Ode to Joy

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Photo by: Ruocaled  (CC)

 

I like beer. I love beer. Some days, I’d like to retreat into a nice, frosty bottle of beer.

But then again, some days, I do just that.

So what’s so great about beer? Let me answer with a counter-question: what’s so great about potpourri?

I could drink beer out of anything. A clean glass. A not-so-clean bucket, with the mop still in it. Someone’s shoe (shoes aren’t that dirty, contrary to the popular belief). A hat—not a straw hat, obviously. A sardine can, with the sardines removed (or not, for that distinctive fishy flavor).

Beer is food. Did you known that? No, of course not. Why? Because the bottled water lobby is working against the Beer (yeah, I’m gonna write it like that from now on).

The Beer is food because it’s mostly water—so basically, because you are also mostly water, the Beer is you. How do you like them beers!

Also, the Beer is made with hops, yeast, and cereal grains—what’s that called but nutritious food.

Beethoven wrote his Ode to Joy to the Beer. Didn’t know that either? Of course not—damn Mozart, he hated old Ludwig. Mozart also represented the wine interests, so no wonder he worked against the Beer. This is all true. Believe you history textbook and music teachers if you want. But I’m here to tell you the truth. In vino veritables. Hic.

There’s gold in the Beer. What else would make it so golden and luscious and…Hic. Excuse me. Must be something in the air.

The Beer is very good for you, because it will—hic–make you lose weight. True story. It actually helps with—hic–weight loss.

It also promotes better handwrit—hic—ing. It does. Try it. Have a few beers and tell me that your handwriting doesn’t look—hic—better.

Is the room spinning for you too? No. Must be something in the air.

The Beer is awesome if you’re living in medieval Europe, where drinking water may result in the Plague (a.k.a. The Black Death). If you’re—hic hic hic—living in modern Europe, well then, you’re beyond help. I should know. I’m right there with you.

The Beer is a natural laxative. That’s actually—hic hic—true. Really, true. Don’t believe me, don’t have to. Hic.

Shakespeare drank nothing but the Beer. So did Edgar Alan Hoe. Hic. Poe.

Also, Picasso used the Beer to wash his hair. So true. That’s why he had such a great big…mane.

Ancient—hic hic—Greeks used the Beer to clean their China. Because at that time, China was in Europe, right where Italy is now. And the Greeks—hic–used the Beer to keep it clean. Ancient maps confirm this in no uncer–hic–tan terms.

Hey, what’s with the lights? Are they flickering for you too? No. Must be something in the air.

Everybody knows, everybody knows—is that a song?–that the holidays are only bearable thanks to the—hic hic hic—the Blurp. The Bleerp. The Bleer. Yeah, that looks right, the Bleer.

I can’t find Q on my keyboard. If you—hic–find it, please send it to:

The Importnance of Bleeing Slurpian

HIC HIC HIC

Thank you very much, I don’t need some air, there’s plenty right here.

Next time on the blog: 10,000 ways to clean your toenails without bending over.

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