Yuengling

My dear Mr. Drunkman, yeast are uncritical creatures. They consume carbohydrates and defecate alcohol in every fermented comestable.

On the desolate plains of Mongolia the drunkard delights in fermented mare's milk, a sour-tasting slop they call kumiss. In the jungles of the Amazon basin, the Yanomamo drunkard imbibes a fermented gruel, made from a starchy root, chewed to a pulp by the women, spat into a wooden tub where it sits and oozes for three days. The prison-bound drunkards of the USA make a delicate potation from stewed raisins and oatmeal.

Do these drunks love (or should I say "luv"?) their filthy slops and foul slush? You had better believe it, sir! Like a bridegroom loves his bride, or a dog loves his vomit.

The moral I derive from this tale is simple. So long as they have a pot to piss in, the little yeast beasties are happy. This is the true Ask A Drunk spirit. This is wisdom. Go thou and do likewise.

I hates dem yeasty critters.

classic. as a pennsylvanian, we just call it "lager." any responsible bartender knows what you mean.

Ah, Pennsylvania.

Home of the greatest "sub" sandwich I've ever had.