Most of my beer swilling takes place at a local tap room or a tailgate or the hunting club and focuses on cheap watery beer that is ice cold and refreshing. I take deserved heat from the beer snobs and I do indulge in a fine Pilsner Urquel or a Stella now and then...but Yuengling Lager is about as exotic as I go on most rounds.
My beer taste was forged in the Fraternity party rooms of Lehigh where cold kegs of Hamms or Old Mil were the standard flow from multiple taps manned by abused pledges.
My taste in Bourbon and Rum may be high-brow. But when it comes to beer I am just a pedestrian and hoist a pint or a bottle of what I like.
The labels on the bottles of suds these days, that are gripped in a raised fist, are pasty foiled nonsense that you idly scrape with a fingernail while chatting with the boys or watching the game. Coors has developed a label that lets the drinker know when it is cold...but what half-wit cannot perform this thermodynamic analysis on his own...what a gimmick.
There was a time when beer lables were an art form. I have a friend who collects labels and these are some examples of sporting related beer bottle adornments. There is an odd Whiskey label that I could not resist including. I love these old lables and the feeling they convey for the drink and the drinker.
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