Wednesday, March 18, 2009
my good friend of a decade and plus, myles werntz, rolled into BCS from waco yesterday. we ran a few good laps around the old backgammon board and sipped some natty lights out on the front stoop. to be honest, even though i sported my dropkick murphys shamrock t-shirt, which i picked up at hipster heaven - hot topic - on the clearance rack, i had forgotten it was saint patrick's day. plum forgot. and i'm irish. the german werntz had to remind me.
we set out for half priced burgers and some cold pints on the backporch of ozona bar and grill later in the afternoon. a sign near the front door claimed "green beer" all day long. in 31 years of abiding this lowly planet, i have never seen or tasted a green beer. i kinda always thought it was a joke, an urban legend, like the leprachaun stuck inside of mobile. but sure enough, when i ordered a pint of miller lite, a glowing green beer came to the table.
brightly fused toxic glimmered sunlight shimmers fizzled with bubbles that stacked firm lager head like mint-tinted shaving foam. this beer was not slightly green, it was a blazening booger from the jolly green giant himself. the brightness of the green lager reminded me of the teenage mutant ninja turtles with the part 8 death of jason vorhees sizzled by green manhattan subway goo. this thing in this glass was not a beverage: it was a relic to good cartoons and bad slasher flicks. the aroma still becried my faithful miller lite. wrapped up in all that domesticity roared backyard fires at the scott-castle, wedding bells at the robertson union, the early days of learning to home church it at marky-mark douglass's kansas city casa. this green beer offered no aromatic hint of shepherd's pie and mournful dirges. the first sip took me to all those familiar places, but, wait, what's that, there on the edges? not ireland. this doesn't taste like ireland. it tastes like goo and garbage pail kids, like food coloring and easter eggs sans vinegar. this trendy little st. patty's day trick watered down my beer. here we are celebrating a saint - a good and worthy saint - and i'm growing bitter enough to upturn tables and uproot somebody's lucky clover. whose idea was this green beer anyway? it's trite. it's like putting eye shadow and rouge on a metal head, turning badasses into twisted sisters. i do not like this beer. i do not like polluting something grand and beautiful, like a tried and true miller lite, just so some bartender has a chance to get boobie-flashed by the end of the night. no, sir. get cable if you need a boobie flash, but leave my beer alone.
until next saint patrick's day, my friends:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
and say no to colored beer.