Light


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So, on Wednesday I get a message on Facebook from some girl I kinda know. She asks me if I’m dating anyone. She’s cute enough, so I tell her that I’m single. She proceeds to tell me that a friend of hers saw something funny that I posted and asked her to ask me out for her. I get a link to this other girl’s Facebook page and I’m digging what I see. She looked like a high school cheerleader that bullied kids at lunch, that girl that knew she could get by on her looks and treat people like dirt; my type.

So I send this new girl, Karen, a message. She responds with glee and wants to meet up sometime soon. We chat a bit and plan something for Friday night. So far everything is going great. The victim rarely approaches me first.

That afternoon I get to our planned meetup spot and order myself a double of whatever rye they had. I’m on my A-game with an empty stomach and a couple fingers of whiskey. I shoot the shit with the bartender a bit when I notice a disturbance in the force.

It honestly felt like that scene in Jurassic Park when the T-Rex makes it’s first approach and you can see the vibrations from its movement in your drink. I drain my drink, in fear that it will be my last, and hear the bar stool next to me squeal like the Titanic making contact with an iceberg. I look to my right and see a girl that resembles the picture from Facebook, but she’s 150 pounds heavier and looks demented and greasy.

She flashes a creepy grin and says how nice it is to finally see me in person. Before I can respond she picks up a menu screams out, to nobody in particular, an order for some awful blue drink and three different appetizers.

A bit stunned, I ask if she’s Karen. She giggles and says, “Of course. Who else would I be silly?”

“Well, you don’t look anything like your Facebook profile picture.”

“Oh yeah, My sister and I swapped profile pictures right before you messaged me. I forgot about that.”

“That seems weird. Why weren’t there any other pictures of you on your Facebook page?”

“Oooo, you’ve been stalking me.”

Her drink arrived, some enormous, sugary aquamarine miscarriage of a drink, and she sucked it down through a straw near instantaneously. “You must really like what you see if you tried to go through my pics.” She wobbled a bit, trying to mimic what an attractive girl would do.

“I liked what I SAW, but that was someone else. I’m really sorry, but you’re not really what I’m in to. I’ll cover these drinks, but then I’m going to go.”

“Are you gay? You only like girls that look like little boys?”

“Wha? I’m… sure yeah, I’d actually much rather be with a little boy than you. At least then I could go on a walk without fear of my date fainting”

I hailed the barmen, told him that I’d like to cover the drinks, laid down some cash, and began to go on my way.

“Before I go”, I asked, “do you think I could get your sister’s number?”

She screeched like a beached whale and began hurling insults. I smiled, spun, and moonwalked out of the restaurant. As I was leaving, the barman asked her if she still wanted the food. She screamed yes. I began laughing uncontrollably.

The Moral: Never trust a girl that doesn’t have albums full of pictures on Facebook. That should have been a dead giveaway to me that something was wrong. All girls love photos, especially when they’re in them. Also, there’s nothing wrong with being overweight, but be honest. I’ve got to plan a budget around that.

Remember to do the whole Facebook and Twitter thing. There’s e-mail too. Send in a question for the monthly reader mail bit. And now, the Trilogy of Terror becomes a quadrology.

Natty Light

Natty Light

Appearance: You remember when, as a kid, your mom would order a pizza on one of those special nights? You’d get super excited thinking about that delicious melty cheese and perfectly salty pepperonis. Mom decides to jump in the shower real quick because she just got off work and is ready to relax knowing she doesn’t have to cook. Whle she’s lathering up, the doorbell rings. The pizza is here. Dread sets in. You’re 8. You don’t know what to do. You open the door and stare awkwardly at the delivery driver. They try to figure out where your parents are so they can get their money and get back to work. You piss yourself in fear. That’s what this beer looks like.

Smell: Near non-existent. I suppose if you forced it under the average person’s nose and asked them what it was they’d say “beer”, but it’s hard to really pick out what that means.

Taste: It has a watery body and a cloying astringency. It’s bland. That’s great for college parties during which you may be shotgunning and beer bonginng, but by no stretch of the imagination is any part of this beer pleasant on the tongue. It even has a nice sour aftertaste just to give you one last middle finger.

Overall: This score is only as high as it is because the beer didn’t actually smell bad. 18/100. I don’t know why I keep subjecting myself to these awful, awful beers, but hopefully this was the last of them for some time.

Up Next: A black lager, I think.

Beer Review #67: Chimay Blue


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I feel like we’re due for some new memes. I can only see so many Confession Bears that are just thinly-veiled racism before I get bored. Here are my new offerings. Tell me what you think on Twitter @BoozeTweets or at the Facebook page. I guess you can send an e-mail to, but unless there are nude pics in it I likely won’t open it.

Immoral Lawn Sprinkler that has its first Period at the worst time





This is still a work in  progress. If you have ideas do that thing I said to do at the top of this post. Here’s the beer review.

Chimay Blue

Chimay Blue

Appearance: Explosive. It hits the bottom of my glass and erupts into a brilliantly strong head with an impressive, almost hazelnut, color. It’s big and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Strong bubbles are just barely visible through the thick and hazy dark, grapefruit color. This looks like a piece of art.

Smell: Surprisingly muted. What does comes off is toasted nuts, maybe some cherries, and a bit of alcohol.

Taste: A letdown. A very, very thin mouthfeel; reminiscent of cold fruit juice. An offensive alcohol taste fills the mouth in such a way that it makes it hard to taste much else. There’s a nice roasted flavor. It certainly gets better and better as my hand starts to warm the glass. The previously overpowering tastes have given way to raisins, coffee cake, and something slightly spicy.

Overall: 79/100.  I made the mistake of getting my hopes up too high before I drank this beer. The appearance was well beyond amazing; I’m giving that feature a 30/25. Everything else was disappointing. Maybe next time.

Up Next: Either a nice stout or I revisit the American light beers.

Beer Review #66: Miller Fortune


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It’s Mother’s Day weekend so I’d like to encourage all of my readers to think about their moms. I never had a mom, myself. I find the entire idea disgusting. What kind of 50-year-old woman likes giving baths to children? It seems like an excuse to rub kids and I am not cool with that.

I have a dad though and we do shower together, but that’s just because we believe that our real mother is Mother Earth and it’s important to conserve water. That, and I find him sexually attractive.

Before I get to this review, I beg someone to tell me why Miller is making this beer. What is the gimmick? It left me more confused than satisfied. Also, remember to follow us on Twitter and Facebook for updates. I’ll do the mailbag next week so submit any questions you have to one of our many e-mail addresses.

Miller Fortune

Miller Fortune

Appearance: Clean and clear. Fresh honey. Grain ready for harvest. The carbonation is strong and steady. A milky head pools in the middle of the glass. It feels almost romantic.

Smell: The first time you open a box of Corn Flakes, like artificial sweetener. There may be something else going in there, but it is very hard to get past the unnatural sweetness of this beer.

Taste: The insipid taste of a glass of water that you accidentally let sit in the sun for a few hours. A weak, watery body that leaves countless bubbles of carbon-dioxide all over the tongue. Some rice and a lot of corn syrup. It’s hard to get much else besides a lingering taste of alcohol. This beer is far too sweet.

Overall: I can’t think of any situation in which someone could enjoy this beer. There seems to be some gimmick behind it, but I can’t figure out what they were going for. Beer shouldn’t rely on a gimmick anyway. 46/100.

Up Next: Either a stout of some kind or Chimay Blue.

Beer Review #65: Great Lakes Chillwave Double IPA


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In trying to branch out and stop wasting my time writing beer reviews that are only read by my mom, I’ve started working on some pitches for TV shows. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Manhunt: A real life version of “The Most Dangerous Game“, but with rubber bullets.

Ghost Prostitute: Gloria Horowitz runs a brothel in Tel Aviv. On one fateful night, she’s out of girls and one of her biggest clients is in town. She decided that she’ll take one for the team and do one last job herself.

Mid-coitus, her partner, who weighs 347 pounds, has a heart attack and dies; collapsing on top of her and cutting off her air supply. Because she’s a strict hasidic Jew, she can only have sex through a hole in a sheet. She dies in this sheet, and per ghost rules, roams the world wearing the last thing she was wearing. High jinks ensue as she tries desperately to make it in a world full of smarmy, 21st century ghosts as a stereotypical ghost in a sheet.

The Shot of a Lifetime: This is a reality show where six people in dire straights compete to win a million dollars. The catch? They have to play Russian Roulette on live television. We do everything in our power to find the people with the saddest stories so that America feels a deep connection to the eventual victim, who wins nothing. Only people that pull the trigger and win get cash.

LadyCop: Mark Ladycop is a seasonal worker at Honey Baked Ham, but his real dream is to be a beat cop in the NYPD. One day, while operating the slicer, he slips and receives a deep cut. Because he has a rare blood type, there is only one possible blood donor in the surrounding area: a woman that works as chief technician at the nuclear power plant. Transfused with her radioactive blood, once a month Mark LadyCop undergoes a transformation; growing a sweet pair of tits and legs that go on forever.

As a woman, Mark is able to finally join the police force due to quotas for minority hiring. He catches the attention of an other female officer and uses what he learns as a woman to woo her as a man. Unfortunately, Mark’s time as a woman also syncs up with his period and he is forced to spend most of his transformation with terrible cramps. Most of the show is about him learning how tampons work. Can a ham man makes it as lady justice? Find out this Fall on Fox!

A new month is soon upon us. If you want a question answered in the monthly reader e-mail segment just shoot a message to, or literally anything that ends with “”. Also there’s Facebook and Twitter for fun updates and lazy comedy bits. Here’s a beer review.

Great Lakes Chillwave

Great Lakes Chillwave

Appearance: Deep, clear amber; I you found a mosquito trapped in this you could re-build Jurassic park. The head is a good half-inch of thick, off-white craters. Carbonation is beyond energetic at first, but then slows to something reasonable. As I drink, the lacing is doing a gorgeous dance down the side of my glass.

Smell: Huge amounts of fruit. Apricot, plum, nectarine, mango, grapefruit, peach. Fresh hops and wild flowers. It’s like walking through a farmer’s market.

Taste: All of those great smells come through spectacularly. The body is on the weak side of medium and the carbonation keeps things fresh. All that sweet fruit is well tempered by a striking aftertaste of hops and a dewy lawn that’s being blasted by the noon sun. The aftertaste will stick with you for a while.

Overall: Holy hell this was a treat. 94/100. I tend to talk down my higher reviews, but this was beyond criticism. Find it, buy it. It was an honor to be in the same room as this beer, let alone trickling it into my stomach. My liver may finally forgive me.

Up Next: Miller Fortune

The Queer Identity You’ve Never Heard About — TransGod



Greg Brown is a 21 year old student living with his two roommates and his cat. He bikes to work, loves pizza and plays first person shooter games. If you met him, you’d probably think he’s just a regular guy, like you and me, but he’s not a guy. He’s a God. Most people, including myself before I met Greg, have never even heard of transGodness. Being one of the least known queer identities, it’s very difficult for transGods to come out, and it’s even more difficult for them to be taken seriously when they do. “There isn’t even an option for it, on anything. People just automatically assume you’re human. Things are really mortalcentric these days.” Greg says that his parents laughed at him when he told them about his identity, and that other people have merely shrugged it off, as if what he was saying was a nuisance. “What people don’t understand is that by not following my every command, they’re disrespecting the fiber of my very being,” says Greg. “I’ve known I was a God since I was a young kid and people just don’t understand that.”

Gods and Allies, a quickly growing social justice group, may be the only supporters of the movement so far. “I think my brother should be respected like everyone else,” says Allie Brown, one of the Allies in Gods and Allies. “Most people say he’s being ridiculous, that he’s schizophrenic, or even blasphemous when he tells people about his identity. But there’s nothing unnatural about being a God”. Allie says that she has also been made fun of and ostracized for taking her brother’s side on the issue. She has even received death threats via twitter.

Death threats unfortunately aren’t a new thing in the transGod movement. TransGod people have been persecuted for thousands of years. Jesus Christ, one of the first people to come out as transGod, was brutally killed for his identity. Even today, many religions hold the belief that claiming to be a God is sacrilegious, worthy of eternal punishment. The DSM-IV-TR classifies transGod people as having grandiose delusions, which is insulting the movement, and no doubt hinders it. Scientists, one of the largest transGod hate groups, even go so far as to say that people can’t be immortal.

Greg Brown hopes that many people will donate to the cause, saying that the money will be used to grant rights to transGod people, but he didn’t say how. If you would like to donate to Gods and Allies, just click here, and help the world become a better place.

Beer Review #64: Revolution Brewing Juke-Box Hero Black IPA


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I’ve been trying to get into stand-up comedy, but because I’m Black everyone expects me to tell jokes about the differences between races (I prefer half-marathons) and what it’s like to grow up in the ghetto (I’ve never been to Poland). My jokes are about catamarans, Blues Traveler, and being a great perimeter player in the NBA.

I really don’t have a lot in common with the Black community other than the fact that I’m a delinquent father, but that has little to do with me being Black and everything to do with my child being a disappointment. I’ve seen “Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2” enough times to know what this kid should be capable of. Now I know why they call it “Down’s Syndrome”; because it’s definitely given me the blues.

Cheer me up on Facebook and Twitter. Here’s the beer review.

Juke-Box Hero Black IPA

Juke-Box Hero Black IPA

Appearance: Effervescent. When the bottle opened it let out a great hiss and as I poured I could feel bubbles coming off of the stream. It foams up quite quickly, the head being colored like a spring breaker after half an hour on the beach and under the sun. He head is thin, but bulky and it dissipates into a mire of small bubbles.

It’s as black as one would hope a black IPA would be, but when held to the light it takes on the red of a freshly made brick or an old barn; it’s carmine.

Smell: Pine needles on a campfire. The first cut into an orange. Sweet malt.

Taste: On the thin side of a medium body and very crisp and bitter. It’s got all of the hops of an IPA, but there is a subtle sweetness from the dark roasted malt. There’s something that reminds me of burnt coffee in the aftertaste, but I can live with that. I was hoping for some of that orange aroma to come through.

Overall: Once again Revolution pleases me with their fantastic graphic design; the label looks great.

This could stand to be a bit sweeter, but, other than that this is a wholly enjoyable experience. Revolution is one of my favorite breweries and once again they’ve left me satisfied. As far as Black IPAs go, this was one of the best out there, but the Anti-Hero IPA, which they also produce, is still my go to from Revolution’s selection. Try this, let me know what you think. 81/100

Up Next: Great Lakes Chillwave

Beer Review #63: Avery Brewing White Rascal Belgian White


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Remember, you can always contact us by sending an e-mail to, like the Facebook Page, or follow the Twitter account. Here’s last months mail and the White Rascal review. (That e-mail address is only for suggestions for making the site better, requests for letters of recommendation, and tips on improving your life. If you want to suggest a beer for review just put it in any mailbox. I’ll find it.)

I’m going into high school next year and I’m afraid of showering after gym class. Any tips? – Gregg from Portland

Take a dump in the showers before every gym class. They won’t make you shower if there’s a log having a steam in there. Is it weird that at my high school we took baths?

UR STUPID – Anonymous

Yeah? Yeah…

I love beer, but I’m trying to cut out some calories. Any tips? – Jessica from LA

I guess you could drink light beer. They usually have around 100 calories so you can drink 20 of those in a day and be fine. Or just switch to whiskey and diet coke.

If you could have sex with any literary character who would it be and why? – Carlos for Texas

The Joy Luck Club. Mothers or daughters, I don’t really care; I just want to learn how to play mahjong and eat dumplings afterwards.

New mail is posted in the first review of a new month. If you want your question answered please include a name and location. feel free to lie. I do it all the time and look at me! Here’s the Avery Brewing White Rascal review.

Avery Brewing White Rascal

Avery Brewing White Rascal

Appearance: I don’t try enough Belgian Whites. This beer is an apparition of some kind, with it’s ghostly haze and unsettling pale straw color with a fair amount of carbonation. The head is just ever so off-white and only exists as a thin halo along the edges of the glass.

Smell: Citrus and spice. A kick of toasted wheat near the end. Fun, playful, and provocative.

Taste: Noticeably dry and medium-bodied. Lemon, freshly ground peppercorns, A good deal of wheat. The flavors are a bit more muted than I’d care for though. The taste is there, but you have to hunt for it a lot more than my lazy bones would care to do. The aroma is bright and strong, but it just doesn’t carry over.

Overall: This was good, but nothing about it was particularly special. I could definitely go to it for a session, or if I wanted to cool off under the sun, but it’s not that special beer that you turn to when you need to relax. 69/100. I just couldn’t give it the 70 and I’m told that 69 is a funny number.

Up Next: Revolution Brewing Juke-Box Hero Black IPA


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