Tuesday, May 10, 2011

The Silver Bullet

So my family and some family friends came up to Colorado to visit me for graduation. But graduation only lasts so long, so eventually we had to find something better to do than sit around drinking. So we went to the Coors factory in Golden to stand around drinking instead.

The Coors factory is where they brew several beers, including Coors Light. I like beer, and I like drinking inappropriate amounts of it and then making inappropriate jokes about people’s ethnic background. I like beer because it is simple. You don’t need to mix it, stir it, chase it, shoot it or sniff it. You open it, you drink it, you piss it out, and you repeat.

Coors is no different. They love to market themselves as the "coldest beer in the world," which always confused me. I figured I was the one who determined how cold my beer was. For instance, I rarely wait before the mountains turn blue before I start drinking them. They get to this sort of light, bluish gray color and then I just drink it.

Now, Coors is famous for their commercials, which tout Coors as being brewed in the Rockies with Rocky Mountain water by Rocky Mountain men who have beards and wear jeans and have firm handshakes. All of the commercials show epic scenery with lush evergreens and mountains and bald eagles and stuff. Then you actually get there. There are a few lumps of dirt, but that’s about it.

So we got there and find out that the tour is actually free, and for a reason. It’s not really a “tour” in the sense that there is no tour guide, no tour exhibits, and very few tourists. It was really a five minute walk through parts of their building with an audio device that you could use to hear about key stops on the walk, like the men’s bathroom.

There were several helpful people seated near some of the exhibits. One of them delightfully informed us that every batch of beer that Coors brews is tasted to ensure that it is up to Coors standards (that is, very low). This was very interesting to me, because that sounded to me like an awesome job. I like drinking large quantities of beer. I love getting paid. I have low standards. Could this be my dream job?

Turns out it’s not. Apparently you have to have a very sophisticated palette, and as most people can tell you, sophisticated is one thing that I am not. Besides, you can’t drink off the job or you could ruin your taste buds (I just think it’s weird that a job requires you to drink at work, and then forbids it at home).

Anyway, all in all the tour lasted about ten minutes. This was fine with me, because frankly the only part I cared about was the samples at the end of the tour. Now, I am not one of those beer snobs who can tell you about the hoppiness or the citrus flavor of a beer or whatever. All beer tastes like stale rat’s piss, so there really isn’t much of a difference. But I do have a favorite type of beer: free beer.

So I was excited for my free samples. Each person on the tour was allowed to have three glasses of free beers, and no sharing was allowed. I think you all know that I did not exactly follow this rule. I tried about five different types of beer. I assessed the flavors and the feel of the beer with the following sentiment: “BUURP.” Then I went and drank more of it.

Of course, no tour would be complete without the gift shop. Normally I skip gift shops, but then again normally I’m used to gift shops simply being full of ugly t-shirts and key chains and those license plates with your name on it (and for some reason, they never have my name). But this gift shop had bottle openers and pint glasses and, most importantly, more beer.

So overall, I would say it was the perfect destination. In fact, with all of the breweries in Colorado, I’m thinking of drinking my way around the state. I’m starting with my fridge.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Osama Got Pwned

It truly is a great time to be an American. Because we have once again proved that when you mess with the red, white and blue, people with guns will descend out of the sky and shoot you in the head in the middle of the night. Just to be patriotic, you should play this song the whole time you are reading this entry (and beware, there is some very patriotic swearing involved).

As you must know by now, a team of American SEALS shot and killed Osama bin Laden on Sunday, ending what was basically a ten year game of hide and seek with guns. While the British were busy wearing silly hats, we laid down the law. Sure, he may not be technically running al Qaeda anymore, but I think we can safely say he had this coming.

In fact, I think we were a little too nice to him. Apparently we tried to observe all of the religious guidelines to getting rid of his body. Or at least that’s what I was told. But then I read that they dumped his body in the ocean. Now, I’m not too familiar with Islam, but I had no idea becoming fish food was part of the religious process. But it's okay, because I'm sure he is off to go see his 72 virgins as we speak.

But apparently no country wanted to deal with his remains, and I guess launching him into space was too expensive and tossing him into the fires of Mt. Doom was a little too nerdy. Frankly, I would have loved to have been the country to take him. I would set up his body in one of those dunking booths, except the water tank would be filled with piranhas. Kids would love it. I just feel sorry for the Atlantic Ocean. First BP spills a ton of oil and now they have to do deal with this guy being dumped. Nobody will ever want to swim there again.

But back to the part where we shot him in the face. The details are still coming out, but apparently they followed one of his couriers back to the hideout after what I can only assume were liquor runs. Honestly, I’m a little peeved that he was hiding in a house this whole time. I figured if he was dodging us for ten years, he better at least be somewhere deep in the mountains with only goats for conjugal company. But no, he’s just chilling at some house with fifty wives, throwing pajama parties and watching The Real World. I mean even Sadaam Hussein was found in a hole in the ground.

Thankfully, all that comfort ended when a team of Americans raided his house in what I’m assuming will one day be a movie starring Channing Tatum. How would you like to be the guy who shot Osama? The SEAL team was told to not tell anybody about the raid, but come on, are you telling me you wouldn’t tell people? It would be an awesome go-to story to tell at parties to impress drunk chicks. Whereas the story I tell now involves a gallon of old milk, a parking lot and a small dog and isn’t nearly as exciting.

What’s even worse is that for all the secrecy surrounding this operation, one thing almost blew it: Twitter. As if I needed another reason to hate Twitter, some guy next door started unknowingly tweeting details about the raid. Thankfully nobody read his tweets, but imagine if anybody cared who he was? Because you know that Osama has a Twitter account that he uses to see what meaningless things Ashton Kutcher is up to.

I remember people always ask me where I was when I found out about 9/11, and my answer is never good. Because 9/11 happened at about 5 in the morning in Hawaii, so I was in bed. But I remember very clearly where I was when I found out Osama was dead. I was on my couch. I’m on my couch for a lot of major events in history. I was drinking and watching baseball when the most amazing thing happened. The Philadelphia Philly fans began to chant in unison, “U-S-A!” This was remarkable for several reasons. For one, I didn’t think Philly fans could spell. Also, normally Philadelphia fans are so drunk and angry that the only they can chant in unison is “boo.”

But that shows how a nothing brings a country together like the gruesome death of somebody we don’t like. The world is now a safer place. Except for Kim Jong-Il. He might want to start checking Twitter more often.