/* Begin Rant */
I drink
Rolling Rock. Compulsively. It is my
beer of choice, the
beer I grew up on, I love it.
The rest of the
world, apparently, takes issue with my preferred beer.
Friends,
relations,
total strangers have tried to convince me that I am somehow less of a
person for drinking Rolling Rock. This is almost massively
ironic, given that the
aforementioned groups partake of a severely
narrow portion of the wide
spectrum of
domestic beers, a portion that could be most accurately described as "
swill."
I have had slobbering,
quasi-coherent jocks clutching BUD ICE cans stumble up to me, peer
angrily at my Rolling Rock in its elegantly painted
bottle, and say something to the effect of "I
question your
manliness and your right to be present at this
social gathering." which usually comes out as "I don't
drink wiv no fackin pusshies. Get the fack outa my housh."
Ah, the very
picture of
elegance,
sophistication, and
eloquence I have come to associate with Bud drinkers.
/* End Rant */