As enormous swathes of smoke reached the south bay, this week the Mercury News published an outcry over Napa wineries’ profits getting burnt in this latest rash of catastrophic Northern Californian fires.
It took days before they mentioned the hundreds of working families and retirees who lost everything in places like Santa Rosa, and has not countenanced the plight of the unrecognized and undocumented workers who make the whole Napa economy move. Above is a digest of what is now a series of articles by Mary Orlin, George Avalos, Paul Rogers, et al.
Found this guaife-proof Coronita, seven lousy ounces, once again tossed in the recycling in a pack of empties. Froze solid on top in the freezer. Approaching the mid-20s of how many road beers I’ve found since I started looking!
Summer edition, as they say, of Corona. That’s right, it was in a recycling can. Maybe folks should buy beer they don’t want to throw away…? Anyhow, cleaned it good, poured it out, drank it.
Another case –no actually, a single –of leaving a good bottle in the pack when you throw it out. In Santa Cruz I caught this Angry Orchard in the guy’s recycling bin. It’s brewed by Boston (Samuel Adams). I feel like I should do a lengthy, useless video like those cats do on youtube about beers that you’d never ever need to review…
Anyhow I drank the errant Angry Orchard for the first time, warm like I tend to do, and it was like drinking a soda at the same time as a gross cheap beer. Turn the label around and wouldn’t you know, it’s got almost as much sugar in it as a friggin soda. Yuck! Soda is bad for you, kids! Roadbeers are the meaning of life!
Let’s talk about the mouthfeel. Again, sugary, syrupy, not good. Like a lot of American beers, not really fizzy but like liquid sand, or granulated pellets of solid gasoline, like my friend and I were saying when we tried a Steel Reserve Hard Pineapple last weekend –as research for my next novel!
I never eat sweets so I’m pretty sure I can TASTE the high-fructose corn syrup in shit, particularly in Pabst, High Life, these kinds of gross beers, when I feel like increasing my vow of poverty or find myself at a show.
My savage neighbor about two blocks down is always chucking empties into the azalea and I chase after them often. After a few weeks off I finally went burrowing under the azalea and what have we here amongst the redeemable container weight but Tecate Light.
Turns out I got two; photographed the one with the ruined top before I realized the second one was there. Due to the lack of fizz and therefore feeling that the can was less than full, I must’ve mistaken the damaged one for an empty and only known at first that I had the one intact can but switched them when I arrived … uhh … at the park.
Anyhow, that’s like, what, 23 since I’ve been counting. Road beers!
In related news, I also acquired a large plastic can of protein powder a few years ago, yknow, with all the lifting I do, but have been trepidatious about trying it. Turns out it’s still good. Roadtein!