defrLatest Breaking News..

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, November 26, 2010

Prince Mike turns the big 4-O

When a guy turns the big 4-0, he generally does one of two things....He either wakes up and realizes that his prostate is beginning to become the size of a small squash, his hair line is heading north while his belly looks like he is 5 months preggers and his junk doesn't rise to the occasion as easily as it did back when he was full of piss and vinegar. On the other hand, some guys decide to celebrate the beginning of the end by testing every boundary that can be crossed both legal and ones frowned upon by guys like our own Officer Mr T. Prince Mike or Big Mike or Godzirra to the boys in the BC4M, was never one to shirk from danger or excitement (witness Prince and his bride as they share their first dance at their wedding reception and you get the idea that he ain't afraid of a little zest in his punch). Perhaps this little video of him as a teenager performing what was known to the professional rasslin world of the 80's as the "Hindenberg maneuver" is further proof that Prince Mike is a daredevil at heart.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the gift to the world we sometimes refer to as the Hickory High Yeti, his former band mate and mosh pitting brother, Big Audio Dynamite had secretly set up a 3 day Vegas "Hangover" style adventure that would reunite all the members of their high school glam metal band Scrotum of Death for a sordid weekend full of pedicures, happy ending massages and of course, hours of shopping. Big Audio as usual, had several connections in Sin City and had arranged for an all inclusive trip to the palatial Venetian hotel for a tequila, bourbon and fake bazongas filled excursion into the depths of debauchery. Some of the highlights of their trip included getting bass player "Backdoor" Bobby Shurekoch's nipple pierced, Big Audio picking up some new weaponry for his hometown hunt club, an affable group of Bambi killers called the Beaver Hunt Patrol, and a day long trip to a retirement community massage parlor known for its "Happy Ending Girls". After receiving the groupie discount from the "golden girls" the boys had spent the rest of their weekend wondering why they had volunteered to receive the rub and tug from a group of sex starved blue haired denture wearers but hey what happens in Vegas stays there.......or so the story goes. Back from their weekend of good clean fun, we decided to have a quick BC4M tasting session while we heard Big Audio and Prince Mike retell how they narrowly escaped arrest after they both tried to mount what appeared to their thoroughly drunken asses as seven of the hottest turd cutters they had ever laid eyes on. Despite the fact that the "girls" are actually gold plated statues, Prince Mike swears he heard at least one if not two of the girls ask him to "smack my bitch up" which he had then incorrectly translated as, "please donkey punch each and every one of our hot asses sir". After narrowly escaping the clutches of the oncoming Las Vegas vice unit, Prince and Big Audio laid low for a few hours devouring a new culinary treat that every red blooded American male (and perhaps a few carnivorous bull dykes) can appreciate, the Bacon Bra. "Fuck bacon and eggs for breakfast, said Big Audio, from now on, I'm ordering up some Bacon and Tits". As we howled in laughter at their shenanigans, we actually cracked open a couple of new beers. First up was Devil's Backbone 8 Point IPA (5.90%). This was from a growler brought back from the WC4W on their wine trip and it was hoppy and smooth with just enough kick to make your tongue curl. It was a really good. A few beers from Heavy Seas were next, the Hang Ten Weizen Doppelbock (10.0%) was a good as it had just enough sweetness to overcome the wheat flavor we usually despise. The Heavy Seas Peg Leg Imperial Stout (8.0%) was also a fine beer, as it had all the flavor characteristics of a stout but was thinner and more sessiony than a traditional stout. Finally, the Heavy Seas Winter Storm (7.5%) had a nice rich flavor to pair with its robust body and it also got a good. Wychwood Scarecrow Golden Pale Ale (4.7%) was a hollow disappointment with little flavor and alot of cereal aftertaste so it rated a so-so. The final beer of the night was rated simply cause we are sworn by our oath to actually try every beer in the world, regardless of how shitty they are, so the Michelob Irish Red (5.7%) was tasted and although it reminded us of a bad home brew, it wasn't rancid, but we won't waste any more money on another one so it got a so-so. The night had drawn to a close, but as we left, we toasted a shot of Fighting Cock to Prince Mike to celebrate being 40 years young....Here's to another 40 more.......

Friday, November 5, 2010


As we prepare to brew again, the BC4M would like to familiarize our followers with our distinguished brewing history. We have received some criticism for our harsh descriptions of some of the swill we've had ("like a combination of Lucky Charms and baby shit"). But, in our defense, we have always reserved our harshest criticism for the crap we brew ourselves at the CHC Brewery. It all started in late 2007. Bim had the equipment, and the BC4M decided to try our hand at brewing. After all, if the Unibroue people can brew something that resembles beer, a group of college educated nitwits should be able to as well. We started with a simple ale that we called Old Man Winter. We paid attention to the brewing process, and lo and behold, we brewed a so/so to good beer. "This shit's easy" exclaimed Johnny Wilder, and with that, we were officially brewers. Next up was CHC Best Bitter. This brew was trouble from the start. We were drinking while brewing, totally lost track of time, and fucked it up royally. Nonetheless, it bubbled, indicating fermentation had occured, so we bottled it up and two weeks later sampled this horrible science experiment gone wrong. Words can't adequately describe how foul this stuff was. I hesitate to even call it beer. And yet, on those rare nights when there was nothing else in the beer fridge, we took our medicine and eventually drank nearly every bottle. Undeterred, we began brewing Winter's Best, a session ale. Again, lots of drinking while brewing, and again, a mess of a beer. It looked like beer, smelled like cider, and tasted like it came straight from the Ganges River (i.e. half charred corpses mixed with raw sewage). With each failure we reviewed our mistakes (usually too much drinking while brewing) and tried again. The next beer was called CHC Blonde Ale, and, if possible, we outdid ourselves in horrible ways! This cidery shit was worse than that watermellon crap that 21st Ammendment brews. Drinking it was akin to eating the "sweet tart" in the urinal. We followed the Blonde with a Hair of my Dog Ale, so named because Bim's house is like a small SPCA with 2 dogs and 5 cats. There was visible hair in the finished product, which, in keeping form, was just awful. We wasted no time in trying another, Swamp Fire Ale. For 6 months in 2008, a fire burned in the nearby Great Dismal Swamp. Every day the sun turned gray as ash covered the skys and settled in our next beer, Swamp Fire Ale. Words can't adequately describe the taste, but a picture comes close. Time to get serious... So we rounded up the BC4M and tried a group brew of Coopers Ditch Stout. Crazy brought some moonshine that his hillbilly in-laws brewed, and we drank and brewed, brewed and drank, with the same predictable outcome. Drinking this beer is like kissing your 90 year old withered grandmother on the lips. Her breath smells like onions and garlic, her body smells of mothballs, and yet, she is your grandma after all. So you let her give you a big wet kiss, and just when you think the worst is over, she slips you the tongue. This beer was worse than that, a lot worse. At this point we probably should have just stopped, but instead, we kept on truckin! Next up was a porter. We brewed this bad boy on a cold wintry night. J Wilder was unable to make this session, as he was in Williamsburg at a gay friend's coming out party. Thus a beer name was chosen... Pole Smoker Porter. Despite the fact that all the brewers were intoxicated, this was the closest thing to beer that we'd made in a long time. Unfortunately, it had the carbonation of a week old 2 liter bottle of Coke. Drinkable, but not enjoyable. Which brings us to our latest brew, Skidmark Brown Ale. Bim was prohibited from fully participating with this brew, and yet the result was the same. The "beer" is only a few weeks old, but shows no sign of ever improving. We may enter it into the next homebrewing competition to test the judges diplomatic skills (they are hesitant to spit beers out and curse the brewers, even when they taste like Drano). And that, my dear friends, is the brewing history of the CHC Brewery. Great slogans and labels, crappy beers... maybe we're not so different from the big guys after all!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Rogue trip to Baltimore/Rehobeth Beach

While on a prison furlough, I, Bim gathered the ole lady, put on our best hippy clothes and hitchhiked up to Baltimore for some fun in this US version of an urban warzone. First stop was the Pub Dog pub. This place is cool. Lots of old woodwork, cool bartenders (Theresa and Phil), and, most importantly, surprisingly good beer. Back in the day, you could bring your dog here and drink beer with her. If your dog was a lush, you may even get lucky. Dogs are no longer allowed, but eyeing some of the patrons, you could hardly tell. Since I was alone, these beers cannot be officially rated. That said, these are the beers I tasted and my lone opinions: Imperial Dog, a very decent Imperial IPA; Brown Dog, a medium bodied brown ale, good session beer; Black Dog, their Irish stout, that was OK but light; and the Boxer, a half stout, half blueberry, that sounds awful, but tasted very good. My hats off to this place. The beers were good, they don't serve Bud Light, and there was a scarcity of douchebags in the place.

Next up was a trip over to a place called The Brewers Art. First impression on a Friday night, was that it was like a gay bar, with only 2 women in site, one of whom was with me. It was crowded with a hipster and wannabe crowd, and the bartender was visibly pissed when I ordered a flight of their self-brewed beers (as if to say, "another fucking tourist..."). I'm the one who should of been pissed after discovering that most of them tasted like shit. They brew a beer called Ressurection Ale, which is probably their best known and best tasting beer. I liked it a lot, and apparently it's available in cans, but no one I spoke to could tell me where to get some. The other beers are listed in the order of their suckiness, in a new, unofficial rating scale:
Resurrection: Tasty
Ozzie: Horse Shit
Proletary Ale: Dog Shit
Beacon: 200 yr old Bigfoot shit

And finally, it was off to Rehobeth Beach and the Dogfish Head Brewings and Eats. I felt a little out of place in Rehobeth, as I am neither gay nor lesbian. That said, who doesn't love a lesbian town with the best beer bar on the east coast? At Dog Fish Head we sampled the following beers: Quartier Rouge (9.4%) a delightful red tripel with guarana (same shit that in all those energy drinks) and grains of paradise (which I think could be a code word for some foul body fluid). Octoberfest (7.5%) was about the best of this variety I've ever had. Bed Burglar (6.6%) is a amber ale brewed with Nelson Sauvin hops, and had a weird name and was too sweet. It reminded me of my buddy Antoine Dodson. Shark Beer (4.5%) was wet-hopped water and was really awful. Odd-Ummmm (7.5%) is brewed with peaches, honey , and the other usual ingredients and was delicious. DFH Ale (9.5%) is an imperial IPA with "the body of a 60, the strength of a 90, and the hops of a 120". I really liked this one. But my favorite of the night was the Billy Budd (14%). This monster combines 120 min IPA, Indian Brown Ale, and Palo Santo Marron. It sounds like an odd mix, but the end result was fantastic. Unfortunately, none of these were available in bottles, so I guess it will mean a return trip!

We have been drinking whales recently, so stay tuned for some new posts. Until then, Cheers!