Archive for July, 2009

Interview with Dick Manitoba!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 31, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Dick Manitoba of the legendary punk rock band “The Dictators!” Telling a story about Sid Vicious! How could you miss it?

Youtube link here.

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The Presidential Beer Party, and What It Means for America

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 30, 2009 by thebrewyorker

We all know about the incident with Henry “Skip” Gates, Sgt. James Crowley, and our man, Barack Obama.   Some yelling happened, some arresting of a respected Harvard professor in his own house was involved, a president trying to change our healthcare system for the better was asked a bullshit question when he wasn’t quite ready for it – the whole thing’s been a bit of a kerfuffle.  But tonight, they will settle it with beer.  The question’s been on everyone’s mind.  What beer?  Will they go local?  Will they be good choices?  Well, the tally’s in and it’s… no… no… yes.

I got an e-mail this morning from my buddy Patrick, and together, we broke down what this all means, and what should have happened.

Obama: Choice – Bud Light

Pat: After many years of drinking Budweiser as a price-point/identity thing (cheap, straightforward, no would-be hipness to it), I’ve come to find it a bit oppressive. I drink it, but sort of revolt when someone takes a six-pack of Bud tallboys out of the bag. (For what it’s worth, I’ve switched to regular Coors (not light), ever since I discovered the 99-cent 24 oz. can. Bud Lite, of course, is ridiculous. I drink it too, from time to time, but to choose it as a totem … Obama is either a female collegiate soccer player or a boring, wimpy yuppy.

Jake: Bud Light?  For Barack Obama?  This is just wrong.  This is meant to be the president of change!  The president who will bring us away from this time of Corporate Oligarchies and into an enlightened age of small business owners! Damn you, Barack Obama!

What should Obama Drink?

Jake: Small business America
Pat: Presidente

Crowley: Choice – Blue Moon

Pat: Never really got on board with Blue Moon, the taste is a little fruity for me, my take is that it had some cachet for a time as a fancy beer for regular prices—it sort of allows you the sensibility of drinking Chimay, etc., without having to shell out. But I really don’t see so much Blue Moon any more. That a cop would choose it is sort of funny—”Blue Moon” sounds like the name of the gay bar Harris and Proctor would happen into in a Police Academy movie. Maybe a sort of cynical PR move—”I’ll show ’em how refined I am,” only its not really that refined. On the other hand, maybe he really likes the stuff, which is at least possible, as opposed to Barry and his Bud Lite.

Jake: Blue Moon is not a bad beer, but it’s actually owned by Coors.  Once again, the president is shelling out bucks to the man.  Mother-fuckers.  Going out supporting all those corporations.  I never believed that 9-11 was a conspiracy until this moment!  It’s all been made clear to me now!  I understand!  I get it!  “Loose Change” is obviously a work of staggering genius! Someone get those boys a medal!  Also, I’ll bet you he takes his beer with fruit. Pussy Cambridge cops…

What should Crowley drink?

Pat: Samuel Adams
Jake: Negra Modela – but only so that this scene may happen:

Panel 1Panel 2Panel 3panel 4Panel 5Panel 6

Gates: Choice – Red Stripe

Pat: Last I heard, Gates hadn’t chosen between Red Stripe or Becks. I used to like to drink Red Stripe—if nothing else, the bottles are fun—I don’t take it that seriously now, but it might just be the way my tastes run. Becks on the other hand—finally!—a real beer!—I like it even when it’s really stanky!

Jake: Is it wrong that I want to see this?

Hooray Beer!

Pat: Yes.

Jake: Then can I have a beer with the president?

The Brown Paper Bag

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 29, 2009 by thebrewyorker

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of disguising a beer bottle in a brown paper bag. People do it all the time in order to drink while outside; a thrill that never seemed to appeal too much to me, but to each his own. However, I always wondered how it was that cops never caught on; if someone’s drinking something out of a brown paper bag, surely it’s not Pepsi. Well, I finally discovered the secret the other day.

I have this friend, Ray Burr. He’s a cop. Anyway, Ray and I were eating Chinese food and watching “House, M.D.” in my apartment. I figured that, having completed the main meal, it was time to enjoy a much deserved fortune cookie. I reach into the brown paper bag the food was delivered in. Ray looks over at me, and screams “HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHERE DID YOUR HAND GO?” Before I knew it, he had run to the bathroom and came back with half the supplies in my medicine cabinet. As he poured Hydrogen Peroxide over my hand while sobbing and screaming something about his former partner, I tried to convince him that my hand was still there; after all, he was pouring Hydrogen Peroxide on it, as opposed to nothing. Soon, he understood what I was trying to say.

After this display, he was certainly quite embarrassed. He began apologizing profusely, and while at first I only wanted him to forget about it, I eventually decided that now was the perfect time to ask him why he thought my hand had vanished. Being in an emotional state, he quickly explained what I found out was actually a pretty big secret. Are you ready?

Cops can’t see ANYTHING if it’s behind a brown paper bag.

And it’s not just limited to actual brown paper bags. It’s the material. If you have a long sheet of brown paper, you could hide behind it if cops are looking for you. Heck, if you really want, you could build a suit out of brown paper, and you’d be invisible to cops.

I’m actually planning on testing this theory out next week. Funny enough, there are a few things I need from the police station down the block from where I live. This may be my chance to finally reclaim them. I’ll follow up with the results of my mission next week. Until then, remember the magic of brown paper bags.

-David

P.S.: The fortune from my fortune cookie read “Important in your bed, would be living the goods of others.” I’m not sure what “goods” other people are leaving in my bed, but I think that’s something I should look into.

Quick Link!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 28, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Hey folks! Jake and Steele recently worked with Clare Goggin to write up on article on Digital City. Soon, you’ll be seeing Clare on a Brew Yorker video. Prepare yourselves. And meanwhile, enjoy

World Series Of Beer Pong = Beer Pong For Pussies

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 28, 2009 by thebrewyorker

So apparently, there’s a world series of Beer Pong out there. It was started by some guys who wanted to make money promoting Beer Pong. At the time, they’d been playing beer pong four or five nights a week. I think that all these things match up.

Now, I have no problem with having a world series for Beer Pong. In fact, part of me likes the idea. But the part of me that likes the idea is sort of the same part of me that really likes watching sick people vomit and laughing at them, and the world series of beer pong people have cocked that right up by allowing the cups to be filled with water. That is bullshit on a stick.

In a recent article in seattlepi.com, Duncan Carroll, the founder of bpong.com, the home of the World Series of Beer Pong, spoke about the game. “We may not have invented Beer Pong,” he says, “but we did take it to the next level.” Hey Duncan. Fuck you. You do not remove the beer from Beer Pong and then claim that you’ve improved it. You do not make it so that each game, each person on the team is only drinking down one beer and say that you’ve taken it to the next level. Because you’re wrong about Beer Pong. It’s not about “the skill of the competitors in the skill sport of Beer Pong,” you’re an idiot for thinking that and a bigger idiot for saying it. Beer Pong is about getting fucked up and probably also sharing Herpes with all your frat brothers because you’ve been bouncing that same fucking ball across the table where Marty puked last night after he was done making out with that chick Leslie who had Herpes.

What makes Beer Pong fun is that you can’t lose. Either you win the game, or you get to drink beer. That’s about as win-win a scenario as I can imagine. But you don’t know that anymore, Duncan, because you insist that there be no more than 4 oz of beer in each of your little cups, and no more than 48 oz of beer on the table for four people. You have lost. Beer Pong is, say it with me now, Duncan, a DRINKING GAME. The next level is not “c’mon guys, everyone just drinks one beer.” The next level of Beer Pong is fucking Whiskey Pong.

Maybe some of you think I’m being too harsh on old Duncan. You’re thinking, “Jake, c’mon, lots of people like Beer Pong. This is capitalism, find a niche and fill it.” And I’d agree with you, if it weren’t for the fact that Duncan sits around his home practicing using cups filled with water. No. I’m sorry. You are now a solid gold douche.

What great drinking activity are you and your buddies going to pussify next, Duncan? Maybe you’ll create the Orange Juice Century Club? How about Edward Fuji Hands – (with twine instead of duct tape, of course)? Maybe we’ll all have a nice waterfall, and just gleefully pound down a cold cup of water! Joy of fucking joys. Maybe we’ll all play quarters, but we’ll scrub our quarters down with a nice anti-bacterial soap between every flick, would that make you feel better, Duncan?

I’m not the biggest fan of Beer Pong in the world, I’ve played a few rounds in my day, I went to college too, but this is just bullshit. If you want to improve Beer Pong, find a way to make the ball clean. Replace that cup of water with a cup of Everclear, because nothing can survive a dip in a vat of Everclear, try it sometime with your cat.

Incidentally, Beer Pong will be played at our upcoming Brew Yorker party, which you should all come to. Except for Duncan. He’s now officially a douche.

– Jake

Jenice

Posted in Uncategorized on July 27, 2009 by thebrewyorker

It started off as an innocent drinking contest between friends. But what transpired that evening was so horrible, it will make your eyeballs flee.

Youtube link here.

Journal Of An Obnoxious Drunk

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 26, 2009 by thebrewyorker

February, 20th

3 A.M.

Well, it happened again today. They threw me out of the bar again for yelling at the bartender. I just wanted to tell her that I would like to sleep with her later, but the music was too loud. Afterwards, I went to the diner. I asked the waitress what the specials were. She told me and then I just ordered water. You should have seen the look on her face. The manager told me that I had to order something other than that or I had to leave. I told him he has to order something or he has to leave. Then I gave him the finger. I got out of there before he called the cops.

I decided to go to my friend Carl’s house to see if he had any beer in the fridge. His girlfriend answered the door. I asked her if she had any beer. She asked me if I knew what time it was. I asked what that had to do with beer. She slammed the door on me, so I kept ringing the doorbell. Then that reminded me of that song, “Ring My Bell,” so I started signing it really loud. Then Carl came to the door. He told me that his girlfriend had work in the morning so I should stop the noise. I asked him if I could see her naked and he slammed the door on me.

As I write this, I’m slowly realizing something. The nature of friendship is to care for another and be there when that person is in need. I was in need today and my friends turned their backs on me. Sometimes I think I don’t belong in this world and I dream of a land where people will accept me for who I am. They will let me sing off-key, vomit in their cars and make awkward passes at their sisters. Am I not a human being? When you tickle me, do I not laugh? When I do five Irish car-bombs in a row, do I not remember my name? I will not stop dreaming until this becomes a reality. Maybe when I wake up, it will come true. After all, tomorrow is another day.

P.S. I peed the bed again.

– Will