Beer Blog
Beer Commissioner Speaks on Inventions
Today is Game 1 of the World Series, where my beloved WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES take on the hated Yankees, whom I really don't hate, but the Yankees are in the way of me being able to type WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES for another year, so for those purposes I hate them.
I just got back from the grocery store, where I was provisioning myself for tonight's game. Beer, pretzels, potato chips, bacon and frozen mini-tacos were purchased for the event. My trip to the check-out line was delayed by one of the last 12 people on earth that actually use a checkbook. Since the Beer Commissioner is a public service oriented type of guy, I dedicate this blog to those 12 people who actually still use a checkbook.
I decided to write this blog, while standing in line at the grocery store, and watched the grocery clerk scan approximately 200 items. At the conclusion of the scanning of the items, the grocery clerk then informed the lady in front of me the price of her groceries. Telling this woman she had to pay for her groceries, apparently was a complete surprise, because she acted like she had no idea she actually had to pay for the groceries, because it was not until that exact time, that the lady began spelunking through her Grand Canyon sized purse for her checkbook. The trip through the purse was not yet over. The lady then sat the purse down in the buggy, and dove in, head first apparently to find a pen. I say apparently, because she waved it around like an olympic torch when she emerged from the confines of her purse. She then began to write the check. Then, a third trip was made into the purse, this time, for a calculator, so she could subtract from her checkbook ledger the price of the groceries.
After the check was written, the clerk, to the disappointment of us all, requested to see the woman's driver's license, which was in a completely different wallet, which was buried in the catycomb portion of the purse. After all the check writing, math figuring and ID showing, we had to order up a key-turn. I never realized why on earth the grocery store needs the manager to turn a key everytime someone writes a check, but I figured it out today. It is much nicer and customer friendly to say, key turn on register 4, than to say, hey manager, come look at this dumbass that still writes a check.
Now, before I help you people, I need to identify who the people are that need helping. There are three ways to tell if you are the idiot that still uses a checkbook, and you need to be told of this great new invention.
First, are you in a grocery store and writing a check, if so, look at the person behind you, if you see me, you are a moron that needs my help.
Second, when the television stations switched from analog to digital service, and you could no longer watch television, you need my help.
Third, do you spend 4 hours one weekend a month, putting stamps on envelopes containing your monthly bills? If so, you are wasting your life away, and you need my help.
If you fit the above, this advice is for you. There is this great invention called a DEBIT CARD. They look like a credit card, but they act like a check. All you have to do is scan the card, and the money magically comes out of your checking account. Poof! Just like that! No more digging through big purses looking for pens, checkbooks and IDs. No sir! No more embarrassing key turns at the cash register! No more writer's cramp! No more silly math! All you have to do is call your bank and say, I want a debit card, and within 7 days one will be delivered RIGHT TO YOUR DOOR! Imagine not having to spend hours paying bills. You'll get out of the grocery store in 10 fewer minutes!
So, assuming your bank hasn't been taken over by the government, or has failed, you too can get a DEBIT CARD. For the love of GOD, act now!
I just got back from the grocery store, where I was provisioning myself for tonight's game. Beer, pretzels, potato chips, bacon and frozen mini-tacos were purchased for the event. My trip to the check-out line was delayed by one of the last 12 people on earth that actually use a checkbook. Since the Beer Commissioner is a public service oriented type of guy, I dedicate this blog to those 12 people who actually still use a checkbook.
I decided to write this blog, while standing in line at the grocery store, and watched the grocery clerk scan approximately 200 items. At the conclusion of the scanning of the items, the grocery clerk then informed the lady in front of me the price of her groceries. Telling this woman she had to pay for her groceries, apparently was a complete surprise, because she acted like she had no idea she actually had to pay for the groceries, because it was not until that exact time, that the lady began spelunking through her Grand Canyon sized purse for her checkbook. The trip through the purse was not yet over. The lady then sat the purse down in the buggy, and dove in, head first apparently to find a pen. I say apparently, because she waved it around like an olympic torch when she emerged from the confines of her purse. She then began to write the check. Then, a third trip was made into the purse, this time, for a calculator, so she could subtract from her checkbook ledger the price of the groceries.
After the check was written, the clerk, to the disappointment of us all, requested to see the woman's driver's license, which was in a completely different wallet, which was buried in the catycomb portion of the purse. After all the check writing, math figuring and ID showing, we had to order up a key-turn. I never realized why on earth the grocery store needs the manager to turn a key everytime someone writes a check, but I figured it out today. It is much nicer and customer friendly to say, key turn on register 4, than to say, hey manager, come look at this dumbass that still writes a check.
Now, before I help you people, I need to identify who the people are that need helping. There are three ways to tell if you are the idiot that still uses a checkbook, and you need to be told of this great new invention.
First, are you in a grocery store and writing a check, if so, look at the person behind you, if you see me, you are a moron that needs my help.
Second, when the television stations switched from analog to digital service, and you could no longer watch television, you need my help.
Third, do you spend 4 hours one weekend a month, putting stamps on envelopes containing your monthly bills? If so, you are wasting your life away, and you need my help.
If you fit the above, this advice is for you. There is this great invention called a DEBIT CARD. They look like a credit card, but they act like a check. All you have to do is scan the card, and the money magically comes out of your checking account. Poof! Just like that! No more digging through big purses looking for pens, checkbooks and IDs. No sir! No more embarrassing key turns at the cash register! No more writer's cramp! No more silly math! All you have to do is call your bank and say, I want a debit card, and within 7 days one will be delivered RIGHT TO YOUR DOOR! Imagine not having to spend hours paying bills. You'll get out of the grocery store in 10 fewer minutes!
So, assuming your bank hasn't been taken over by the government, or has failed, you too can get a DEBIT CARD. For the love of GOD, act now!
Beer Commissioner Speaks on the Fall Classic
It is time. It is time for dedication and proclamation. It is time for bestowing. It is time to christen the Cathedral of Baseball, Yankee Stadium. Cathedrals should be christened by popes. The Phillies used to have a pope, Paul Owens, but he is with us no more. He led the Wheeze Kids to the Fall Classic in 1983. How many Hall of Famers played in that Series? Tony Perez, Joe Morgan, Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, Eddie Murray and some rookie named Ripken.
The 2009 version of the Fall Classic has the makings of a great one. This is the first year of the new Yankee Stadium. It is fitting that baseball's greatest games, be played in baseball's holiest place. The Yankees are loaded with future Hall of Famers, and have more gold gloves than a costume party in the Castro.
The WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES have the most potent hitting line-up in all of baseball. Both teams are loaded with enough former Indians to make the Jacobs family wonder if they really know anything about baseball.
Hopefully somewhere, Whitey Ashburn, Tug McGraw, The Mick, Joe Dimaggio, the Babe, Casey Stengel all get together and watch the games. Maybe they are watching the games at the Pope's house and drinking the dearly departed Frazier Beer?
I'm hoping the Series goes 7 games. I hope the Captain gets the key hit. I hope the Flyin' Hawaiian guns down Robinson Kano at home to stop the tying run from scoring. I hope CC and Cliff Lee both throw complete games, and Game 1 ends 1-0. I hope in one of the games, the Phillies 4 of Ultey, Howard, Werth and Ibanez put up a bunch of crooked numbers. I hope that Lidge is perfect, and Mariano is at his best. I hope J-Roll doesn't bite on the curve ball down and in, and I hope A-Rod doesn't have rabbit ears. I hope neither team makes an error in the field, and that Cole Hammels finds his curve ball. I hope the Phillies win in 7 and parade down Broad Street.
I hope every baseball fan in heaven watches the games, and I hope that Harry Kalas and Whitey Ashburn call the games on Phillies Radio and Mel Allen and Phil Rizzuto call the Yankee games on heaven radio, but without the Money Store commercials.
"How about that?"
The 2009 version of the Fall Classic has the makings of a great one. This is the first year of the new Yankee Stadium. It is fitting that baseball's greatest games, be played in baseball's holiest place. The Yankees are loaded with future Hall of Famers, and have more gold gloves than a costume party in the Castro.
The WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES have the most potent hitting line-up in all of baseball. Both teams are loaded with enough former Indians to make the Jacobs family wonder if they really know anything about baseball.
Hopefully somewhere, Whitey Ashburn, Tug McGraw, The Mick, Joe Dimaggio, the Babe, Casey Stengel all get together and watch the games. Maybe they are watching the games at the Pope's house and drinking the dearly departed Frazier Beer?
I'm hoping the Series goes 7 games. I hope the Captain gets the key hit. I hope the Flyin' Hawaiian guns down Robinson Kano at home to stop the tying run from scoring. I hope CC and Cliff Lee both throw complete games, and Game 1 ends 1-0. I hope in one of the games, the Phillies 4 of Ultey, Howard, Werth and Ibanez put up a bunch of crooked numbers. I hope that Lidge is perfect, and Mariano is at his best. I hope J-Roll doesn't bite on the curve ball down and in, and I hope A-Rod doesn't have rabbit ears. I hope neither team makes an error in the field, and that Cole Hammels finds his curve ball. I hope the Phillies win in 7 and parade down Broad Street.
I hope every baseball fan in heaven watches the games, and I hope that Harry Kalas and Whitey Ashburn call the games on Phillies Radio and Mel Allen and Phil Rizzuto call the Yankee games on heaven radio, but without the Money Store commercials.
"How about that?"
Beer Commissioner Speaks on the Nobel Prize
Much has been made this past week about awarding President Obama the Nobel Peace Prize. People were quick to note the nomination deadline was a mere 11 days after his inaguration as president. The Nobel Committee pointed out the Nobel Prize for Peace was not awarded for anything President Obama had actually done, but they awarded him the Prize to encourage him to actually do what he said he is going to do.
After all the hubbub this created, the Nobel Committee went back and revoked all other awards, and re-awarded them based on the new standard, of not actually doing anything, but just saying you are going to do something.
The Office of the Beer Commissioner was given special, exclusive access to the new awards, and I am going to announce them here.
The Nobel Prize for Medicine is awarded to M.D. Anderson hospital in Houston, Texas. Yes, M.D. Anderson has just built a brand-new $8 billion dollar cancer wing at their facility. Truly M.D. Anderson is a wonderful hospital, and if I ever draw life's short straw and am diagnosed with cancer, that will be my first trip. That being said, M.D. Anderson wants to cure cancer. Their research doctors are among the best in the world, and they are diligently working to cure cancer, and the Beer Commissioner certainly hopes they do it. The Nobel Prize for medicine is awarded to M.D. Anderson hospital because they say they actually want to cure cancer. They haven't done it yet, but they want to. I'm sure this will get done shortly after that $8 billion dollar edition to their hospital is paid for, but, they are getting the award, because they intend to do it.
The Nobel Prize for economics goes to Robert Mugabe, the president of Nigeria. President Mugabe has quietly presided over one of the greatest redistribution of wealth exercises in history. He has taken farmland that has belonged to generations of farmers, and has given it to the poor and displaced of his country. The result is that the poor and displaced in the country have no idea how to farm, and they are now starving because the farmers have been driven from their land. The entire economy in Nigeria has collapsed, and the inflaction rate is something around 20 million percent (I am not making this up). The country actually issues 100,000,000,000 billion dollar notes. President Mugabe says he is going to fix the Nigerian ecomony. He has no intention of giving the lands back to the farmers, but he says he wants to do it. He is going to start by reducing the price of eggs from $3 billion to the more reasonable price of $1 billion per dozen. The Nobel Committee wants to help him with his efforts, and is awarding Robert Mugabe the Nobel Prize for economics.
The Nobel Prize for chemistry goes to InBev. Since buying American Brewing giant Anheiser Busch, InBev stated they wanted to keep the great American beer drinking tradition alive and well. InBev then gave us Bud Light Wheat. InBev, bless their hearts wanted to give us a good beer to help keep the American beer drinking tradition alive and well, but unfortunately they gave us Bud Light Wheat. We want to encourage InBev and all beer makers to give us great beers to drink. Imagine giving the peace prize to a guy who just announced he is sending 40,000 more troops to a country to escalate a war? Makes no sense. That is why InBev deserves the Nobel Prize for chemistry!
The Nobel Prize for literature has been given to....surprisingly, me! Yes, I haven't posted a blog in 3 months. Yes, my website gets approximately 10 hits a day. The Nobel Committee wants to encourage my efforts in writing more about strippers. Apparently there is a huge gap in that literature. It turns out the Nobel Committee is gravely concerned that Adult Book Stores actually do not carry books. Apparently, by giving the award to me, they are trying to encourage more beer and stripper related literature.
Let me say, I am surprised and deeply honored by the award. Hopefully, one day, I'll be able to live up to the lofty ideals for which it was established!
Deeply Humbled,
Beer Commissioner
After all the hubbub this created, the Nobel Committee went back and revoked all other awards, and re-awarded them based on the new standard, of not actually doing anything, but just saying you are going to do something.
The Office of the Beer Commissioner was given special, exclusive access to the new awards, and I am going to announce them here.
The Nobel Prize for Medicine is awarded to M.D. Anderson hospital in Houston, Texas. Yes, M.D. Anderson has just built a brand-new $8 billion dollar cancer wing at their facility. Truly M.D. Anderson is a wonderful hospital, and if I ever draw life's short straw and am diagnosed with cancer, that will be my first trip. That being said, M.D. Anderson wants to cure cancer. Their research doctors are among the best in the world, and they are diligently working to cure cancer, and the Beer Commissioner certainly hopes they do it. The Nobel Prize for medicine is awarded to M.D. Anderson hospital because they say they actually want to cure cancer. They haven't done it yet, but they want to. I'm sure this will get done shortly after that $8 billion dollar edition to their hospital is paid for, but, they are getting the award, because they intend to do it.
The Nobel Prize for economics goes to Robert Mugabe, the president of Nigeria. President Mugabe has quietly presided over one of the greatest redistribution of wealth exercises in history. He has taken farmland that has belonged to generations of farmers, and has given it to the poor and displaced of his country. The result is that the poor and displaced in the country have no idea how to farm, and they are now starving because the farmers have been driven from their land. The entire economy in Nigeria has collapsed, and the inflaction rate is something around 20 million percent (I am not making this up). The country actually issues 100,000,000,000 billion dollar notes. President Mugabe says he is going to fix the Nigerian ecomony. He has no intention of giving the lands back to the farmers, but he says he wants to do it. He is going to start by reducing the price of eggs from $3 billion to the more reasonable price of $1 billion per dozen. The Nobel Committee wants to help him with his efforts, and is awarding Robert Mugabe the Nobel Prize for economics.
The Nobel Prize for chemistry goes to InBev. Since buying American Brewing giant Anheiser Busch, InBev stated they wanted to keep the great American beer drinking tradition alive and well. InBev then gave us Bud Light Wheat. InBev, bless their hearts wanted to give us a good beer to help keep the American beer drinking tradition alive and well, but unfortunately they gave us Bud Light Wheat. We want to encourage InBev and all beer makers to give us great beers to drink. Imagine giving the peace prize to a guy who just announced he is sending 40,000 more troops to a country to escalate a war? Makes no sense. That is why InBev deserves the Nobel Prize for chemistry!
The Nobel Prize for literature has been given to....surprisingly, me! Yes, I haven't posted a blog in 3 months. Yes, my website gets approximately 10 hits a day. The Nobel Committee wants to encourage my efforts in writing more about strippers. Apparently there is a huge gap in that literature. It turns out the Nobel Committee is gravely concerned that Adult Book Stores actually do not carry books. Apparently, by giving the award to me, they are trying to encourage more beer and stripper related literature.
Let me say, I am surprised and deeply honored by the award. Hopefully, one day, I'll be able to live up to the lofty ideals for which it was established!
Deeply Humbled,
Beer Commissioner
Beer Commissioner Speaks on Having Beer with the President
This week I was thinking how wonderful it would be if one of my neighbors saw someone trying to shoulder jam their way into my house, and they would be so concerned they would call the police. I also thought, how wonderful it would be that the police immediately showed up.
What a utopian world? Your neighbor sees someone breaking into a house, they call the police and they immediately show up. That is the kind of stuff that only ever happens on the Andy Griffin Show.
However, we live in the 2000s, so let's screw this story up. Let's say the above happens. Now let's say the person who was doing the 'breaking in' was actually the resident, who is a highly regarded professor at the best university in the world outside of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and he was busting his shoulder against the door because the door was jammed. Let's assume then when the police officer shows up, the professor who was busting in the house calls the cop a racist. Then let's further assume, the President of the United States, on national television says the police officer acted stupidly. Then let's further assume that the New York Times sends whatever reporters they don't have in Alaska to this guy's house to ask him why he is a racist cop.
Oh, but we aren't done, let's further assume that when the 'racist' cop's black partner says he would have arrested the professor for his actions related to busting into this own house. And let's further assume the racist cop actually teaches other cops how not to be racist, and how not to profile people of color.
Then, let's assume the President goes on national television again, admits that he regrets committing a huge controversy, but refuses to apologize to the cop, but the president invites the professor and the cop over to his house for a beer.
Had the last part not have happened, the Beer Commissioner would not be involved. But since the President of the United States is having a beer with a Professor Gates, Sgt. Crowley at the White House, I just had to interject myself into the situation. It is a little known fact, but, my beer sources told me what happened at today's meeting. Of course, I had to share with you.
President Obama: "Gentlemen I invited both of you here today to have a beer, hopefully let bygones be bygones. I also invited Vice President Biden here. As we all know, we all say things we regret, and Joe here, well, he's about as good as it gets in saying things he later regrets."
Joe Biden: "Actually I just came because I love Schlitz Malt Liquor."
Professor Gates: "This is what it's like to be a black man in America."
Sgt. Crowley: "I wouldn't know."
Joe Biden: "Hell Barack doesn't know either, he was born in Kenya."
President Obama stares intently at Joe Biden.
Joe Biden: "Did I miss something? Are we having Colt 45 instead?"
Professor Gates: "I should have stayed in China."
President Obama: "Sgt. Crowley, like I was saying, we all say stupid things,and that's why I asked Joe to sit in on this meeting."
Sgt. Crowley: "Yes, Mr. President, sometimes you just can't help who you work with some days."
Professor Gates squirms in his seat.
President Obama: "Well, lucky for you, you can arrest people that piss you off, Joe was on the ballot, so I'm kinda stuck with him for the next 4 years."
Joe Biden: "Hey Barack, do you have a funnel?"
Professor Gates: "Was Oprah not available?"
Sgt. Crowley: "Wasn't your book in her book club?"
President Obama and Professor Gates together: "Yes."
Joe Biden: "Hey, I plagarized a book once."
Professor Gates: "I think its time we cut Joe off the beer."
Joe Biden: "Oh its ok, I'm taking the train home."
President Obama: "Gentlemen, I'm really sorry about all this."
Sgt. Crowley: "Sir, I appreciate your apology."
Professor Gates: "I have got to get that damn door fixed."
Joe Biden: "Oh look, pretzels!"
President Obama: "Gentlemen thank you for coming."
What a utopian world? Your neighbor sees someone breaking into a house, they call the police and they immediately show up. That is the kind of stuff that only ever happens on the Andy Griffin Show.
However, we live in the 2000s, so let's screw this story up. Let's say the above happens. Now let's say the person who was doing the 'breaking in' was actually the resident, who is a highly regarded professor at the best university in the world outside of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and he was busting his shoulder against the door because the door was jammed. Let's assume then when the police officer shows up, the professor who was busting in the house calls the cop a racist. Then let's further assume, the President of the United States, on national television says the police officer acted stupidly. Then let's further assume that the New York Times sends whatever reporters they don't have in Alaska to this guy's house to ask him why he is a racist cop.
Oh, but we aren't done, let's further assume that when the 'racist' cop's black partner says he would have arrested the professor for his actions related to busting into this own house. And let's further assume the racist cop actually teaches other cops how not to be racist, and how not to profile people of color.
Then, let's assume the President goes on national television again, admits that he regrets committing a huge controversy, but refuses to apologize to the cop, but the president invites the professor and the cop over to his house for a beer.
Had the last part not have happened, the Beer Commissioner would not be involved. But since the President of the United States is having a beer with a Professor Gates, Sgt. Crowley at the White House, I just had to interject myself into the situation. It is a little known fact, but, my beer sources told me what happened at today's meeting. Of course, I had to share with you.
President Obama: "Gentlemen I invited both of you here today to have a beer, hopefully let bygones be bygones. I also invited Vice President Biden here. As we all know, we all say things we regret, and Joe here, well, he's about as good as it gets in saying things he later regrets."
Joe Biden: "Actually I just came because I love Schlitz Malt Liquor."
Professor Gates: "This is what it's like to be a black man in America."
Sgt. Crowley: "I wouldn't know."
Joe Biden: "Hell Barack doesn't know either, he was born in Kenya."
President Obama stares intently at Joe Biden.
Joe Biden: "Did I miss something? Are we having Colt 45 instead?"
Professor Gates: "I should have stayed in China."
President Obama: "Sgt. Crowley, like I was saying, we all say stupid things,and that's why I asked Joe to sit in on this meeting."
Sgt. Crowley: "Yes, Mr. President, sometimes you just can't help who you work with some days."
Professor Gates squirms in his seat.
President Obama: "Well, lucky for you, you can arrest people that piss you off, Joe was on the ballot, so I'm kinda stuck with him for the next 4 years."
Joe Biden: "Hey Barack, do you have a funnel?"
Professor Gates: "Was Oprah not available?"
Sgt. Crowley: "Wasn't your book in her book club?"
President Obama and Professor Gates together: "Yes."
Joe Biden: "Hey, I plagarized a book once."
Professor Gates: "I think its time we cut Joe off the beer."
Joe Biden: "Oh its ok, I'm taking the train home."
President Obama: "Gentlemen, I'm really sorry about all this."
Sgt. Crowley: "Sir, I appreciate your apology."
Professor Gates: "I have got to get that damn door fixed."
Joe Biden: "Oh look, pretzels!"
President Obama: "Gentlemen thank you for coming."
Beer Commissioner Speaks on Committing Adultery
Once again the Beer Commissioner is here to help. Yet another politician has lost his away, and has thrown his career down the proverbial toilet. I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of these poor politicians getting caught with their pants down, and having their promising careers ended long before they have the chance to sell a Senate seat, stuff cash in their freezer, or get indicted for making huge profits on land deals.
So, I've decided to write the Beer Commissioner's Adultery Primer for Politicians. By following my simple rules, any politician will save themselves from the shame of having to resign office long before they have the chance to swindle millions of taxpayer dollars, setting up their families for life, right before they are indicted.
First, say you are a Senator or a Congressman and you happen to like gay sex. Like I said many times before, the Beer Commissioner is a progressive guy. I don't care what kind of sex anyone has, or who you want to have sex with. That's your business, and I'm quite happy to stay out of your business. However, if you are a Senator or Congressman and you like having gay sex, avoid having gay sex in airport restroom stalls or with Capitol pages. You Senators and Congressmen go on junkets to high dollar resorts all the time. Do what everyone else does. Meet your boy toy through craigslist. Odds are the boy toy isn't going to know you are a Congressman or a Senator. Only about 40% of Americans know who the Vice-President is, do you really think they can identify the senior Senator from Idaho? I couldn't pick Larry Craig out of a photo line-up, but airport security had no problem frog marching him to his mug shot when he decided to play footsie in a airport bathroom. Also, avoid Capitol pages. Seriously, nothing good is going to come from having sex with a 16-18 year old employee. Besides, the pages only work for 6 week terms. Would it really kill you to wait 7 weeks when they are an ex-page?
Second, say you are a governor or a United States Senator and you like having sex with prostitutes. A Hollywood movie star was once asked why he paid for sex with a prostitute? He replied, I didn't pay for sex, I paid for them to leave. He didn't say I paid for them to leave and keep a secret. Ben Franklin once said, three people can keep a secret if 2 of them are dead. Seriously guys, do you really think a prostitute is going to keep her mouth shut about having sex with you? About once an election cycle, Larry Flynt offers up $1 million to anyone who has sexual dirt on a politician. Let's pretend for a second. Pretend you are Elliot Spitzer's prostitute, and Larry Flynt has just offered up $1 million for any dirt on a politician. What do you do if you are the prostitute? Easy, screw Gov. Spitzer, make him pay you the $4K, then make a copy of his credit card (for verification purposes) then call Larry Flynt. A little hint to the politicians: hookers are in the hooking business to make money, not friends, and not political connections. David Vitter, do you really think your hooker was just spending time with you because she wanted a vacant federal judgeship? If you politicians are so dumb that you think these hookers are not going to turn on you in a heartbeat when they have a chance to make money standing up, then you do not deserve the opportunity to hide $90,000.00 in your freezer.
Third, say you are a governor of a small southern state. And, let's just go crazy and assume that you like having sex with Argentine women. Hey, nothing wrong with that. Argentine women are beautiful. However, if you are a governor, it is generally not good to leave the country without telling ANYONE, including your wife, as to your whereabouts. Surely to heavens, the governor of a state can come up with a reason to visit just about any place. If you are so dumb, so as not to be able to come up with a reason to substantiate a weekend outside your state, then you are too dumb to have the opportunity to sell a Senate seat. Frankly, any wife who sits by, on Father's Day weekend and 'allows' her husband to go out of town for 5 days without knowing where he is going, or how to contact him, doesn't really have the right to be sitting in a governor's mansion either. As a married guy, with children, on Father's Day, I think it is reasonable, for a wife to insist, hemispherically speaking, where you will be.
Fourth, say you are President of the United States. Well....just don't smoke cigars with interns in blue dresses and you are home free.
Guys, it isn't that hard. Please follow the Beer Commissioner's Rules for Committing Adultery, and you too, will have the chance to fleece the electorate at will!
So, I've decided to write the Beer Commissioner's Adultery Primer for Politicians. By following my simple rules, any politician will save themselves from the shame of having to resign office long before they have the chance to swindle millions of taxpayer dollars, setting up their families for life, right before they are indicted.
First, say you are a Senator or a Congressman and you happen to like gay sex. Like I said many times before, the Beer Commissioner is a progressive guy. I don't care what kind of sex anyone has, or who you want to have sex with. That's your business, and I'm quite happy to stay out of your business. However, if you are a Senator or Congressman and you like having gay sex, avoid having gay sex in airport restroom stalls or with Capitol pages. You Senators and Congressmen go on junkets to high dollar resorts all the time. Do what everyone else does. Meet your boy toy through craigslist. Odds are the boy toy isn't going to know you are a Congressman or a Senator. Only about 40% of Americans know who the Vice-President is, do you really think they can identify the senior Senator from Idaho? I couldn't pick Larry Craig out of a photo line-up, but airport security had no problem frog marching him to his mug shot when he decided to play footsie in a airport bathroom. Also, avoid Capitol pages. Seriously, nothing good is going to come from having sex with a 16-18 year old employee. Besides, the pages only work for 6 week terms. Would it really kill you to wait 7 weeks when they are an ex-page?
Second, say you are a governor or a United States Senator and you like having sex with prostitutes. A Hollywood movie star was once asked why he paid for sex with a prostitute? He replied, I didn't pay for sex, I paid for them to leave. He didn't say I paid for them to leave and keep a secret. Ben Franklin once said, three people can keep a secret if 2 of them are dead. Seriously guys, do you really think a prostitute is going to keep her mouth shut about having sex with you? About once an election cycle, Larry Flynt offers up $1 million to anyone who has sexual dirt on a politician. Let's pretend for a second. Pretend you are Elliot Spitzer's prostitute, and Larry Flynt has just offered up $1 million for any dirt on a politician. What do you do if you are the prostitute? Easy, screw Gov. Spitzer, make him pay you the $4K, then make a copy of his credit card (for verification purposes) then call Larry Flynt. A little hint to the politicians: hookers are in the hooking business to make money, not friends, and not political connections. David Vitter, do you really think your hooker was just spending time with you because she wanted a vacant federal judgeship? If you politicians are so dumb that you think these hookers are not going to turn on you in a heartbeat when they have a chance to make money standing up, then you do not deserve the opportunity to hide $90,000.00 in your freezer.
Third, say you are a governor of a small southern state. And, let's just go crazy and assume that you like having sex with Argentine women. Hey, nothing wrong with that. Argentine women are beautiful. However, if you are a governor, it is generally not good to leave the country without telling ANYONE, including your wife, as to your whereabouts. Surely to heavens, the governor of a state can come up with a reason to visit just about any place. If you are so dumb, so as not to be able to come up with a reason to substantiate a weekend outside your state, then you are too dumb to have the opportunity to sell a Senate seat. Frankly, any wife who sits by, on Father's Day weekend and 'allows' her husband to go out of town for 5 days without knowing where he is going, or how to contact him, doesn't really have the right to be sitting in a governor's mansion either. As a married guy, with children, on Father's Day, I think it is reasonable, for a wife to insist, hemispherically speaking, where you will be.
Fourth, say you are President of the United States. Well....just don't smoke cigars with interns in blue dresses and you are home free.
Guys, it isn't that hard. Please follow the Beer Commissioner's Rules for Committing Adultery, and you too, will have the chance to fleece the electorate at will!
Beer Commissioner speaks on whining....
I've officially had it. Americans need to get their collective sticks out of their nether regions. The people in this country whine entirely too much. I'm not sure when it started. My grandparents walked 20 miles to school each day, up-hill both ways, got an orange in their stocking for Christmas, and ate cardboard every meal of the year, and they didn't complain. They didn't have tv, telephones or the internet. Hell, they couldn't drink either, because they were in their teens and 20s during prohibition. They never whined. They told me so.
You didn't read about the peace-niks and the Greenpeacers being human shields during WWII. People didn't care if our president spent the week in Georgia with his mistress, let alone, going to dinner with his wife in New York. It seems everyone has to whine about something. Constantly.
A friend of our family broke his collarbone yesterday, doing of all things---PLAYING OUTSIDE. Kids just don't break bones anymore. Mrs. Commissioner and I were talking about that yesterday. I told her to think about it. When we were 7, there were 12 channels on the TV, there was no internet, Atari hadn't come out, and we were still 7 years away from the Commodore 64. We had to play outside, or, at least my dad would've used that white belt he had in his closet to spank me. As a consequence of playing outside, we fell out of trees we climbed, broke bones trying to jump things on our bike, or broke arms playing football in the backyard. My parents personally sent all of my orthopoedic surgeon's kids to college, with my help.
I'm not sure when the whining started. It starts around 6:00 a.m. every morning in my house. It starts with "I want a poptart", "I want milk", " I want Wow Wow Wubbzy". Every morning, and every evening ends the exact same way. The middle of the day is filled with whining too. And not from the little deputies, but from the news and our elected officials and professional agitators. I'm telling you, I've seen the most absurd news stories of late coming out of Washington. Today, Senator Boxer was whining to some General to call her Senator, instead of the highly offensive term, "ma'am". Since when did "ma'am" become a derrogatory term? It is proper ettiquette to address the Queen as "ma'am", although they pronounce it as mum, yet Senator Boxer felt the need to berate and whine to a general that she earned her title and wished it to be used.
Then yesterday the President is about to give an interview. A fly was buzzing the tower. The President did what apparently everyone not in PETA does, he swatted the fly and killed it. The PETA folks went completely nuts that he killed the fly, and suggested he should have a humane fly catching trap to safely and humanely release the fly back into the environment. I'd suggest putting one in his Christmas stocking, but surely someone will whine about the hanging of a Christmas stocking in the White House. I only mention PETA because I tried to send my wife's, dearly departed cat to Peru for the cat eating festival in hopes of getting PETA to protest me, but no such luck. I noticed PETA apparently had no problems when the President ordered the Navy Seals to kill 3 teenagers a few months ago for swashbuckling activities in the Indian Ocean. Imagine the outrage had the President ordered the seals to take out a whale instead of the three kids?
Since when have we reached the point in this country when we cannot refer to a woman as "ma'am", or we can't swat a fly? If things get much more out of control, Jose Canseco is going to sue baseball for allowing him to use steroids. Oh, but that will never happen.
C'mon people, relax a bit, enjoy a nice cold beer, and don't sweat the small stuff. It will be ok. I promise.
You didn't read about the peace-niks and the Greenpeacers being human shields during WWII. People didn't care if our president spent the week in Georgia with his mistress, let alone, going to dinner with his wife in New York. It seems everyone has to whine about something. Constantly.
A friend of our family broke his collarbone yesterday, doing of all things---PLAYING OUTSIDE. Kids just don't break bones anymore. Mrs. Commissioner and I were talking about that yesterday. I told her to think about it. When we were 7, there were 12 channels on the TV, there was no internet, Atari hadn't come out, and we were still 7 years away from the Commodore 64. We had to play outside, or, at least my dad would've used that white belt he had in his closet to spank me. As a consequence of playing outside, we fell out of trees we climbed, broke bones trying to jump things on our bike, or broke arms playing football in the backyard. My parents personally sent all of my orthopoedic surgeon's kids to college, with my help.
I'm not sure when the whining started. It starts around 6:00 a.m. every morning in my house. It starts with "I want a poptart", "I want milk", " I want Wow Wow Wubbzy". Every morning, and every evening ends the exact same way. The middle of the day is filled with whining too. And not from the little deputies, but from the news and our elected officials and professional agitators. I'm telling you, I've seen the most absurd news stories of late coming out of Washington. Today, Senator Boxer was whining to some General to call her Senator, instead of the highly offensive term, "ma'am". Since when did "ma'am" become a derrogatory term? It is proper ettiquette to address the Queen as "ma'am", although they pronounce it as mum, yet Senator Boxer felt the need to berate and whine to a general that she earned her title and wished it to be used.
Then yesterday the President is about to give an interview. A fly was buzzing the tower. The President did what apparently everyone not in PETA does, he swatted the fly and killed it. The PETA folks went completely nuts that he killed the fly, and suggested he should have a humane fly catching trap to safely and humanely release the fly back into the environment. I'd suggest putting one in his Christmas stocking, but surely someone will whine about the hanging of a Christmas stocking in the White House. I only mention PETA because I tried to send my wife's, dearly departed cat to Peru for the cat eating festival in hopes of getting PETA to protest me, but no such luck. I noticed PETA apparently had no problems when the President ordered the Navy Seals to kill 3 teenagers a few months ago for swashbuckling activities in the Indian Ocean. Imagine the outrage had the President ordered the seals to take out a whale instead of the three kids?
Since when have we reached the point in this country when we cannot refer to a woman as "ma'am", or we can't swat a fly? If things get much more out of control, Jose Canseco is going to sue baseball for allowing him to use steroids. Oh, but that will never happen.
C'mon people, relax a bit, enjoy a nice cold beer, and don't sweat the small stuff. It will be ok. I promise.
Beer Commissioner Speaks on his More Great Places to Drink Beer
The Commish had a great weekend. Mrs. Commissioner sent me on what she affectionately referred to as a bro-mance weekend with my friends Brad and Kevin. Brad is stationed in the Navy in Japan, and Kevin lives 'just' outside of Philadelphia. The Navy saw fit to send the good Lieutenant to Naval Justice school in Rhode Island. Brad was furloughed for the weekend, so we converged on Philadelphia.
After being picked up at the airport, we of course headed straight to the bar. I enjoyed a few Yuengling's then it was home. Of course, we made the obligatory stop for snacks. I picked up 3 cases of Tastykakes.
On Saturday we basically pub crawled through Philadelphia, prior to seeing the WORLD CHAMPION PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES. Two places stood out as superior beer drinking establishments, which will now be awarded the Beer Commissioner's Award of Distinguished, and are now therefore, among the Beer Commissioner's Best Places to Drink Beer.
First, we went to Monk's Cafe on Spruce Street. Monk's specializes in Belgian beers. I'm not sure how many different varieties of beer they had, but let's just say if you went there every single day and had a beer, it would take you way more than a year to have one of everything. In addition to the vast selection of beers, all of the Belgian beers were served in the appropriate mug. The ambiance of the place was great. Certainly no fern bar, but just a good old fashioned drinking pub. After having a beer or 3 at Monk's we strolled a bit further and found Tria.
Tria is a fern bar type of place. Definately the type of place you take a sophisticated sort of date. They serve fine wines, good cheese selections and a wonderful beer selection. I tried the Stone IPA, which was absolutely wonderful. The wait staff was great, and our bar babe was a major hottie.
After our pub crawl we headed to Citizen's Bank Park to see the WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES. Of course, more beer, cheesesteaks, rain delays, terrible fielding, but a wonderfully great time. I wish the trip would have been longer. The weather was wonderful as well. Highs around 72 with no humidity. Of course when I landed back in New Orleans, and it was 98 with 100 percent humidity I was reminded of the old WC Fields quote, "All in all, I'd rather be in Philadelphia."
After being picked up at the airport, we of course headed straight to the bar. I enjoyed a few Yuengling's then it was home. Of course, we made the obligatory stop for snacks. I picked up 3 cases of Tastykakes.
On Saturday we basically pub crawled through Philadelphia, prior to seeing the WORLD CHAMPION PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES. Two places stood out as superior beer drinking establishments, which will now be awarded the Beer Commissioner's Award of Distinguished, and are now therefore, among the Beer Commissioner's Best Places to Drink Beer.
First, we went to Monk's Cafe on Spruce Street. Monk's specializes in Belgian beers. I'm not sure how many different varieties of beer they had, but let's just say if you went there every single day and had a beer, it would take you way more than a year to have one of everything. In addition to the vast selection of beers, all of the Belgian beers were served in the appropriate mug. The ambiance of the place was great. Certainly no fern bar, but just a good old fashioned drinking pub. After having a beer or 3 at Monk's we strolled a bit further and found Tria.
Tria is a fern bar type of place. Definately the type of place you take a sophisticated sort of date. They serve fine wines, good cheese selections and a wonderful beer selection. I tried the Stone IPA, which was absolutely wonderful. The wait staff was great, and our bar babe was a major hottie.
After our pub crawl we headed to Citizen's Bank Park to see the WORLD CHAMPION PHILLIES. Of course, more beer, cheesesteaks, rain delays, terrible fielding, but a wonderfully great time. I wish the trip would have been longer. The weather was wonderful as well. Highs around 72 with no humidity. Of course when I landed back in New Orleans, and it was 98 with 100 percent humidity I was reminded of the old WC Fields quote, "All in all, I'd rather be in Philadelphia."
Beer Commissioner Speaks on Being Cat Free
My wife's cat has gone to the litter box in the sky. Those of you who are faithful readers of my blog know of the long tortured relationship I had with my wife's cat. For those of you, who do not know, I'll give you a little background. When I first met Mrs. Commissioner 7 years ago she had three cats. All three of them were given as gifts to the engineer who designed the Great Wall of China. Talk about winning a booby prize?
The first cat, Chelsea, actually liked me. Mrs. Commissioner said she knew I was 'the one', when Chelsea liked me, because Chelsea didn't like anyone. Chelsea was an old grey cat, who lived under the bed, and only came out to hiss at people. Chelsea went to visit the litter box in the sky, the day after Thanksgiving, approximately 6 years ago. I had no issues with Chelsea. She used the litter box, she rarely left the underside of the bed, and I think she would have tried to claw someone's eyes out had someone tried to attack us.
The second cat, Fooshie, didn't like me, but he was mostly an outside cat. Fooshie was an independent sort of soul, would run off for days at a time, and come home to eat. Fooshie was voted most likely to have fleas forever by his high school class , and a little known Fooshie fact, is that he taught Andrew Zimmern how to eat all those weird foods. Fooshie too, was kind enough not to wear out his welcome. One day, I'm outside grilling steaks, drinking an ice-cold beer, and Fooshie walked up the driveway after one of his 3 day vacations from the family with a golf ball sized tumor right behind his eye. I immediately took poor Fooshie to the vet. That was 4 years ago. Keep in mind, of the three cats my wife had, both Fooshie and Chelsea were younger than Dacquiri A. Cat.
Perhaps Dacquiri hated me because I took the other 2 cats to the vet. Perhaps he hated me because I didn't like him, and didn't hide it very well. Dacquiri was approximately 6,000 years old. He hadn't used a litter box in years. He was stone deaf, and blind in his right eye. He didn't have most of his teeth. He vomitted approximately 400 times a day. He ruined all of our outside furniture. We had to replace the carpet because of him. I'm going to miss pressure washing the pool deck every Saturday. Dacquiri caused my beloved Crimson Tide to lose their final two games last year by hexing my blanket (see prior blog). I have been rooting for Dacquiri's death for quite some time.
Mrs. Commissioner was out of town for a few days, and I was left to tend to her beast. I noticed the cat was leaving strange things in his food dish, and was otherwise not seeming like his evil self. He didn't seem like he wanted to eat me. I took him to the vet on Thursday, and the vet checked him over. She deemed him senile and dizzy, but that he 'had a good 6-8 months left'. The next day, Mrs. Commissioner and I get the kids in bed, and we decide to get in the hot tub. We pour some adult beverages, and open up the door to go to the hot tub. Mrs. Commissioner lets out a blood-curtling scream, I sincerely hope NOBODY on earth ever has to hear, ever. Right there in our swimming pool was Dacquiri A. Cat doing the dead-cat float in the swimming pool. Mrs. Commissioner jumps into the pool and pulls the cat out. She hands me the cat, who weighed three times his normal size, because he was filled with water. I put the cat down on the ground, and Mrs. Commissioner is screaming, FIX HIM, FIX HIM!!!
I do not do well with women screaming at me. I do not do well with women crying either. When I hear screaming and crying, my instincts are to make it stop, immediately. So, Mrs. Commissioner is screaming FIX HIM, so, like the good lifeguard that I used to be, I started performing CPR on the cat. After about a minute or so of this, I declare to Mrs. Commissioner, "Sweetie, he's gone." She screams, HE CAN'T BE, FIX HIM!!! So, back to the CPR. I perform CPR on the cat for 10 minutes or so, to the background of hysterical crying, and I'll be damned if that cat didn't pick his head up and meow. I'm not kidding. This cat came back to life. Needless to say, we never did make it into the hottub.
We stayed up with the cat for a better part of the night. I'm not sure if he had a stroke, which caused hiim to fall into the pool, or if he suffered brain damage from being in the pool. In any event, poor Dacquiri never really could walk again. On Saturday morning, we fed him breakfast, and Mrs. Commissioner brushed him real good and said her goodbyes, and I took him to the vet. R.I.P Dacquiri A. Cat.
The first cat, Chelsea, actually liked me. Mrs. Commissioner said she knew I was 'the one', when Chelsea liked me, because Chelsea didn't like anyone. Chelsea was an old grey cat, who lived under the bed, and only came out to hiss at people. Chelsea went to visit the litter box in the sky, the day after Thanksgiving, approximately 6 years ago. I had no issues with Chelsea. She used the litter box, she rarely left the underside of the bed, and I think she would have tried to claw someone's eyes out had someone tried to attack us.
The second cat, Fooshie, didn't like me, but he was mostly an outside cat. Fooshie was an independent sort of soul, would run off for days at a time, and come home to eat. Fooshie was voted most likely to have fleas forever by his high school class , and a little known Fooshie fact, is that he taught Andrew Zimmern how to eat all those weird foods. Fooshie too, was kind enough not to wear out his welcome. One day, I'm outside grilling steaks, drinking an ice-cold beer, and Fooshie walked up the driveway after one of his 3 day vacations from the family with a golf ball sized tumor right behind his eye. I immediately took poor Fooshie to the vet. That was 4 years ago. Keep in mind, of the three cats my wife had, both Fooshie and Chelsea were younger than Dacquiri A. Cat.
Perhaps Dacquiri hated me because I took the other 2 cats to the vet. Perhaps he hated me because I didn't like him, and didn't hide it very well. Dacquiri was approximately 6,000 years old. He hadn't used a litter box in years. He was stone deaf, and blind in his right eye. He didn't have most of his teeth. He vomitted approximately 400 times a day. He ruined all of our outside furniture. We had to replace the carpet because of him. I'm going to miss pressure washing the pool deck every Saturday. Dacquiri caused my beloved Crimson Tide to lose their final two games last year by hexing my blanket (see prior blog). I have been rooting for Dacquiri's death for quite some time.
Mrs. Commissioner was out of town for a few days, and I was left to tend to her beast. I noticed the cat was leaving strange things in his food dish, and was otherwise not seeming like his evil self. He didn't seem like he wanted to eat me. I took him to the vet on Thursday, and the vet checked him over. She deemed him senile and dizzy, but that he 'had a good 6-8 months left'. The next day, Mrs. Commissioner and I get the kids in bed, and we decide to get in the hot tub. We pour some adult beverages, and open up the door to go to the hot tub. Mrs. Commissioner lets out a blood-curtling scream, I sincerely hope NOBODY on earth ever has to hear, ever. Right there in our swimming pool was Dacquiri A. Cat doing the dead-cat float in the swimming pool. Mrs. Commissioner jumps into the pool and pulls the cat out. She hands me the cat, who weighed three times his normal size, because he was filled with water. I put the cat down on the ground, and Mrs. Commissioner is screaming, FIX HIM, FIX HIM!!!
I do not do well with women screaming at me. I do not do well with women crying either. When I hear screaming and crying, my instincts are to make it stop, immediately. So, Mrs. Commissioner is screaming FIX HIM, so, like the good lifeguard that I used to be, I started performing CPR on the cat. After about a minute or so of this, I declare to Mrs. Commissioner, "Sweetie, he's gone." She screams, HE CAN'T BE, FIX HIM!!! So, back to the CPR. I perform CPR on the cat for 10 minutes or so, to the background of hysterical crying, and I'll be damned if that cat didn't pick his head up and meow. I'm not kidding. This cat came back to life. Needless to say, we never did make it into the hottub.
We stayed up with the cat for a better part of the night. I'm not sure if he had a stroke, which caused hiim to fall into the pool, or if he suffered brain damage from being in the pool. In any event, poor Dacquiri never really could walk again. On Saturday morning, we fed him breakfast, and Mrs. Commissioner brushed him real good and said her goodbyes, and I took him to the vet. R.I.P Dacquiri A. Cat.
Beer Commissioner Speaks on Missed Opportunities
Life sometimes serves up disappointment. You deal with it and move on to other things. Nothing is more disappointing than missing out on an opportunity you didn't even know existed. I am distraught on the opportunity I apparently missed with the passage of the latest federal budget. The story is here: www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/05/08/government-funds-study-gay-sex-argentina-bars/.
Folks, this goes down into the Greatest Missed Opportunities Ever by the Beer Commissioner category. Our United States government decided to give some college professor in Argentina $400,000.00 to study why men have risky sex in Argentine gay bars. For real. I'm not making this up. Why was this not posted on monster.com? Why isn't there a website that publishes these opportunities? Why did I not get an email from my congressman that said, Dear Beer Commissioner, would you volunteer to take $400,000.00 to study and tell us why gay men in Argentina engage in risky gay sex in bars, because if you don't take it, we are going to find someone who will?
Now, the obvious question is, what makes me qualified for this? Do I speak Spanish? No, but I can find a couple of Mexican guys at the Home Depot who do. Have I ever been to Argentina? No, but I have seen Evita, and I still think Madonna is hot. Am I gay? No, but I do think Madonna is hot. Have I ever been in a bar? Well duh. Have I ever been in a gay bar? I live in New Orleans, of course. And finally, do I have any idea what causes people in bars to engage in unsafe sexual activities? Well of course I do.
So, I have concluded the in-depth study, citations included. People go to bars to drink and have a good time. (See the epic film Roadhouse). Bars traditionally serve alcoholic beverages, including beer, wine and hard liquor. (See the classic television show Cheers!). When people go to bars, and consume alcoholic beverages, their libido tends to rise, creating sexual arousal and the loss of inhibitions. (See the epic film Cocktail) If toward the end of the night, the drunk and uninhibited person has still not found a hook-up, their standards and inhibitions lower even more in an attempt to satisfy their sexual needs. (See generally, the term 'Beer Goggling'). This phenomenon is not limited to heterosexual couples (See the film, Priscilla Queen of the Desert). Based upon these undisputed facts, gay men in Argentina go to bars to drink and have a good time. As a result of their drinking, they get horny. The later it gets in the evening, the drunker and hornier they get, they throw caution to the wind and hook up with any random guy they see fit to satisfy their urges and desires. They'd most likely engage in safe sex, but the condom dispenser in the bathroom was broken.
Please forward the $400,000.00 to me as soon as possible.
Folks, this goes down into the Greatest Missed Opportunities Ever by the Beer Commissioner category. Our United States government decided to give some college professor in Argentina $400,000.00 to study why men have risky sex in Argentine gay bars. For real. I'm not making this up. Why was this not posted on monster.com? Why isn't there a website that publishes these opportunities? Why did I not get an email from my congressman that said, Dear Beer Commissioner, would you volunteer to take $400,000.00 to study and tell us why gay men in Argentina engage in risky gay sex in bars, because if you don't take it, we are going to find someone who will?
Now, the obvious question is, what makes me qualified for this? Do I speak Spanish? No, but I can find a couple of Mexican guys at the Home Depot who do. Have I ever been to Argentina? No, but I have seen Evita, and I still think Madonna is hot. Am I gay? No, but I do think Madonna is hot. Have I ever been in a bar? Well duh. Have I ever been in a gay bar? I live in New Orleans, of course. And finally, do I have any idea what causes people in bars to engage in unsafe sexual activities? Well of course I do.
So, I have concluded the in-depth study, citations included. People go to bars to drink and have a good time. (See the epic film Roadhouse). Bars traditionally serve alcoholic beverages, including beer, wine and hard liquor. (See the classic television show Cheers!). When people go to bars, and consume alcoholic beverages, their libido tends to rise, creating sexual arousal and the loss of inhibitions. (See the epic film Cocktail) If toward the end of the night, the drunk and uninhibited person has still not found a hook-up, their standards and inhibitions lower even more in an attempt to satisfy their sexual needs. (See generally, the term 'Beer Goggling'). This phenomenon is not limited to heterosexual couples (See the film, Priscilla Queen of the Desert). Based upon these undisputed facts, gay men in Argentina go to bars to drink and have a good time. As a result of their drinking, they get horny. The later it gets in the evening, the drunker and hornier they get, they throw caution to the wind and hook up with any random guy they see fit to satisfy their urges and desires. They'd most likely engage in safe sex, but the condom dispenser in the bathroom was broken.
Please forward the $400,000.00 to me as soon as possible.
Beer Commissioner Announces....
The First Annual Beer Commissioner Awards! Yes, you heard me, the Beer Commissioner is giving out awards. Does this mean I'm straying off course from my stated mission of not endorsing one beer over another? Oh heavens no! After all, Gary Bettman gives out the Stanley Cup every year. The football commissioner hands out the Lombardi trophy. Bud Selig gives out MVP awards, Cy Young awards, etc.
So, this year the Beer Commissioner is giving out his First Annual Beer Awards. Awards will be given in the following categories:
Best New Brewery: Awards will be given to any brewery opened from January 1, 2008 until now.
Best Import: Are you the type that likes to stick a lime in the neck of your beer bottle? Or do you like watching black bubbles in a proper beer mug?
Best Stout including Irish Dry Stouts, Imperial Stouts, Oatmeal Stouts
Best Ale, including wheat ales, blonde or golden ales, cream ales, Belgian style ales, English style Pale ales, Scottish ales and Irish Ales.
Best Lager
Best Specialty Beer: This category will apply to limited run beers put in distribution for a short period of time, e.g. Holiday Beers.
Best Weizen Beer
Best Hefeweizen
Best Brewery
Best Bock
Best Porter
Best Overall
That's 12 categories of Beer Commissioner Awards. I have assembled a distinguished panel of judges and beer tasters to hand out the awards. You might ask what does the winner receive? Well, each winner will receive the prestigious Beer Commissioner trophy, they will get notoriety on the Beer Commissioner website, as well as one year worth of Beer Commissioner goodwill.
If your brewery wants to be considered for a Beer Commissioner award just shoot me an email, and I'll let you know what you need to do. commissioner@beercommissioner.com
The awards will be announced on June 30, 2009. Good Luck!
So, this year the Beer Commissioner is giving out his First Annual Beer Awards. Awards will be given in the following categories:
Best New Brewery: Awards will be given to any brewery opened from January 1, 2008 until now.
Best Import: Are you the type that likes to stick a lime in the neck of your beer bottle? Or do you like watching black bubbles in a proper beer mug?
Best Stout including Irish Dry Stouts, Imperial Stouts, Oatmeal Stouts
Best Ale, including wheat ales, blonde or golden ales, cream ales, Belgian style ales, English style Pale ales, Scottish ales and Irish Ales.
Best Lager
Best Specialty Beer: This category will apply to limited run beers put in distribution for a short period of time, e.g. Holiday Beers.
Best Weizen Beer
Best Hefeweizen
Best Brewery
Best Bock
Best Porter
Best Overall
That's 12 categories of Beer Commissioner Awards. I have assembled a distinguished panel of judges and beer tasters to hand out the awards. You might ask what does the winner receive? Well, each winner will receive the prestigious Beer Commissioner trophy, they will get notoriety on the Beer Commissioner website, as well as one year worth of Beer Commissioner goodwill.
If your brewery wants to be considered for a Beer Commissioner award just shoot me an email, and I'll let you know what you need to do. commissioner@beercommissioner.com
The awards will be announced on June 30, 2009. Good Luck!