Design and marketing are crucial to the beer business. There are many beers I'm sure taste great that I have never bought. I've heard good things about Hoppin' Frog, but their labels are retarded. They look like novelty beers you'd by at a state border tourist trap. We know the beer industry is full of shit. The big brewers have spent billions on titties, comedians and Carlos Santana guitar solos to sway us to drink their version of pale, fizzy fluid instead of the other one that tastes exactly the same.
But these days there are millions of people like me who are always searching for ways to spend more on beer without increasing the amount consumed. The beer from the guys the big guys is too cheap! So I walk into my local expensive beer store and look around. Already I can feel my debit card warming my right buttcheek. I see Belgian ales aged in Madeira barrels, sour beers brewed in Texas, Japanese beers aged in Scotch barrels. I check my bank balance on my phone and see that my paycheck was freshly direct deposited. Mmmm, I can't wait to wipe that fucker out. But what should I get? Who's the sexy beer that gets to go home with Mr. Money?
A row of stubby BFM bottles caught my eye. $8 for 11.2 ounces? Now you're talking. Let me look at you closer. BFM: Brasserie something or other. 10.3% is a very sexy ABV. But wait. I'm not all about the alcohol. Otherwise I would just go buy some cheap hooch. See, I went to college. You have to appeal to my mind if you want me to drink you. And I like what I see. The red star appeals to the socialist indoctrination I received from my hippie professors. And BFM is like KGB, SLA and FARC. Yeah, man. If this beer could smoke and wear a hat it would smoke black cigarettes and wear a beret. BFM, you're coming with me.
But these days there are millions of people like me who are always searching for ways to spend more on beer without increasing the amount consumed. The beer from the guys the big guys is too cheap! So I walk into my local expensive beer store and look around. Already I can feel my debit card warming my right buttcheek. I see Belgian ales aged in Madeira barrels, sour beers brewed in Texas, Japanese beers aged in Scotch barrels. I check my bank balance on my phone and see that my paycheck was freshly direct deposited. Mmmm, I can't wait to wipe that fucker out. But what should I get? Who's the sexy beer that gets to go home with Mr. Money?
A row of stubby BFM bottles caught my eye. $8 for 11.2 ounces? Now you're talking. Let me look at you closer. BFM: Brasserie something or other. 10.3% is a very sexy ABV. But wait. I'm not all about the alcohol. Otherwise I would just go buy some cheap hooch. See, I went to college. You have to appeal to my mind if you want me to drink you. And I like what I see. The red star appeals to the socialist indoctrination I received from my hippie professors. And BFM is like KGB, SLA and FARC. Yeah, man. If this beer could smoke and wear a hat it would smoke black cigarettes and wear a beret. BFM, you're coming with me.
When I get home I put BFM in the freezer. I eat some cheese and crackers. I get on the internet. I try to distract myself from the beer. I want to drink it so bad, but it's not cool yet. I try to forget about by reading the first issue of Preacher. That comic kicks ass. I forgot how awesome the Saint of Killers is. Bad ass. But I can't stop thinking about it. Just a little longer. Oh, I know what will help me forget. I open a private browser window. A little while later I go wash my hands and check the beer. It's ready. Let me get my expensive beer glass. This is what it looked like:
I smell it and sip it and swish it. It's pretty normal for $8 beers. Part sweet, part weird. The weirdness is key. That means you've got a challenging beer. People Who Know don't want easy beers. BFM even thought to include a warning for the weak:
If the label design wasn't so expertly done, I would be inclined to think BFM didn't know what they were doing. But since they included this warning I have to assume they intended their beer to taste like a handful of pennies.
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