Acknowledgements: This one goes out to my man Cal Salami, my momma's baby daddy, B-Ray, and all the hood rats who hang out in apartment B456. You guys rock! I also want to thank my craft crazies, and the guys who invented the Torpedo. Dry hopping hasn't been the same since 1998.
We try to be good craft crazies and inform people that most beer is bad, but it's hard to reach everyone. Sometimes it's better to go to the store and judge a plebeian. We've all been there: loitering at Binny's, flirting with the 6 working the cashier, agonizing over which IPA to buy while a stream of people come in, choose something, and go off on their merry way. Eventually you grab two bottles of the most bitter and hoppy beer, noticing and judging what everyone else has selected. Sometimes you wonder if Sherlock Holmes even cares how you look in those spanks.
Chapter 1: A Tale of Two (D)IPAs
"A very sad group of neckbeards here today, Watson." My craft comrade and partner, Sherlock Holmes, remarked to me one evening while we were at Binny's.
Cynical but true, I nodded in agreement as I watched a young couple pass over a case of YingLing in favor of a Magic Hat variety pack.
Holmes, anticipating my comment, jumped in: "Indeed. It's a double whammy for that poor gent. For there is no magic in that Magic Hat bottle, and after pouring that plebeian swill there certainly won't be any magic in the bedroom tonight."
"Ugghh. Holmes, I wish you would just stare at my ass like a normal person."
Without flinching, Holmes continued: "Pondering someone's beer purchase at Binny's is only natural. I have a BeerAdvocate account, you know. And I love IPAs."
"How do you know he won't get any tonight?" I inquired.
"Oh, Watson, this is easier than fitting my lubed nob in your rectum. When they walked into Binny's, the young lady was eyeing the Cerra Nevardo Celebration IPA. She then made eye contact with her oblivious boyfriend. As she got closer to the Celebration IPA, you could see her breasts swelling up, which is a clear sign that she has that craft itch. She even opened the refrigerator door containing this wet hopped whale -- only to see her boyfriend approach that Magic Hat swill. Anyone who wasn't a foolish halfwit would notice that she rolled her eyes, and proceeded to pull out her phone to text Kara about how stupid her boyfriend is."
"That's amazing! You were able to gather all that in just a few seconds?" I stated, quite impressed.
"My dear Watson, anyone can harness the power of observation."
“You are right,” I mumbled. “The explanation is always so simple, and yet I am amazed at your powers of deduction. Tells me about that gentleman that just entered Binny's, that one guy over there."
"That rotund and unshaven gentleman over there?" Holmes said, with some skepticism in his inflection. "What do you deduce?"
Up to the challenge, I cleared my throat: "Well, it appears he is walking over to the refrigerator section. I'm guessing he wants a beer." Just as I made my comment, the gentleman walked over to the refrigerator. "He probably wants a Bud Platinum," I mused.
Sherlock looked bored, as he checked his watch. "NO, Watson, you fucking idiot. He is clearly a slave to Miller. Look at him reaching for that Miller High Life."
I stammered..."How on earth could you tell?"
Sherlock groaned. "Look, Watson, I really want to have you tonight. But your ignorance is not a turn on, okay. It's pretty obvious, the guy is wearing a Coors Light T-Shirt."
I double-checked. “That’s cheating! You can’t just look at things that are obvious.”
“I’m hurt Watson.” Holmes said in defense. “Sometimes the simplest solution is the obvious solution. It's like trying to find the right glass for Heady Topper. It says drink it out of the can.”
"Okay," I said, "but how about that guy over there." I gestured my head towards a gentleman wearing a shirt that said, DIPA HER? I HARDLY KNOW HER.
Sherlock paused for a minute...he scratched his head. "I have a hypothesis. A theory. A hunch. A clue, if you will. An idea.
I stood for a minute waiting. "Well...go on..."
Sherlock nodded. “Certainly. That man is clearly a gentleman sliding towards the pitiable state of alcoholism brought on by his recently failed marriage.”
“Amazing! Failed marriage?!” I exclaimed, “How did you deduce that from a simple witty catch phrase on a shirt?”
Sherlock smiled. "It's obvious, really. The man came in with his head down and shoulders slumped, which suggests that he has a beer blog. And obviously, anyone with a beer blog is probably in a sad state to begin with."
"Amazing," I mumbled.
"Indeed," Sherlock continued, "and it is clear that this novelty T-Shirt came from some home brew supply shop. You can tell because of the shoddy marksmanship and generic nature of the T-shirt. And of course, anyone that home brews probably also spends time fishing, or at least out in the garage away from their wife. It was, of course, unclear to me if this gentleman has kids...but obviously he doesn't. He hasn't packed on enough weight. More so, you can see the tan line where his wedding ring is. From this we can deduce that he likes to take his ring off, at least when shopping at Binny's. He's probably not just shopping for beer, but shopping for a craft crazy lady. Anyone brazen enough to try to pick up a girl at Binny's probably doesn't have kids. But the final hunch that he doesn't have kids is that he has a small scar above his wrist."
I looked at Sherlock, confused. "How does a small scar above his wrist prove that he doesn't have kids?"
Sherlock just stared at me, with those big, sexy, judgmental eyes. "Watson...do you really want to know the mysteries of the universe? Do you really want to know why Pumpkin beers get released in July? Or why Lambics don't just have to be brewed in Belgium, or why the Macaroni Man likes to drop hot loads of semen on the faces of young female escorts? Or would you rather buy some YingLing and head home and let me take you from behind?"
I smiled and said, "Let's retired to Baker Street."
Submitted October 17, 2014 at 11:07AM by TakesJonToKnowJuan http://ift.tt/1rhxXWR beercirclejerk
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