I don’t need to be the smart guy in the room. I DO need to be that guy sitting in his seat, a yelling his head off for the Kraken, sipping a great Washington indie beer that I didn’t have to smuggle in.
What happens when the fabled American Attention Span moves on, as it ALWAYS does, and Trump is a sad and distant relic of their Party’s failures?
The Trumps have collectively, led by their yahoo father, become a perfect caricature of American Excess. Gold toilets, skyscrapers, swimmin’ pools, movie stars. Youse guys come back, now, y’heah me?
You have everything you need to determine what constitutes “best beers”, for your tastes, in your possession as you read this: Brain. Tongue. Maybe a bottle opener and glass. That’s IT.
Break up partisan gridlock and REQUIRE these servants who work for US to focus on the tasks at hand and less on maneuvering for political leverage and getting reelected.
A Fistful of Bourbon’s cross-cultural breeding adds up to a Whiskey that’s infinitely versatile and appealing for straight, meditative sipping by the fire, evenings at the beach, and mixing liberally in your fave cocktails.
Garrett Marrero is a Nice Guy. I will never meet him but if I did, I’d like him. I hope he makes 200 billion dollars and becomes governor of Hawaii…because he’d do the right thing with both of those.
If you’re flush enough, and not a tight-fisted misanthrope like me, you CAN, absolutely give a genuinely magnificent bottle o’ hooch without straying into Bankruptcy Territory.
The Pour Fool 