AFFORDABILITY: Guinness Draught is a white man’s beer, which is to say it ain’t cheap. I got a four-pack of the widget cans for just under $8, and had opened the last one last night as I went to put the baby down to sleep, which meant I had to lay with her in the bed. I am not able to go horizontal without sleeping myself, so I was out like a light, in overalls and a white t-shirt, and slept like that until 4:30 this morning. My last nearly $2 can of widgetized Guinness Draught was thrown out. Looking back, I should’ve known better than to open it with bedtime coming up for the toddler, but also we should probably start pouring our good beers over top the food scraps in the 3-gallon bucket for the pigs, because I think they would like that. All they get to drink is half-muddy water most of the time. And if I can minimize my waste food down to nothing by giving it to animals, I should try to do the same with my liquids. Pig brains are wired a lot like human ones anyways, so I’m sure the beer would have a marvelous effect on their limited life, as they’re only a few weeks away from a ride down to Buckingham to become freezer stuffing. I’m gonna miss those pigs. Pork Chop and Isabel, if there is a pig heaven and it has internet, I hope you can understand my thinking behind the way we raised you and then slaughtered you and ate you. Your life could’ve been far worse, and 99% of the pigs on this earth don’t get it as good as you got it. Is that justification for what I did and how it ended? Of course not bros. But I gave you beer, did I not? I don’t do that with most humans. If you want to shoot ideas into my brain from pig heaven (if you can do that) about how to get even with us humans through me as your instrument of destruction, feel free. It’s the least I can do for you. 2 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: Well, the three of them cans plus a sip of foamy starter fluid off the last one helped me sleep a sound baby-like sleep in overalls most of the night, so I’d say the Guinness, combined with a mentally taxing employment gig, did the trick. 4 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: I was gonna go for the short and urgent, “You know that shit is tight!” response to this category, but honestly, a black can with a fucking harp on it? I don’t know, I’m not sure how tight that is. The harp is actually kind of annoying ass instrument - very bulky and hard to move but treated with heavenly reverence like it can suck a dick and fold the clean laundry all at once. Plus, you can’t really get too crazy on it; although I’m sure somebody can point out some autistic chick with crazy eyes who does insane musics on a harp somewhere in a youtube clip to prove me wrong. The cans do contain a widget though, which was such a fun word until the internet fucked it up. 2 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: Guinness, I imagine, is owned by people who own soccer teams, and make their fortunes off a million Andy Capps, who love nothing more than a nice game of darts, ogling the bartendresses big fat titties, and going home and passing out before accidentally tempting themselves to have sex with their ugly wives. Every solid brand name is built upon the loyalties of the ignorant and massive demographicals of every day losers, like me. It is the every day losers who watch cars go round in circles and fight motherfuckers over soccer allegiances and whatever the fuck ever. Sometimes my brain is not working and I'm trying to write this bullshit, but don't care. I just don't care. And to be honest, as good as I can enjoy the Guinness, it's a bunch of assholes here in America who think Guinness is the best. Even the bushy mustached dudes who are Guinness dudes kinda suck, and it's hard to be a bushy mustached dude and be an asshole. Actually, my bad, I'm wrong on that. Most bushy mustached dudes are former cops or complain about the quality of deli meats or some ridiculously semi-masculine melodramatics like that. Fuck this whole blurb. 2 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: Widgets are the limey crack pipe so far as I'm concerned. If I shut my mind's eye enough to all the douchebag type dudes who prefer Guinness beer, I can feel all old worldly and bushy mustached. But my mind's eye tends to itch a lot, and it's hard to comfortably close it that far. 3 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 2 & 3/5 STARS!
1 comment:
Harpo Marx plays a mean harp, and he doesn't talk. He's like the Terminator X of, oh, whatever. He's not like X at all. But his harp routines are dope.
Post a Comment