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We are still alive!!! Despite a prolonged absence, we are alive and well. It takes a lot of work to keep our fans entertained, and to be honest, we are the laziest fuckers you will ever meet. That, and the fact that we have 3 members who are retarded and only 2 who are functionally literate, and you can see how this is such a chore. We are basically no smarter than a hoard of howler monkeys

Friday, June 18, 2010

Ode to an Old Black Dog

It was a sad day in the hood, as Bim had to put down one of his dogs. To help lighten the mood, Fred purchased a sampling of dog-related beers from the Laughing Dog Brewery, and we commenced to toasting the old girl, Faye, who lived an adventurous life of butt sniffing, digging up cable TV lines and crashing through multiple different screen enclosures. While Bim rarely saw eye-to-eye with this obstinate dog, he respected her tenacity. No matter how deep he buried the TV cable, she would dig it right back up and invariably chew through it during the Superbowl, or some other important event. The first beer sampled was Laughing Dog's Devil Dog Imperial IPA (10.8%). This was a fine IPA, and the name suited our late devil dog perfectly. Well balanced and smooth, it earned a solid good. Next up was the Crotch Sniffing Bastard (6.5%) which was as unpleasant as a pungent dog fart in a poorly ventilated enclosed space. Just like Faye, this shit was just plain bad. We followed this loser with their Dogzilla Black IPA (6.9%), which was a real nice dark version of an IPA. Not all that hoppy, but very smooth and drinkable. We finished the session with a Bourbon Barrel Aged Dogfather Imperial Stout (10.85%). This beer was a winner. Just a touch of bourbon, with all the other goodness that we've come to love in rich stouts. It too was a solid good. With the tastings over, we shared dog stories including one from Bim's past, when he owned a beagle named The Chief. Chief was a dog with attitude. His idea of fun was the equivalent of a wrestling match... something we called the slap fight. One would try to slap The Chief across the snout, while he attempted to take your hand off with his snarling fangs. Sounds brutal, but he loved it. The Chief had attitude. After one long night of drinking, Bim staggered into his parents home, and, too lazy to walk the 20 feet to his own bed, crashed on the couch. Chief apparently needed to go out, but Bim, too tired to move, would not budge from the couch. As Bim described it, "It was minutes after this interaction that I awoke to a horrible foul smell, only to find Chief's dog butt inches from my face as he was dropping a deuce on the pillow on which my head rested. For a brief instant our eyes connected, and I swear I could see him grinning at me!" RIP Faye, Chief, Buxton, Cosmo, and all you other dogs who've made our lives richer with your companionship.