Beer Review #81: Rolling Rock


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July Reader Mail

Do you think Sanders still has a shot at the Democratic nomination? – Lyle, Huber Heights

I seriously need to answer these e-mails in a more timely fashion.

How old is too old to be getting into fist fights? – Anonymous

I think this all really depends on context. If you’re on the beach building a sandcastle for your best gal and some street tough kicks it over and takes your girl then you’re morally obligated to spend months working out so that you can challenge him to a fight and win back your woman because for some reason in these scenarios women are property.

Stop getting in fights. It’s dumb. Have a couple drinks and talk it out. Then poison the other guy.

How do you feel about Hamilton? – John, for Cincinnati.

Anyone that doesn’t like it is a racist or descendant of Aaron Burr.

Ur gay – [expletive deleted], from [expletive deleted]

no u.

I’m starting college this fall and I’m really nervous about it. Any tips? – Harrison, from Dayton

If you’re living in dorms make sure to befriend the RA. They’ll be less likely to fuck with you. Also try to identify all the cool people on your floor and try to hang out with them. Join a couple clubs and hang out with those people too. Just be as social as you can because you’re gonna have less time for it in later years.

Don’t take too many classes and don’t take any of your classes too seriously. Remember that the world isn’t over if you fail a test. Go to a professor’s office hours twice and they will remember you for some time after the class is over. Every week, try to ask at least two questions in your various classes.

Watch what you eat and don’t party too hard too early. Learn the rules to beer pong. Ease into it. Play safe. Have fun.

As always, check out the Facebook and Twitter pages and share them with your friends of I swear to god I will pull this car over.



Appearance: This is the most carbonated beer I’ve ever seen. Giant bubbles for a seemingly never ending stream of carbon dioxide pushing up towards the surface. A enormous, pure-white head is born from this and it keeps for much longer than you’d expect for this sort of beer. It has that unfortunate urine-of-a-dehydrated-person yellow that is the standard for an American pale lager, but if that’s the ideal I suppose it’s fine.

Smell: Moldy breakfast cereal. This is why we don’t buy beer in clear or green bottles. The aroma is totally one note and it’s a pretty sour one at that.

Taste: Unpleasant. The body is weak and watery; something that does a great disservice to those gorgeous bubbles. A little thicker and this could be a perfectly crisp beer, a standard by which others could measure themselves.

It tastes like the smell of a book you accidentally spilled water on and now you’ve taken to airing it out with a hair dryer. Fortunately there’s no aftertaste and the body is thin enough to keep it from lingering on the tongue. This is one of the most boring tasting beers I’ve ever had. It has flavor, but that flavor is solely that of weak malt covered up by decay.

Overall: I’m still mesmerized by the bubbles. They may get a bit weaker as time goes on, but even then it seems more active than half of the other beers out there. If this was a beauty contest, this beer would win the pale lager category. Unfortunately, beer is for drinking and I never want to drink this again. 36/100

Up Next: Expect a bunch of terrible beers from the nearby gas station!

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again


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On the (Nearly Lethal) Thrills of a Parade in Cleveland

On Sunday, June 19th 2016 I probably couldn’t have been more happy. A curse had been lifted: A Cleveland sports franchise had won a championship for the first time in 52 years.

Here in my native Columbus the city was full of celebrants all discussing LeBron’s huge block, Kyrie’s clutch three, Kevin Love’s tight defense, and what the reaction must be like up in the city of Cleveland. I hadn’t been that happy in some time and I wanted to keep that feeling going for as long as I could. I agreed to drive up to the parade with my friend Trevor, a native of northeast Ohio, so that we could see the city at it’s best.

That would be my first of several horrible decisions.

IMG_20160624_114414760[1]We left Columbus early Wednesday, the day of the parade, and made it into Avon Lake, where his mother lived, around three in the morning. She was excited for us. We talked about the city’s estimate of 800,000 attendees being too low. We talked about the last minute efforts to bring in toilets. We talked about not being able to bring a cooler on such a hot day.

We talked about heading out early to get a good spot so Trevor and I hopped back into his car, drove to a nearby RTA train station, and at 4:39 a.m. we had a couple of day passes and huge smiles on our faces. The train was full of smiling faces and you could feel a special kind of electricity in the air. This was going to be a memorable day. How I wish it hadn’t been.

Downtown Cleveland was cool that morning. Trevor and I walked around and found a nice spot on the curb right at the final turn of the parade. There were only a few dozen people around and we were all glad knowing that we’d be right up front. So far the only weird thing we’d seen all day was a possibly drunk person sprinting down the sidewalk, smacking balloons, and face-planting when he caught his wrist in one. We had a backpack with four bottles of water and some jerky. All was good in the world.

Around seven a.m. a police cruiser came by and told us not to sit on the curb as the streets needed to be clear. This was the last real effort that the police would make to keep the parade route open.


Around eight the sidewalks were getting packed. Also, car traffic on the streets still hadn’t been blocked off. I noted how alarming this was as the parade was set to begin at eleven. Compounding problems, more and more people were still showing up and there was nowhere left to go but the streets so not there are cars and people filling up every inch of space.

The first people to stand in front of me and Trevor were an older woman and a young couple. They arrived around nine. We informed them that they couldn’t be in the streets, but they assured us they were just waiting for someone and would be on their way.

After half an hour it was clear they weren’t moving so we again raised some objections, noting that we’d been here since five specifically to get a good, unobstructed spot. Our pleas went unanswered and because we didn’t want to resort to violence we did the next best thing we could think of to make the uncomfortable.

I began loudly telling Trevor crude stories about my sexual exploits, killing my grandmother just to claim an inheritance, and any horrible thing I can think of. Trevor replied with horrible insults about these three rude people with the full intention that they’d overhear. When I asked “Who do you think would win in a fight between this old broad’s dry ovaries and polycystic ovarian syndrome,” we got rude looks, but no movement.

I started to notice that it was getting hot. The entire crowd began to seem frustrated.

Around ten the streets still didn’t seem free of cars and the parade was in an hour. bodies were beginning to fill in all the gaps between traffic. A woman pulled up to the traffic signal with the intent to make a turn, but it was impossible. Her solution was to just stay parked until she got her way.


This began a huge backlog of traffic. Other people were getting out of their cars to scream and threaten this entitled woman. I noted that there had been a strange lack of any police presence since being asked not to sit on the curb four hours ago.

After about fifteen minutes an officer arrived and forced her to go straight. They asked the crowd to clear the road. There was no way for the crowd to clear the road. Those people weren’t going anywhere and even if the wanted to there was nowhere to go at this point.

I was asking Trevor for a time check after what I thought was every half hour, but I’d learn that only ten minutes had passed. It was getting hotter. We couldn’t move. We were surrounded by bodies. Once eleven came around I was ready for this to be over. We got excited for the first float.

Someone announced they heard drumming and the crowed cheered. Unfortunately is was a single slow moving motorcycle cop cutting through the middle of the crowd that had completely filled the street. He begged for them to clear the road, but as he passed the wall of people just closed up behind him.

The next supposed sound of drumming, which came half an hour later, was the same thing. Things got mixed up around noon when a wall of police mounted on horses managed to actually push through a decent sized path for the parade.

Trevor noted that if we’d gotten here at noon we’d have had the best spots. Also, that it was very hot. I said that I was beginning to feel nausea and a tingling in my hands and feet. Finally, around 12:30 the parade seemed to be starting.

The first thing we saw was, I think, a truck full of unidentifiable people. about ten minutes later the Ohio State University marching band came through, only able to march two by two, and not playing any music. This string of ten minute gaps followed by something disappointing was a running theme.

Maybe around 1:30, Cavaliers coach Ty Lue came through. That was nice.

After a bunch more filler we saw owner Dan Gilbert.

More filler and half an hour later we saw JR Smith.

Filler, time, Kyrie Irving.

People around us were asking if I was okay. I was clearly suffering from heat exhaustion. Fortunately we timed our trip to a medical tent with the arrival of Lebron James so at least this trip was all for nothing.

Finally out of the crowd my breathing became normal, but I could barely walk. We asked a group of five or six police that were standing around doing nothing where the nearest medical professionals were. They pointed to a fire truck and ambulance with flashing lights. When we got there there wasn’t a single fireman or EMT present. We decided to just walk away from the parade to find somewhere to sit down and get water.

After a walk that was longer than normal because I had to stop frequently to keep myself from vomiting we found a bar that was shockingly not packed and I collapsed down on the floor and chugged ice water. Trevor had a couple drinks and we decided to leave this hell hole.We walked back to the train station we’d come from, Tower City. It was five in the afternoon. The day went from bad to worse to outright terrifying.


It was significantly worse than this when we were in line. Imagine this with another loop going in the opposite direction.

The main open area of Tower City contained a line of people that spiraled around a large, oval-shaped fountain in such a way that there seemed to be three or four lines of people all facing opposite directions. Eventually finding what we guessed was the end of a line, we jumped in and asked what the line was for. A kind gentleman told us that he didn’t know. We hoped this would work out.

The line was grueling. It would speed up, move at a snails pace, or just stop for ten minutes. Everyone’s phones were dead. I began to feel the symptoms of heat exhaustion again so I sat down and just scooted along. After a seeming eternity we made it down to the platform for the redline and saw more bodies packed into one place than should be allowed by any fire marshal. Then our wait began.

The first train didn’t come for half an hour. People were getting antsy. Someone tried to start a “Let’s Go Cavs” chant but was met with the entire crowd chanting back “Let’s go Home!” Then we noticed that everyone on the platform across from us was springing away from the stairs that led to the platform, some jumping onto the tracks and fleeing the station. Panic set in all around. I was ready to die in what I thought was the inevitable terrorist attack.

A klaxon sounded and some people began to cry. The was a muffled message delivered over an intercom. We were all trapped and had no idea what was coming for us.

Nothing ever happened. More people walked down to our platform seemingly oblivious to everything. Finally trains seemed to appear with a regular frequency. Trevor and I managed to actually find seats on one of the packed cars after watching four other trains leave without us.

On the train, a visibly shaken woman told us about seeing shattered glass everywhere upstairs. She told us a man tried to pull her under a table for her safety and that police asked if anyone had seen a shooter. She talked about putting her hands up when police came back through with raised guns to clear out the place. Trevor and I were happy we missed that. We’d later learn that the garbled announcement was “Active shooter. Please remain where you are.”


Eventually, after dealing with a train conductor that thought this was a time to joke around on the intercom, we made it back to his mom’s place and shared our horror story. I drank nearly an entire bottle of the coldest possible gin I could create. We had a nice late dinner and I passed out as a horrible storm swept through.

I realize now that with a few key changes we could have had a nice time. We thought bags would be checked, you know what with the recent shootings and attacks in crowded places, but there was never any police presence. We should have brought a could of full coolers and threw in some booze to boot.

Because the police didn’t keep the streets clear there was no point in arriving before noon. That would have saved a lot of grief.

We very easily could have driven in instead of taking a train. Being stuck in an air conditioned car with a radio would have been fine. Though I now recall when we first put on the radio as we were driving back to Trevor’s mother’s house the first thing we heard was someone mentioning all the bad things that happened that day, but insisting that the parade was a success.

I fully blame the police for not having any sort of plan for the parade. The roads should have been clear of traffic by eight. They should have come through every fifteen minutes to clear the road, not once at six in the morning then again at eleven.

The actual planned needed the route to be three times longer. There should have been water and more restrooms for the public. There should have been a quarter as many “floats” as most were just a trolley full of uninteresting people, or a kid dancing on a car, or Cleveland’s arena football team.

Stray observations:

About four times a fire crew carrying equipment walked by us asking if we knew where the fire hydrant was. I don’t think they ever found it.

Someone brought an old man in a wheelchair and just left him baking in the sun, unattended, for about six hours.

Lots of people openly smoking pot.

A man was asking around for a bottle opener. I always have one. He let me have a sip of his beer for letting him use it.

I now hate Cleveland.

The RNC is going to be a total shit show. There are already reports of the police not properly planning for it.

Polish people are nice.

Fuck parades. (But if the Tribe or Browns win it all I’ll probably be back.)

Soda Shaq Review #1: Strawberry Cream Soda


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May Reader Mail

This election sure has been something, hasn’t it? – Phil from Riverside

No. Who talks like this? I’m not some person you ran into in the break room and now you need to think of some small talk or else you start breathing and blinking manually. Don’t do this. You’re better than this Phil. I believe in you. Phil 2016!

Any idea who you’re voting for? – Melissa from Akron

Do you not keep up with the website? I just said Phil 2016.

I’m having trouble losing weight and Summer is almost here. I don’t want to do that thing where I wear a T-shirt in the pool. Any advice? – Jamie from Memphis

Okay, well this could go several ways. If you’re a dude, you should probably just own it. I don’t think anyone cares anymore. Otherwise, I advise bulimia.

If you’re a woman, my advice is exactly the same because I believe that we’re all equal.

How much do you make from this website? – Anonymous

About -$30 a year. The whole plan was to trick beer fests into giving me press passes, but that hasn’t panned out. Time to fill this thing with ads and to start selling cheaply made merchandise.

I recently started flossing a lot more often. At first there was a lot of blood, but after a few months everything usually comes out pretty clear. My mouth feels cleaner and it’s not that much extra work everyday. How do I make women feel safe around me? – Brad from Columbus

Stop talking about your teeth you god damn serial killer. If you’re really that desperate to lure a woman into your murder dungeon just put an ad on craigslist for free furniture of something. They’ll come and then you can take their teeth or whatever it is you do. Keep us updated.

If you have questions just find us on Twitter and Facebook. Like and follow and find true loves kiss! You can also e-mail, but make sure you mention something about increasing the size of my erection in the subject line. Otherwise it might go to spam.


The hills are alive with the sound of backboards being shattered.

Appearance: Boxed white zinfandel that’s been allowed to slowly congeal over time. Like if you cut off a troll’s head and collected its blood in a vial in order to complete a quest.

Smell: The medicine you hated most as a child. It makes me think about all the bad things that have ever happened.

Taste: Upon first sip I suddenly remembered where I was on 9/11. Not 2001, though. 2010 was way worse for me on a personal level. It’s when I learned about the other 9/11.

This just tastes like cotton candy and shortcake. On the mouth it feels like when you know the dentist is done with the procedure, but it taking their time before they let you rinse your mouth out.

Overall: Why does this product exist? I am, however, slowly becoming addicted. I think this is what it feels like to get into heroin. I get that now. 1/100.

Up Next: Heroin!

Beer Review #80: Elevator Brewing Co. Bleeding Buckeye Red Ale


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March Reader Mail

So it’s election season, what do you think about the candidates? – Jeff from Columbus

What can I say about these candidates that hasn’t already been said in the YouTube comments of a clip from a monster truck rally? I guess I’ll give it a go.

Bernie Sanders – I’m like 60% certain he was created when Seth Rogen stepped into a teleportation machine while holding all of George Orwell’s books and a copy of Spaceballs.

Hillary Clinton – She seems like the person on the police squad that’s one day away from retirement and is just tired of this bullshit. She just wants one day of peace.

Ted Cruz – I’m fairly certain Dracula wasn’t born in the United States. I want to see his birth certificate.

Marco Rubio – Remember that kid in your circle of friends that didn’t understand when you were making fun of him? Then, at some point, he sort of catches on and tries to find some sweet jokes on the internet, but everyone knows what he’s doing and he just gets more frustrated. That kid.

John Kasich – He’s the neighbors dog looking at you through the window while you’re having a good time with your own pets. Also, he has some weird shit going on with North Korea.

Donald Trump – A really charismatic jack-o-lantern that learned how to turn our nation’s underlying racism and xenophobia into votes. He’s what happens when you build a platform based on dog-whistle politics and the dog finally decides to show up.

Read anything good lately? – Gina from Grand Rapids

You ever read the back of a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Way more anti-Semitic than you’d expect.

This website sucks – Anonymous

I am well aware.

Who do you think will be the first big celebrity death of 2016? – Mike from NYC

I really gotta start answering these e-mails in a more timely fashion.

Which Chicken McNugget dipping sauce from McDonald’s is best? – Kent from Indianapolis

I don’t even know what all the sauce options are. Why don’t they have that displayed somewhere? You order nuggets and they ask what sauce you want as if this is just a thing everyone is prepared to answer without more information. What are they hiding back there that we don’t know about?

I usually go for a honey mustard, but I’ll mix in the spicy buffalo sauce on a good day. This was a good question and I’m gonna give it the full attention it deserves next time I’m at Mickey Ds. I’ll request one of each sauce and have a tasting. Keep on the lookout for that in the future.

Remmeber, if you want your questions answered you should get with us on Twitter and Facebook. Like and follow or I might die! You can also e-mail, but it’ll probably go to spam because I just assume any person doing that is trying to steal my identity or tomato sauce recipe.

Bleeding Buckeye Red Ale

Bleeding Buckeye Red Ale

Appearance: I hate starting reviews like this, but this is just beautiful. From the striking color reminiscent of polished mahogany, the cloudiness that just barely lets you see thousands of energized bubbles, all leading up to a remarkably creamy head that just explodes as you pour this thing.

It’s all so good, but I feel like the head deserves special recognition. It’s almost like whipped cream in consistency. It has a nutty color that compliments the rich color of the beer. This looks like something you’d see in a TV commercial. I hope this ends well because I’ve really hyped this up for myself.

Smell: Strong malt up front, followed by butterscotch, toasted bread, and some hops.

Taste: It’s very slick and light-bodied. You can pick up the bubbles, but not as much as I would have thought.

Lots of caramel notes and lots of sweetness from the toasted malt, but the hops cut through in a great way to keep things interesting. The bitterness and grassy flavor from the hops really helps to offset what could be overbearing sweetness.

It finishes with those bitter hops and really sticks to the tongue. It’s like it’s setting you up for the rush of sweetness from your next sip.

Overall: This was fun. I’m not usually big on red ale, but I’ll be buying this again. Pulling that sweet liquid through the creamy head was a delight. It wasn’t overly complex and it’s not gonna set any records, but it’s a gorgeous beer that would be great for a session under the sun with a few good friends. 89/100.

Up Next: No clue!

2015 Year End Lists


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2015 was a great year for saying really shitty things about immigrants and casual racism. Let’s see what else it had to offer by ranking some of the best things of the year!

Best Egg Preparations

5- Soft Boiled
4- Deviled
3- Poached
2- Basted
1- Over Easy

TV Shows

5- Hannibal
4- Daredevil
3- Mr. Robot
2- Fargo
1- Better Call Saul

Action Films

5- Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation
4- Sicario
3- Kingsman: The Secret Service
2- Star Wars: The Force Awakens
1- Mad Max: Fury Road

Fast Food Burgers

5- Burger King
4- White Castle
3- Steak N’ Shake
2- Wendy’s
1- Rally’s


5- Eskimo
4- Latino
3- Black
2- White
1- Eastern Asian

Drinking Scenarios

5- Tailgating
4- Chilling and Grilling
3- Hot Toddies after coming in from shoveling snow
2- Staying out at a bar until the sun comes up
1- At a baseball game with close friends on a nice day

Cuts of Pork

5- Ham
2- Tenderloin
1- Ribs


Beer Review #79: Hamm’s


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December Reader Mail

Dude, are you okay? – Glenn, from Spokane


Who would win in a fight between a kraken and every main villain from the Die Hard film series? – Anonymous

Well there’s several issues with this question that make it impossible to answer.

First, where is this fight taking place? On dry land the kraken is toast, but in the depths of the sea I imagine Hans Gruber would be crushed by the pressure of the ocean.

Second, I’ve never seen the fifth Die Hard movie so for all I know that guy specialized in hunting down creatures from the deep sea or maybe he’s part narwhal. I’ve also never met a kraken, but I think I get the gist of their capabilities.

All things considered, I’m giving this one to the kraken, assuming that he isn’t forced to wear a racist sandwich board in the middle of Harlem.

What do you think the ninja turtles’ stance on ethics in video games journalism would be? – Troy from Dublin

Raphael: Doesn’t care, but will jump on any opportunity to send anonymous death threats to women on Twitter.

Donatello: Too fucking smart to care.

Leonardo: Very much against the actions of the movement.

Michelangelo: Busy actually enjoying video games.

What’s your dream job? What do you want to accomplish? – Mom from [redacted]

That’s two questions. You’re only allowed to ask one question.

I’ll answer the second one: To one day beat Jackie Robinson’s record of being the first Black man to play Major League Baseball.


Send in your own questions over Twitter, Facebook, or e-mail. Or don’t. I really don’t care. Here’s the review.

I'm not sure where this picture was taken!

I’m not sure where this picture was taken!

Appearance: Super clear with almost zero carbonation. The head puffs up nicely and lasts longer than you’d think before it settles into a reasonably thick white ring. A very pale color like that of straw after a few days of drying.

Smell: Well it’s great that I brought up straw earlier ’cause this smells like hay that wasn’t given enough time to dry before it was loaded up into the loft; musty, grainy, stale.

Taste: I’m willing to concede that this beer has a pleasant mouthfeel, but that’s it. It’s got a nice medium-body and feels a little slippery. The actual taste is muted, but one can get a bit of grain with a malty finish. It still has a bit of that smell in it which isn’t very pleasant.

Overall: 49 out of 100 and that feels too generous. I’d take PBR or High Life instead.

Up Next: There’s a bunch already written, but I’m lazy so who knows?

Beer Review #78: Icehouse


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August Reader Mail

What do you think about women nursing in public? – Donna from Butte

100% support. Not only do we get a display of public nudity, but we get to see all of the reactions of people trying not to stare. I just wish those babies would learn to share.

I’m looking to get into juggling or yo-yo tricks soon, but I’m worried that people will think I’m weird if I spend a lot of time doing those things. Do I just need more self-esteem or is this a bad idea? – Clark from Huntsville

Go to a bar and make friends the normal way.

Why do these kids wear their pants so low? – Mary

I dunno. Rap music? Lack of belts? Barack Obama secretly orchestrated it as a means of further dividing the races in part of his plans to ruin America? Those are all equally plausible.

What can I do to spruce up my online dating profile? Melissa from Beaver Creek

Be attractive.

Why aren’t you posting anything? – Nate from Washington D.C.

I’ve been working on a lot of new TV show pitches. Here are some of my ideas. Feedback is appreciated:

Fingering Kids: Profiles of Candy Thieves – A show about catching kids that steal candy at the check out lines of grocery stores. It’s like To Catch a Predator, but not at all.

Which Way Do They Wipe – A dating show that tries to pair people together by which way they wipe.

Celebrity Face Swap – We use Face/Off technology to let Steve Buscemi and Channing Tatum spend a week in one another’s shoes. Each episode ends with a boat chase and fight to the death.

Mike Tyson Reads Young Adult Novels – Exactly what it sounds like. Accompanied by still pictures of scenes from the books drawn by severely autistic teens.

Face Swap – A way more boring version of Celebrity Face Swap.

Well that mail was just as awful as usual. Please, for the love of whichever god you foolishly throw money at, send me some better e-mail. The address is SpamIgnore@Boozeandwhatever.cum. There’s also fun stuff on the Facebook page (Like Who Would Win Tuesdays (We’re legally prohibited from using Wednesday))and Twitter feed (parentheses) so get down on it. Here’s the review…

IcehouseAppearance: Perfectly clear, obscured only by a stream of thick bubbles that seem to have an inexhaustible source. A lightly-hued goldenrod beer with a surprisingly long-lasting, medium head. It’s not pretty, but it looks pretty good for what it is.

Smell: One-note; a weak, wet grain. If you’ve ever been on a farm waiting for hay to dry before you can bale it, this is the smell the morning after an unexpected light rain.

Taste: Not good, but unoffensive. It has a light to medium body, tastes only of a lightly kilned malt, and other than a slightly unpleasant aftertaste of a better beer that’s been left to sit out for too long, there’s not much else going on here.

Overall: I expected this to be much worse than it was. That said, this was pretty bad and I’m upset that I have to finish this. 41/100. This was strange beer.

Up Next: Something Gimmicky!

Beer Review #77: Southern Tier Brewing Company Crème Brûlée


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May Reader Mail

What did you think about Mayweather/Pacquiao? – John from Atlanta

I was pretty drunk for most of it, but I distinctly remember watching it from my local dive and some homeless man shitting himself on a bar stool after drinking about 10 cups of the complimentary coffee they put out. I enjoyed that more than the fight.

Who’s your dream girl? – Liz

Way to objectify half of the world’s population. How dare you assume that I’m into women? It’s 2015 and this is a very progressive website.

Also, it’s Emma Roberts or Lizzy Caplan. I want to own them as property.

Summer’s coming up soon. Any tips to make this one to remember? – Kathleen from Columbus, OH

Don’t leave your drink unattended.

This website used to be funny. – Mike from Peoria

No it didn’t. I don’t know what would lead you to believe that. This is a legitimate place for serious business.

You seem like the kind of person that’s had some issues with alcohol. It’s getting pretty bad for me and I was wondering if you had any tips on battling addiction or at least managing it. – Anonymous

I’ve yet to encounter a problem that couldn’t be solved by drinking more.

Well that was that. Send in your own e-mail questions and please try to keep the racial slurs down to a minimum. Not because we’re offended, but just putting a question mark after the N-word is a very confusing question. Like, do you want to know if I’m Black or are you offering one for trade? Use your words.

Don’t forget to hit us up on Facebook and Twitter too. You can see the low-quality material that gets posted there on the sidebar here, but why risk missing anything? On to the show!

Southern Tier Creme Brulee

Southern Tier Creme Brulee

Appearance: Impregnable darkness. A wispy thin head that reminds me of a marshmallow after just 5 seconds over a campfire. It laces quite nicely too. Very little carbonation.

Smell: You get pretty much what you’d expect with something named after a French dessert. An almost cloying saccharine aroma hits you as soon as the bottle opens. There’s also a fair bit of vanilla, dark chocolate, and caramel.

Taste: A very thin body, but it still has a pleasing mouthfeel that manages to encourage me to go back for more. The strong sweet flavors are more tempered than I had expected, but it still feels like a bit much. Toasted nuts, toffee, and maybe something reminiscent of sweetened condensed milk.

The taste hits you pretty quickly and doesn’t leave you with much. There’s just a slight lingering sweetness.

Overall: This was not a bad beer and it delivered on it’s promise so I have to review it with that in mind. It wouldn’t be fair to review this like a normal stout because that’s not what they were going for. That being said, I had some issues with the strong sugar smell and the flavor profile. 76/100

Up Next: Something Bad!

Beer Review #76: Flying Dog Pale Ale


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What should I drink while I clean around the house? – Meg from Circleville

Cleaning products.

My dog has been having a lot of nightmares. This has been tearing my family apart. The kids are crying, my wife is packing a bag, and I’m just looking at our bank statements and I can’t get these numbers to work. Please help. – Josh from Agoura Hills

I got this e-mail like seven months ago. Let’s just assume this guy is dead and move on.

Better song: Do A Little Dance -or- Play That Funky Music? – George from Chicago

That’s a good question. In fact, it may be the first good question ever asked. I have to go with Play That Funky Music because everyone goes crazy during that chorus.

Penis pumps? – Laura from Canal Winchester


Well that was as awful as it usually is. Share the Facebook and Twitter pages with your friends. Let’s boost this signal. Send e-mail questions too or next month is just answers to beer recommendations. I hate beer. Here’s a beer review.

Flying Dog Pale Ale

Flying Dog Pale Ale

Appearance: I’m seriously considering forcing my girlfriend to go through the teleporter from “The Fly” while holding a glass of this so that I can have daily relations with this. In hindsight though, my girlfriend won’t let me near her so that may not be the best description.

It’s got the golden hue of unfiltered honey, very low carbonation, a dreamy haziness, and a sticky off-white head that leaves it’s mark once you’ve finished off your glass.

Smell: It’s bright and fresh. Big hops up front, unharvested grain, and tropical fruit

Taste: Not as exciting as I’d hoped. It’s got a watery feel and not much of any taste aside from hops, but even that taste isn’t very pronounced. There’s really no finesse here. It’s not bad, but I expected a lot more punch from a pale ale.

Overall: This one fooled me and now I’m mad. 68/100. I’ll concede that the graphic design on the bottle is awesome and this was fun to look at, but taste is where my bread is buttered.

Don’t forget to “like” and “share” with your friends. This review, not this beer.

Up Next: Dessert

Beer Review #75: Michelob Ultra


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Ghost Log #1: New Realities (Part One)

The night was black. Central Ohio Undead and Ghost Hunting (COUGH) was having its first monthly meeting of the new year when we heard our phone sound for the first time since we’d been forcing ourselves to come to these meetings three years ago.

The three of us sat silent for the first couple rings when Nick decided that he was the only one of us not completely shaken by nerves. Nick wasn’t the bravest, or the most talkative, but he loved doing this more than the rest of us and had been waiting for this day more than anything else.

I could only hear one side of the call, but from the way Nick’s face dropped I knew this was big. He hung up the receiver, turned to us, and asked me to cancel the pizza delivery for that night; we were going out.

The client was Shelly Globke, an 81-year-old widower living in German Village. He invited us into his home and sat us down in a room lined with heavily worn books and dull light provided by a single antique lamp on the verge of death. There were four fresh glasses of tea waiting for us on the coffee table.

Suddenly remembering my position as leader of the group, I asked Shelly why he called.

“Well,” he rasped, “you should first know that my dear Evelyn passed just last week. She was all I ever cared about. She… I think she’s back.”

Now I understood why Nick had been so solemn on the phone. This was just a sad, lonely man that lost his only companion. He’d entertain any fantasy to have her back. We’d humor him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss Mr. Globke. Would you mind if we have a look around before you tell us how the spirit manifests itself? It’s best we do this before you go into detail so that we aren’t influenced.”

“Of course. Do whatever you need. I’ll be waiting here.”

As we left the room to grab our gear Mr. Globke began to thumb through an old photo album and tear up. We weren’t built for this.

“We can’t actually do this,” yelled Dan. “I sympathize with the man, but I can tell what you two are up to and I won’t support an old man’s delusions. He needs to move on. No one wants to find a ghost more than me, but this is ridiculous.”

“Let’s just give it a chance. This is the first time we’ve ever been called out. Besides, I’m in charge here so it’s my call. Let’s look around.”

We swept though the house and took every reading that we could. Whenever I passed the doorway leading to Shelly’s study I gave him a nod and a smile, but I knew this was helpless.

Dan screamed.

I could hear Nick running upstairs.

Shelly started crying.

I froze.

Part two will drop whenever. Check out the Facebook and Twitter pages for updates. Send e-mail questions too. They are all I have these days… On to the review!

Michelob Ultra

Michelob Ultra

Appearance: Otherworldly pale and super fizzy. A flash of a white head is gone before you can get your god damn camera out of your god damn drawer. Clear. Like distractingly clear.

Smell: A flooded basement one week after cleanup.

Taste: Water and a tiny bit of corn syrup.

Overall: Fuck this beer. 2/100

Up Next: Something nice.


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