I’m not
sure which of the Fraters Libertas Vox Day was referring to when he dedicated
this post to us. For the record, I personally have not
devoted a weekly post to the greater glories of beer for the past few years.
By holding a beer, by drinking beer, by even being credibly identified as a beer drinker, a man is signifying that he is an illiterate peasant, of solid, but hearty stock, the sort of man thick-waisted farm girls with red faces and ankles the size and shape of overstuffed German sausages expect to meet out behind the haystacks.
… if you are at a bar with a group of men and you are the only one to ask for a glass of cabernet, syrah, or pinot noir instead of a "heinie" or a "bud" - notice how even the names of the hops-related beverages are declasse - some modern version of an agricultural helot is bound to make a comment on the order of "well, la di dah". This only shows that he is cognizant of your social superiority, as well as the likelihood that you are, unlike him, wearing clean underwear.
… Don't be surprised if people look at you strangely. Men will wonder if you've come into an inheritance. Women will find themselves contemplating when you became so stylish. Attractive women whose names you do not know will attempt to press their lips against you. And in time, you, too, will learn to develop a healthy aristocratic contempt for the beer-swilling masses. My point, in case it has escaped your hops-addled mind, is that if you're utilizing the beer shield, the shield is arguably the least of your self-inflicted handicaps.
Hard to argue with that.
And this further validates my decision of a few years ago to give up
alcohol entirely and limit myself at social events to exclusively sniffing glue.
