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.

Friday, April 16

Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout


AFFORDABILITY: In all my years, I don’t remember to be drinking upon a Sammy Smith Oatmeal Stout, probably because oatmeal is some bourgoisie ass shit to me. I grew up broke, with WIC checks and screaming baby sisters who had health problems, so we ate Cream of Wheat mostly, or whatever the generic brand of that was. Man WIC checks are annoying. Even today, when food stamps are so streamlined and like a debit card you can flow with, you actually have pieces of paper with a WIC check and you have to sign like nine of them for your groceries at the store and the person working the register doesn’t know how to do it and then you have to trade your half-gallon of milk in for four pints of milk and all sorts of retarded ass shit. But I’m sure in my life I’ve drank the Oatmeal Stout, especially considering how many hippie-ish girls I’ve been in long-term relationships with. And the Sammy Smith big bottles were on sale at the Kroger, who is my friend when it comes to beer at times. Shit, they were rolling with the $12 12-packs of Stella Artois there for like a month. If beer could be cheaper, I could be richer. 4 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: Oatmeal cookies are kinda gross to me, and I’d prefer not to choose them but I do enjoy them if they are sprung on me unexpectedly. My favorite cookie is the fat and soft peanut butter cookie made so well by Mennonite types using massive amounts of butter-flavored Crisco. The only thing that has ever tempted me in the past five years to turn towards a Christian god are these peanut butter cookies and seeing young teenager Mennonites hanging together at the demolition derby at the Rockingham County Fair. That was beautiful. Actually there was a young woman with crazy eyes who also seemed to be Mennonite (she was hanging with them) one time at a parade I took my daughter to. Man, I hope I don’t accidentally have a Mennonite fetish. An oatmeal beer luckily does not taste heavily of oatmeal but why the hell bother if not. And why use oatmeal? I hope there’s something ancient and pagan about it but I would expect it’s just some wacky alterna-beer bullshit that does something lame to a regular man like myself like it “dries up the fermenting process and gives it more of a wild hops taste” although really I wanted to write something stupider but could only think of wild hops, which actually would be cool, except wild hops don’t work like regular hops so you can’t really brew successfully with them and plus they’ll overtake all your other shit because they so wild. 2 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: It’s a nice label, like all Sammy Smith labels be going about theyselves. The gold wrapper around the top of the bottle is a classy touch, like you’re drinking some fancy assed $250 a bottle champagne or something, when it’s only beer. I will forever be a beer drinker because that’s my caste in life. We just got given by my bro-in-law a bunch of wine, some of it some seriously expensive wine, and I can get into that stuff, but it’s just not in my bloodstream like beer is. I mean that in both a family tree genetical type way as well as a literal day-to-day interpretation. 4 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: Samuel Smith is not a company but an overlord, a cruel yet mindful overlord who knows that industrial overlords cannot get over by the spiked whip alone. I am not sure what other beers they make other than exporting their fancy big bottles of white people beer to America for old men who have bushy mustaches and an ability to talk for far too long about deli meats, as well as for hippie girls both new to adulthood and far enough down their path in life to already have an etsy page for their homemade dresses. But I am not down with overlords, having underclass stamps on all my white blood cells. This is why I give blood as often as I can, because I am doing my part to bring down society from within, literally. The only problem is, and this is not a well-known fact, the upper crust elite type of people, they have private blood bank things set up for if they need blood, kind of like how normal people find out if somebody's kidney matches them, except it's more about the socio-economic match. But that's not really shocking. If they don't want their kids to possibly mix blood with the loser lower classes by making children together, you should expect they don't want an automatic injection of poverty and shiftlessness and ickery shot into their bodies. 1 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: Samuel Smith is like one of those open brick fireplaces with a mantle kicking mad dental work and some sort of faux finish that looks like it’s 390 years old when actually some blonde haired lady in a late model BMW spent two afternoons at $40 an hour doing it... it feels good, but isn’t very practical. Or useful. For one Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout, I could’ve had three tall cans and two fried egg sandwiches, although I would’ve had to snag a couple mayonnaise packets from the deli counter probably. 1 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 2 & 2/5 STARS!

No comments: