RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Tuesday, September 29

Estrella Damm Lager


AFFORDABILITY: Allow me to play Mr. Consumer here... at the grocery store the pricetag as it sat on the rack said like $9.something per six-pack, but then it had that hang low part in yellow that major grocery store chains do, dropping the price to $6.something or other. Even though this is a chain grocery store that had labels printed beforehand to put on their shelves, exactly on a Wednesday to coincide with newspaper circulars that nobody gets anymore, and there I was, a fucking chump ass dude, with a fresh deposit in the bank account, spending some of my food stamp money on some bok choy and daikon radishes, looking to drop a little extra on something for my lay-back. So I did. It's stupid when I overanalyze it, yet it felt perfect. 7 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: The Estrella Damm put me on tilt, straight up. It's hard sometimes to tell because I've been on this get up early as fuck kick, drinking coffee for like the first time in my life on a regular basis, and I don't really eat. So my body is all warped on it's intake, and sometimes I forget I haven't eaten most of the day and slim through dinner and then drink a few beers, and will be all tilted across the surface of a crooked ass world, and there's nothing scientific about it, which makes these ratings things subjective and ultimately lacking. But I live my stupid life not based on science and factual calculations but mostly metaphysical deliberations that often times have no explanation. The unfortuante thing about the Estrella Damm is that I copped it at the Kroger in the soulless void that is Short Pump on the eternally sprawling western end of Richmond, and I haven't seen it in my more local travels since then, so where the fuck shall I find this fine ale again? Still though, 4 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: A beautiful propaganda-like looking label, one that Shepard Fairey would be more than glad to co-opt for his nefarious pretentious white man purposes. Gold stars on a muted red label is always going to be tight and make me think of warm weather dictators who allow frenzied music festivals where big assed women shake themselves free of oppression one weekend out the year. Really, I’d give up all this supposed democracy to have American women not be so scrawny and jogging and yoga pilatesing away their ample asses. It seems we are either fat fucks with gross factor or string bean chicks with shaved yonis and the ass of a six-year-old boy. The label makes me imagine a chick named Estrella (great Spanish stripper name I would imagine) and going “Dammmmm!” as she walked by, looks over her shoulder smiling... oh man. Also of note is there’s some strange impressions on the bottle, and the label’s in weird Battlestar Galactica shape with no corners. 6 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: It is owned by some Spaniards, and I have no opinion, negative or positive, of the Spaniards. I know they decimated the indigenous peoples of the Americas, but got some big dooky gold chains out the deal. They also sent a hot ass chick to my high school as an exchange student back in the day, who looked good with natural beauty, no make-up. So I’ll give them benefit of the doubt, these Spaniard beer owners. 3 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: I am not a plane rider, not once in my life, so most of my worldwide Lonely Planet Globe Trekker fantasies involve the long rides through North America into Central America and across a ferry on the Panama Canal into South America. Estrella Damm makes me think of what I’d be drinking in strange towns 5000 miles into a shitty cheap Subaru’s transmission’s cross-continent trek, with brown-skinned women serving me brown meats not from a growth hormoned cow, but a backyard chivo extraordinaire, and Estrella Damm wouldn’t be a cheap glossy poster by the glass door beer refrigerator, but a hand-painted tin sign by the reach-in beer cooler, where you slide up the top and dig down. We should all dig down more. We are all a bunch of easily recycled pussies. I guess recycling is good, ultimately, but at the same time, fuck there being anything like me ever again. 5 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 5 STARS!

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