Barnside Brewing Co. “Dhudh Soda” Cream Ale 🍻 🍺🍺🍺/5 George Orwell’s classic, Nineteen Eighty-Four, written in 1948 and published the following year, prophesied a dystopian future in which rebellious thoughts become impossible to express. History, in this future, is rewritten by the state daily to serve the present agenda. Privacy, independent memory, and genuine human connection are treated as threats. Yet the citizenry, broken in spirit and void of hope, learn to love the state’s boot on their face. Fortunately, this Kim Jong Un wet dream of a future did not materialise in 1984. I was a young boy then, left to ponder what the world forty-two years forward might actually look like. Would we walk around with supercomputers in our pockets? Would there be artificial intelligence, or a way to access information from around the world through some sort of “inter-web”? Would Donald Trump be president? Could we even see flying cars? 🤔 My eight-year-old self pondered these possibilities for hours, often while sipping a fizzing dhudh soda—one part cream soda, one part milk. Hmmm… could it? “Nah, that’s all crazy shite.” Today I sip a grown-up Dudh Soda and revel in how wrong I was. The pour is a warm coral-pink with a soft white head, the aroma sweet and faintly creamy with a hint of citrus. On the tongue it is smooth, lightly fizzy, and gently sweet—more nostalgic nod than exact replica—finishing clean. The best part, enjoyed in a frosty mug, chilled colder than the Cold War. 🍺🍺🍺/5 October 17th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 Review 200

Longwood Brewery "Full Patch" Pumpkin Ale 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 "Cheater cheater, pumpkin eater", the children’s expression goes. But are cheaters truly avid consumers of pumpkins? Unlike liars, who actually do strut around with their pants inconspicuously ablaze, pumpkin eaters may be victims of an unfair stereotype. A stereotype that has been promoted by powerful three-letter agencies and propagated onto children's playgrounds. Why would they do this? Yes, why indeed. The true victims of this government psyop are the innocent pumpkin eaters who, through no wrongdoing of their own, are grouped together with the dregs of society. Have you not enjoyed a slice of pumpkin pie? Was it wrong to do so? Yet, for that innocent indulgence you and everyone at your Thanksgiving table are now labeled a misfit. Sure, the pervy Unc that ate two slices of pie all the while lasciviously slurring, "mmm so good", deserves the title and more. But is collective punishment ever justified? I ponder this as I sip my cup, filled with a very boozy pumpkin ale. It pours a deep amber with a soft tan head, the aroma mixing roasted pumpkin, warm spice and a touch of toffee. The taste follows with real gourd character rather than pure pie spice, finishing dry, slightly bitter and distinctly warming at 9%. Just don't give one to that pervy Unc. 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 October 10th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 Review 199

Patina Brewing Marzen 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍻 ~ 3.5/5 In October 1810, Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria married Princess Therese. Five days of festivities followed, and the makings of Oktoberfest were born! Prost! Today we drink in October because we simply like an excuse to drink in the heart of autumn? No one knows of Ludwig or how to find Bavaria on an unmarked map. Or Rhode Island, for that matter. Now ask yourself, do origins really matter? The truth is, everything is made up. Traditions you hold dear and believe to be ancient could be only decades old. The American Christmas alternative, Kwanzaa, was created by a US professor in 1966, a black power activist, to connect African Americans to their African roots. Is it celebrated in Africa? No! It is simply modern America's Temu Christmas. Just make up your desired nonsense; like renamed Vancouver streets written in a modified Wingdings font. If it sticks around for a generation, 20 years, that generation believes it has always been around, and they then teach it to their kids. All nonsense. So, drink because of the glowing wonderment of the joy it brings, not for traditions. I have told my children this revelation has existed in our family for centuries. Even though I made it up 10 minutes ago, while buzzed. And in my cup, an Oktoberfest special, from the heart of Bavaria, found somewhere between Moscow, Halifax and Cairo. It is amber, lagered in the Munich manner, and smells of pleasant sweetness. The malt is soft and finishes creamy. A cool-weather beer that does not need a prince, a princess, or a map. 🍺🍺🍺🍻 ~ 3.5/5 October 3rd, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺- 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 Review 198

Small Gods Brewing "Blink" Milk Chocolate Coconut Porter 🍻 Author Malcolm Gladwell's book "Blink" outlined the uncanny abilities of experts who had honed their instincts so well that they could assess situations instantly. They demonstrated virtual spidey senses. The experts, however, often didn't fully understand how they knew what they did, but they simply knew. It was knowing without the untimely lag and burden of purposeful thinking. At the other end of the spectrum: too much information, too much thinking led to mental paralysis-by-analysis. We witness this everywhere; at Starbucks for one, frazzled customers stare at the drink menu as a mouth-breathing blue-hair barista patiently looks on in a blank meditative state. This repeats, despite the menu consisting of a dozen combinations of coffee and milk; bloody pick one at random and you'll be fine. So, what if too much thinking is indeed a curse that provides no real inspiration? Perhaps our best ideas already exist, floating in the ether around us, just waiting for us to have a clear enough mind to receive them? So, go, receive them already! To assist in clearing the landing strip of your mind, this chocolate porter does not ask you to choose. Mahogany pour, tan head, milk chocolate and roast on the nose, coconut hanging back like a thought you almost had. Creamy sip, cocoa first, a polite hint of coconut, short sweet finish. Six percent. The first two seconds tell the story; the rest of the glass just nods. 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 September 26th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺- 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 Review 197

Farm Country Brewing "Titan" Strong Lager 🍻 🍺🍺🍺 🍻 ~ 3.5 / 5 For ten years a war was waged between the elder Titans, led by Cronus, and the younger Olympians, led by Zeus. The Titanomachy ended with most of the Titans cast down into Tartarus — and Atlas sentenced to hold up the sky. It isn’t just Greek mythology. It is the allegory of the new replacing the old. The old order: vast, elemental, and certain it would last. The winners call it destiny. The losers call it an outrage. But is it? This is the quiet machinery of a life. You begin as the student — all hunger, no path. Then someone asks you to explain the path, and you become the teacher. Later the explanations shorten as the lessons settle in the bones. That is mastery. Then the young arrive already fluent. For a season you are the dinosaur — still large, still elemental, and slightly in the way of the new furniture. Tartarus is not always a pit. Sometimes it is simply the spare room no one visits. Reverence, when it comes, is usually late — if it arrives at all. Roles are assignments, not verdicts. The student is not lesser than the master; he is only earlier, waiting to relieve someone of their post. I drink to those still holding something up — as I hold up this glass: clear deep gold, modest white head, lively carbonation. Sweet malt and light caramel on the nose; bready honey on the tongue; a late, clean bitterness and a warmth that does not shout its 9.5%. It drinks smoother than the number. That is both its charm and its warning. A Titan who has learned not to boast. 🍺🍺🍺 🍻 ~ 3.5 / 5 September 19th, 2026 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 Review 196

Sapporo Brewing Dark Lager 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 The no man's land of summer; technically not autumn yet we are beyond the Labor Day marker that signals the change. Pumpkin spice products are now pushed without shame and the sun sets earlier than it should. With it, the darkness rises! There is a feeling of dread, loss, even regret for not rejoicing in the light while it was plentiful. But the darkness is not all bad. It brings with it greater moments of secluded contemplation. Could a hearty stew taste as satisfying on a midsummer night as it does in October? We need the darkness. Some even thrive in it. Yet others own it. "Oh, you think darkness is your ally. But you merely adopted the dark; I was born in it, moulded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but BLINDING! The shadows betray you, because they belong to me!" — Bane, The Dark Knight Rises. And to celebrate the rising darkness: a dark lager by Sapporo. This is not a pumpkin beer. This is not a stout trying to win an argument. This is darkness that still knows how to finish clean with the scent of low roast, coffee, toast, a little chocolate. On the tongue: cocoa, light coffee, caramel, and a polite bitter sweetness. Not the most complex black lager on earth. But it rose... from the darkness. 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 September 12th, 2026 My 21st 5️⃣!!! 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 195

Steamworks Brewing Kölsch Lagered Ale 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 Humans are obsessed with the search for perfection: the perfect physique, perfect credit, the perfect outfit, the perfect meal, and of course, the perfect internet meme. An unending pursuit. Yet, true perfection teases you, flirts with you, and stays just beyond your grasp. But there are rare days when smaller moments line up without blemish and coalesce into “the perfect day.” A restful night. An invigorating workout. A superb cup of coffee with a good friend. An afternoon outside with the people who actually matter. Then a beer in the grass, mountains behind you, with the sky smiling upon you. Ah yes — today is a great day to be alive. Today, is a great day to beer! I drink to the days that don’t need a second draft. And in my cup: Steamworks Kölsch Lagered Ale. Fermented like an ale, put to bed like a lager — heat, then patience — until it settles into pale gold and a dry, bready snap. Biscuit. A little hay. Soft citrus that doesn’t announce itself. Light, clean, finished. The last unblemished piece the day had been assembling all along. 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 September 5th, 2026 My 20th 5️⃣ 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 194

Temporal Artisan Ales 🍺🍺🍺/ 5 “Sundrift” West Coast Farm House Ale 🍻 The unchecked human mind is a lot like a poorly trained dog. It wants attention. It jumps at the smallest noise. Try to reason with it and it just stares at you, drooling, confused. The problem is we’ve been told we are that dog. That every thought it throws at us is who we are. Wrong. The mind is a temporal search engine. It keeps dragging you into a subjectively remembered past or an imaginary future. Like the constant reminder of second grade when you called the teacher “mom” and the whole class laughed. Or some near-apocalyptic Tuesday where every fear shows up on time and fully dressed. You aren’t your mind. You’re the owner. Watch it play. When it behaves, give it a pat. When it doesn’t, ignore it and keep watching. “You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” — Marcus Aurelius I raise my glass to the here-and-now! And in my cup, a beer that pours hazy gold with a soft white head. Looks like late light. West Coast farmhouse — rustic yeast, dry snap, hops that feel like citrus and a little pine instead of a Belgian lecture. The mind may try to leave. Let it. The beer stays. 🍺🍺🍺/ 5 August 29th, 2026 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺– 😍 193

Beere Brewing “Show & Tell” Double Dry Hopped IPA 🍻 🍺🍺/5 Back to school ads have begun, subtly reminding the populace that it is illegal not to send your child to school. A good thing too, after all, where would society be if our next generation was not trained in such critical skills as coloring totem poles and understanding that diversity is, without question, a strength? Modern schools were never intended to enlighten young souls. Quite the opposite. They were initially designed to produce factory workers. Training people at a young age to respond to ringing bells as signals to form orderly rows, only to be marched by their manager to their work stations, at which time attendance was taken prior to starting the day. It was all so sinisterly efficient! Yet the social programming didn’t end there. The youngest were encouraged to participate in a diabolical exercise of “Show & Tell.” Not to be confused with the Catholic Priest children’s game of “Show & Don’t Tell.” In the former, a defenseless little Timmy was plucked from the safety of the herd, isolated and then told to, “Show us what you did and tell us everything!” What they failed to remind Timmy of was his right to remain silent. Nobody cared about Timmy’s bloody Happy Meal toy! Their only goal: to train the masses to divulge information, thereby handing the state the very rope that will later be used to hang them with. Show them nothing Timmy, and tell them even less — they, my child, are not on your side! I drink to deprogramming your mind! And, to assist us in this pursuit, a Dry Hopped IPA, a murky golden color, appearing like a Hazy without the citrus burst and charm. Instead, it is too bitter, with an unpleasant sharpness sitting on your tongue. Surprisingly void of flavor and scent. Not much worthy of showing or telling. 🍺🍺 / 5 August 22nd, 2026 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 192

Yellow Dog Brewing “Play Date” White Sour | Apricot & Guava 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 The children’s “play date”, a relatively recent invention, popularized in the 2000s by the parents of Millennials. Gen Xers who came before them knew nothing of the sort. Theirs was a childhood of actual freedom — leave the house after breakfast, no cell phones, no AirTags, no constant parental tracking. Standing orders were simple: be home before dinner or before dark, whichever came first. Millennials, by contrast, grew up under closer supervision like prison inmates, every hour accounted for. (Jeffrey Epstein remains the one glaring exception for the comparison.) It is therefore no great surprise that Millennials never quite developed the same self-reliant, “get it done” attitude their vastly superior predecessors exude. I personally saw the warning signs a decade earlier. The mass adoption of men’s skinny jeans by Millennials was the first blaring alarm that something had gone sideways. The train wreck continued when these men, now older, began wearing shortened suit pants specifically designed to flaunt their anklet socks. 🤭 No, you will never be forgiven! I drink to Millennial men… I have some magic beans to sell you! And to wash those beans down: a white sour from Yellow Dog. Like the generation in question, it’s a fruity one. Smooth, not too tart nor too fruity — an enjoyable one that makes you crave another the second you hit the sad end of the glass. It is a fun summer BBQ beer to drink with friends while discussing why Epstein didn’t kill himself. 🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 August 15th, 2026 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 191

Small Gods Brewing “Think Twice” Double Hazy IPA 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 It is often said, “think twice before you speak”: reconsider what you mean, weigh the potential consequences of every utterance, and proceed with caution. Yuck — sterile, passionless communication, the kind expected from a eunuch speaking to a teller during a driver’s licence renewal. Instead, project what is on your mind. Blurt it out like a dam bursting with relief. Let the unfiltered words flow, speak from the heart, and punctuate it with the instinct that rose from your gut. Some will be offended, others will be shocked, and a few around you may reel in discomfort; but deep down they will drip with envy as they witness your fire and intensity take hold of them. Roar and be heard. Have your second thought occur only after your first has left your tongue and is already ringing in their ears. And do so because you are a god, and gods do not grovel or ask, “maybe I kind of shouldn’t have said that, maybe right?” I drink to unapologetically saying what you mean! In my cup sits a lovely Double Hazy IPA — double in flavour, double in sweetness, and at 8% double in buzz — yet never thinking twice. She is a strong one and she makes you like her, though sweeter than she needs to be given her looks and taste. Juicy waves of passionfruit, guava and bright citrus roll across a soft, pillowy body and keep evolving with every sip. 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 August 8th, 2026 🍺 – ☹️ 🍺🍺 – 😕 🍺🍺🍺 – 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 – 😍 190

Brassneck Brewing “Old Money” Traditional English Mild The ultra-wealthy of the past were associated with an air of refinement, effortlessly aura-maxxing through their status and privilege. In contrast, today’s billionaires pride themselves on looking approachable, choosing to forgo the bespoke Italian suits, fur coats, and luxury monocles. Instead, they parade themselves in hoodies, Crocs, and matted bed-head. Don’t believe for a second that their slobbiness is genuine. They have carefully crafted this public image with an army of stylists to manufacture an “I’m one of you” look. Are you though? For some, like Mark Zuckerberg—who is clearly a lizard 🦎 person attempting to blend in—the ruse is necessary. But what of Bill Gates, the vaccine-obsessed pretend scientist? Instead of a fine suit sculpting his physique, Bill opts to shamelessly flaunt his ample man-boobs in a collection of unflattering cardigans rescued from the discount bin at Target. Perhaps this too is a sign of humility, sending a message that although I can afford liposuction or the world’s most expensive sports bra, “I am one of you… just look at these.” Today we drink to forget man-boobs of all varieties. And in my cup, a cousin of an English brown ale. Not my favorite style, but this English Mild softens the expected bitterness. The color is a rich mahogany. It goes down smooth with a pleasant tang and an almost floral finish. Good enough to ask the butler to bring me another. 🍺🍺🍺/5 August 1st, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🧐 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 189

Smugglers Trail Brewing "Bread Winner" Euro Pilsner 🍻 Walter White sat at his kitchen table on the morning of his 50th birthday. Half a century of well intentioned decisions had brought him to that point. Despite being blessed with superior intelligence, life had delivered him a near endless string of disappointments and more hardships than seemed fair for an otherwise "good" man. His predicament: financially distressed, a soon-to-be new father at 50, a disabled teen son to care for, all the while a cancerous mass bubbled in his lungs. But worst of all, a plate of limp veggie bacon stared up at him mockingly as he ruminated. That one final element emasculated him in ways no estrogen soaked soya product should ever be allowed to. Did he break? He did, but he was not broken. Never underestimate the lengths a man will go to when tasked to be the family's breadwinner! I drink to breadwinners not breadlosers. In my cup, a bright gold pour with soft white foam that sits on top like a pizza on a roof. A clean, bready nose and a taste crisp and smooth with biscuity malt, light rye character, and a gentle herbal bitterness that finishes clean. Heisenberg would approve. 🍺🍺🍺🍻 ~ 3.5/5 July 25th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 188

Eye Brewing "Jasper" Hazy IPA 🍻 The garden of Eden explained: The Tree of Life represents the human body — its branches, the neurons of the brain feeding into the trunk as our spinal column. The tree’s roots are our body's nerves. The garden’s infamous serpent? That’s Kundalini energy — the potential energy we all carry at the base of the spine; represented for millennia as a coiled snake resting at our lower back. Adam and Eve represent harmony arising from balance while in the garden: Yin and Yang, Alpha and Omega, Shiva and Shakti — male and female polarity unified. And what of the forbidden fruit? That’s your third eye. Tasting the apple is a metaphor for closing it. With that action, the bliss of the Garden vanishes, and you fall into Maya — the grand illusion. Welcome … to the Matrix. As Morpheus said: ‘The Matrix is a system, Neo. That system is our enemy.’ Even though I know this beer is an illusion, it is my dharma, duty, to drink it… purpose is everything within the Matrix. A radiant hazy golden pour with a thick, pillowy head that clings like neural pathways. Explosive ripe peach and sweet orange zest lead the way, followed by juicy tropical notes and a smooth, clean finish. Creamy mouthfeel, gentle carbonation, and just the right balance of hop bitterness. It doesn’t just refresh the body — it stirs the subtle energies within. 🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 July 18th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 187

Trading Post Brewing "Dry Hopped Pale Ale" 🍻 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 Home: the soggy coastal rainforest, one of the dampest ecosystems on Earth. Known for being water-logged most of the year, the rainfall eventually relents and leaves on its annual summer vacation. The reprieve is temporary. In just a few weeks the rain will return, well-rested and committed to complete and utter saturation. Yet we’re told we must conserve water? 🤔 Rationing it like the last case of Ozempic in a fat camp, desperately needed to stave off an uprising of the chubby. The overlords even forbid watering lawns from May to October. When else would we need to?! This isn’t about shortages. It’s about control! So water your lawn. Set the timers. Quench that grass under the cover of darkness if you must. Let the greenery flourish and have your lawn announce to the world that you are, and will always remain… Ungovernable!!! In my cup: a golden-amber pour with a solid white head that fights the summer air. Bright citrus and pine on the nose, crisp hop bitterness balanced by just enough malt. It finishes dry and refreshing — a proper summer rebellion in a can. 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 July 11th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 186

POCO Brothers Brewing "New Zealand" Hazy IPA 🍻 Last week's review venerating Sri Jesus Bhagwan, aka Hindu Jesus, definitely hit a nerve. All week I was inundated with hate mail and protests outside my home. To be clear, this is not new to me and simply comes with the territory of authoring a fiery, world-renowned beer review. But the outrage this time was not by the blue-haired zealots, the usual bane of my existence. No. My Christian brethren were the roaring angry voice. Letters filled with such diabolical statements as, "I'm praying for your soul," filled my inbox — clearly threatening my personal safety. Prayer groups formed outside my house. Each protestor armed with invitations to attend their Church. How am I to fight such forms of aggression? Sure, the occasional protestor cried out at me to, "repent or burn in hell." Threats of arson perhaps? Alas, even that statement seemed to originate from a place of love. I am left with one option: to forgive them. It is what Hindu Jesus would have wanted me to do. And what better way to forgive than to share a cold, hazy IPA. This pours a beautiful hazy golden-orange with a thick, rocky white head that clings to the glass like a repentant sinner. Aroma: Big tropical punch — mango, citrus lime, and white wine. There's a gentle sweetness that keeps you saying Hallelujah! 🍺🍺🍺🍺 / 5 July 4th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 185

Brassneck Brewing "Fruitless Journey" Hazy IPA 🍻 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 “By their fruit you will recognize them.” — Sri Jesus Bhagwan It really is that simple. Measure the value of events, places, and especially people by the fruit they bear. Are the people around you abundant? Do their branches drip with joy, laughter, health, and genuine wealth? Does the fruit of their actions nourish those around them, uplift them, make them feel glorious? Judge people not by their faults, blemishes, or past chapters — but by the sweetness of the fruit they’re sharing today. Trees that drop rotten fruit which curses the ground it lands on tell you everything you need to know about the tree they came from. Except the ones that bear peaches. Those are perverts. And pear trees? Opportunistic scum. I drink to Hindu Jesus! May the Lord turn water into beer on our journey, and may he bless our fruit with divinity. The Lord hath given me a nice hazy golden with a thick, lasting head. Aroma is bright citrus — grapefruit and lemon zest — with some tropical hints of passionfruit and mango underneath, plus a touch of earthy hops. The Lord works in mysterious ways. 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 June 27, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 184

Farm Country Brewing "Put Me In" Kölsch 🍻 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 “Put me in, Coach” — a cry soaked in raw desire and enthusiasm. Training and simulations can only take you so far. To truly master your craft, you must step onto the field and prove yourself in the heat of battle. Many who get the nod will rise to the occasion. Others will fall despite their most Herculean efforts. But most will simply never even ask — they let the moment pass them by. Paralyzing the many is the belief that safety is preferable to failure. Is it though? “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same… Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!” — Rudyard Kipling I drink to the brave who rise. As with them this Kölsch answers the call. Golden pour with a thick rocky head. Clean bready malt, subtle fruity sweetness, gentle floral hops. Crisp, refreshing, and perfectly balanced with a snappy dry finish. Good for celebrating victory or nursing the pain of defeat. 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 June 20, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 182

Dead Frog Brewing "Rocket Pop" Sour 🍻 🍺🍺 / 5 Don't judge a book by its cover, the saying goes. But what else are you to judge it by? Perhaps use other people's opinion of the book? The response from the diversity acolytes would be further outrage: "You can't trust opinions, some of those come from Trump supporters who, you know, hate books with dark covers... All books are equal!" The reality: our mental machinery was designed to look for signals and then fill in the blanks. Picture yourself walking down the street and you see a clown 🤡 with a machete 🔪 — perhaps the book should be judged by its cover. Taking time to understand his intentions may not yield the most fruitful of outcomes. Use signals and judge. It is the way nature intended; beauty is evolution signaling that a potential mate doesn't have parasites. But remember signals can also be weaponized. Most notably, the infernal music of the ice cream truck: a weaponized signal deployed against parents. My counter measure: I told my children that the ice cream truck's music was a signal that he was out of ice cream. 🤭 I drink to books judged by their covers; they probably suck. In my glass tonight: a hazy pint with a pleasant tartness for a sour, but I was lost in the medley of artificial fruit flavors — raspberry, cherry, lime. It tasted like those red-white-and-blue firecracker popsicles the ice cream man would lure children to his van with. The signal says run! 🍺🍺 / 5 June 13th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 182

Brassneck Brewing "Wingman" West Coast Pale Ale 🍻 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 Bruce Wayne — a man powered by rage since childhood — ditched his life of luxury to brood in near solitude in the lonely caverns beneath Wayne Manor. But even the Dark Knight wasn’t truly alone. Robin, the Boy Wonder — part student, part comrade — watched his mentor’s back. Alfred, his loyal butler, nursed his wounds and protected him from being consumed by the darkness of his alter ego. And the brilliant Lucius Fox, provider of an endless supply of critical gadgetry that kept Batman alive. Who is any hero without their wingman? Sherlock without Watson, Han without Chewbacca, Kirk without Spock, SpongeBob without Patrick, and of course… Maverick without Goose! Sure, Goose dies in a fiery crash… but in his final moment, he reached forward and saved the life of his lead pilot. So here’s to wingmen — may we share the glory and never fly solo again. And in my cup tonight: a crisp golden-amber West Coast Pale Ale with a thick rocky head, bright citrus, and piney hop bitterness that cuts clean and dry. The perfect reliable co-pilot, worthy of a cheers with your wingman. 🍺🍺🍺 / 5 June 6th, 2026 🍺 - ☹️ 🍺🍺 - 😕 🍺🍺🍺 - 🙂 🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😀 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 - 😍 181