Irish Eyes are Smiling

The smell of spring was in the air as we bid a fond adieu (which according to Crazy Ken is either Lithuanian or Portuguese for "fuck you") to the cold winter by participating in that most red-blooded and patriotic of American holidays, St. Patrick's Day. What says warm weather is almost here more than watching our fellow countrymen dressing up in garish spandex and silk pantaloons, coloring both their hair as well as their cheap ass Coors and Bud Light's a puke inducing shade of kelly green while pretending to like corned beef and cabbage more than this sacred calender event that according to noted BC4M historian Bim somehow always manages to fall on March 17th. One bonus to this festive occasion where we are deluged with images of moss covered blarney stones,four leaf clovers and rainbow greeting cards is that it does give every guy over the age of say twenty-five a free pass to eat all the bowls of Lucky Charms he wants. St Patrick's Day is also however, uniquely special to Fred as his feisty bride, a half-Irish brunette fully loaded pistol by the name of Darby O'Hooterhan had in fact come into the world a'kickin and knocking back shots of Jameson's one blustery Saint Patty's morn a "couple o" years back. Fred recalled the time back when as a young schoolboy known throughout academia for his ability to "mack" on slightly older "ladies" that he had been instantly smitten and shot through the heart by a bright eyed vixen one Friday afternoon while watching a commercial for that most original Irish treat, the Shamrock Shake. Little Miss Darby was a former child actress that had made her impression that day on young Fred that caused him to spend his entire adolescence chasing after her like a beagle hound runnin' rabbits. She had always managed to stay a step ahead of our Flintstonian idiot savant until one momentous day back in August of '85 somewhere on the outskirts of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Darby, a classically trained ballerina, was one of the sensational new stars of the hit TV show featuring the latest in pop music and dancing , Solid Gold. Fred, in town to judge the 44th annual Asses and Elbows "Naked Beer Pulling" tournament had drunkenly accepted a dare to join his future bride onstage and had subsequently shocked the live studio audience with a sultry and suggestive salsa routine that caused the producers to cut to a Maypax commercial to prevent receiving a FCC fine for indecency. The two have been inseparable ever since, and Fred's fledgling dance career would still be ongoing if it wasn't for a torn scrotum tendon he suffered while performing the dreaded "banana split" maneuver at a Des Moines area bachelorette party while entertaining a few lady farmers from an area 4H club called, "The Shuck Yous". To celebrate Darby's birthday, the girls and boys of the hood gathered at Johnny Wilder's to share in traditional Irish fare such as salsa and chips, pretzel rods and crab dip. The BC4M decided there was no better way to honor our beloved and energy filled Irish princess than to rate a few beers with her in attendance. We began to gather around the table when out of the windswept night air came Bim, our resident neurosurgeon dressed up as his famous alter-ego, naughty leprechaun Dr. Seamus McKochenbawls, in full regalia looking ready and certainly willing to perform free hernia exams. Other than D-Rail, who is always looking for any variety of ball frisking, we declined the offer and were instead thankful he had brought all 4 varieties of Guinness currently available. First up were both the Guinness Draught Bottle (4.2%) and Guinness Draught Can (4.2%). Now, we realize that every flannel wearing mush-mouth down in Possum Holler thinks that pounding a case of these while singing "O' Danny Boy" with his potted meat slurping cousins is what "real" Irish folk do on St Pat's. Most Americans also think drinking these beers is like chocking down "motor oil" without knowing they have about as much liquor in them as virgin coochberry daiquiris. The taste of both were thin and watery, and having tasted several great stouts, we were completely disappointed in both of these and gave them each a so-so. Next was a Guinness Imported Extra Stout (6.0%) which fared slightly better but had a distinctively charred finish that was quite unique. "Tastes like bilge runoff from a trash barge" said our fearless pirate hunter Tank. Akin to a weak black IPA, this one was still decent so it got a good. Guinness Foreign Extra Stout (7.5%) was shared next while we rocked out to a video of an Irish drinking song starring our very own sidewalk surfing Johnny Wilder, "Drunken Lullabies". This version is supposedly the Guinness you get when you're across the "pond", and it tastes much better than the decidedly watery versions found in both the bottle and can. A very subtle hint of delicious sour was left on your tongue as you drank it and so it rated a good. Next was a Schlafly Irish Style Extra Stout (8.0%). Pouring out with an explosive head like a caramel colored volcano, this one is very tasty combining a rich malty base with a slightly powerful alcohol punch. A solid good, we then tried a Carlow Brewing O'Hara's Irish Red (4.3%). About the only thing they got right with this one was the color, as it tasted like they had steeped the beer with a used tampon from a Bolivian street walker that had just finished servicing half of the Chinese army. "That shit is awful" said Fred, who like the rest of us , poured this swill out as quick as we could. We moved on to a Harp Lager (5.0%), the true partner to an authentic "black and tan". For all of you yahoo's that mix Guinness with Bass, just remember, thats mixing Irish and English, which isn't a good thing. Upon opening, we were greeted with a barnyard aroma that Crazy Ken described as, "an albino skunk that just pissed on my tongue and left me hanging". "All of the funk, none of the flavor" added Wilder as we agreed that while not quite as bad as the O'Hara's, it was barely drinkable and only rated a so-so. Next was a Clipper City Heavy Seas Aarsh! (7.0%), another red ale that this time actually used actual beer ingredients. Smooth and slightly malty, Snake said, "I could sure drink this shit all day". Much better than the previous two beers, this one was another solid good, so we continued with a Moylan's NorCal IPA (6.9%). The BC4M loves west coast IPA's, but this one seemed to hail from the west coast of Indonesia cause it was as dry as a post menopausal stripper and not hoppy at all. Hoping to cure our tongues of dehydration, we then poured a Mendocino Imperial IPA (8.0%). "This crap is about as Irish as a chorizo and jalapeno quesadilla" said the half Irish, half Welsh and half Scottish Snake as we forged ahead and were rewarded with yet another asstastic masterpiece. "Just fucking awful", said Bim, as yet another beer that while cheap as fuck and readily available still received the dreaded sucks rating. No flavors, no hops, and nothing but a syrupy mess was all we found in this supposed "imperial" IPA. The final beer of the night was a Ska Brewing Decadent Imperial IPA (10.0%). This one also has nothing to do with being Irish, although the label does features a picture of the BC4M's newest workout warrior, Crazy Ken who has dramatically lost over 50 pounds in the the last 2 weeks by drinking nothing but cabbage juice and papaya root cocktails and doing "hot yoga" 6 mornings a week with a few of his "buddies". The taste was decent, but it in all reality, brewers need to realize that if you can't make something remotely close to Pliny, then it shouldn't be labeled an Imperial IPA. Since it wasn't offensive and it did seem to contain at least one hop leaf, we gave it a good. And so we had come to the end of our session, as Fred said he had some "house cleaning" to take care of with Darby back at the homestead. We bid the lovebirds a fond farewell as we stumbled home green with envy. Until next time, a toast to all our loyal readers, Slainte! and ól suas bitches