So it’s a Sunday afternoon, and you’re relaxing in your mahogany man-cave, flipping through your hand-copied 17th-century manuscript of the Book of Kells. Suddenly, the doorbell rings; it’s Burt Reynolds, the Old Spice Guy, and the Most Interesting Man in the World. Later, you’re two or three hands into a high-stakes game of hold ‘em – the $1 chips are worth $1,000 and the $10 chips are classic American sports cars – when Burt Reynolds suggests that he’s a little thirsty. Obviously, no standard beverage will do. You reach into a jewel-encrusted liquor cabinet, and you pull out one of these:
This is extreme Scottish beer maker BrewDog’s newest creation, “The End of History.” It’s a 55% ABV beer that combines high-octane badassery with small mammal taxidermy to create the most manly beverage possible. It’s also the Sugar Shack’s newest endorsement, despite costing $765. It’s named after a work of high philosophy called The End of History and the Last Man by Francis Fukuyama, and it’s probably bottled only by Navy SEALs who have summited Everest and made out with Queen Rania of Jordan at the same time.
The only reason why this post isn’t categorized under “Beer Reviews” is because we will never be able to buy it. You can’t see me, but I’m weeping softly into a throw pillow right now. Are you there, Burt? It’s me, Staker! Please, please bring this beer to us. Please. I’ll never ask for anything again.
“I Am Not Ashamed.” Well, you should be. I certainly am, seeing as I live on the same continent as you people.
Under the umbrella of a Christian organization by the name of Answers in Genesis, the blog/fecal catapult “I Am Not Ashamed” blisters up through the skin of the internet. It is a festering, rotten sore of simplistic and inherently contradictory belief systems, worsened by blind faith in an imaginary superpower – one which allows you to irrefutably confirm that the entire Bible actually happened. Hey evangelical Christians: how’d you discover time travel without real science? Does the time machine run on sexual purity? Repressed homosexual urges? Pure, distilled self-righteousness? The shredded remains of original copies of the Constitution? All of these things? Continue reading →
Making your way through the world today, sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.
Home of The Classic Cheers Paradigm
By now, I’m sure you are aware of a small neighborhood on the edge of the North American continent called Southie. In this land, there are many establishments that provide nourishment of the mind, body, and soul. By far, one of the most charming and sit-comesque is The Farragut House in The Point.
Do you remember when we were kids, and they had those fruit snacks that would spray a viscous liquid of diabetes-causing ultra-high fructose corn syrup when you bit down on them? It’s kind of like that…