Tony's blog

So...beer pong. It's practically a swear word to craft beer afficionados. To the uber-staunch crafties I say, "please hold on to your overly-priced, strategically faded, oppressed industrial revolutionist hat for one moment." My iPod includes Mozart AND Motorhead.

A post about beer pong IS a stretch for a site that focuses on craft beer, but Brewdies often goes where you tell it. The staff frequently (twice) receives letters asking about beer pong. A recent message from a loyal reader asked specifically for information on three things:

The holiday season introduces a wonderful variety (mine field) of get-togethers that can be enjoyed (navigated) with the right beer (native mine sweeper walking 100 yards in front of you).

One of my favorite books is Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The protagonist rides a motorcycle that is a linear assembly of pistons, transmission engagements and fuel explosions occurring over and over at a rate timed to the thousandths. The process is "physics undeniable" and when one part malfunctions, the entire process breaks down. As the rider and machine glide through the countryside, happiness, beauty and abstract philosophy are found.

I once read that "a beer with no head is kind of like a person with no head, but worse." That's funny. I'd give the writer credit for that line, but that would mean extra research.

When I was five, I had my first taste of beer. My dad was playing cards with my uncles and I asked if I could have a sip of his Buckhorn beer (4% alcohol, 5% paint thinner). He said I wouldn’t like it, but he was wrong. From that day on I demanded a beer with my Count Chocula!

Kidding. Dad was right and I winced. Quit laughing. I bet the Guinness, Miller and Coors kids did the same thing. Well, maybe not the Guinness kid. He probably dunked his Irish crackers in a pint then walked down the block to whip Johnny Newcastle’s British ass.

For the first time in 20 years, Autumn in the north began with a full moon. Concerned readers are shouting "WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR BEER LOVERS?" To these concerned readers, I say "please stop shouting. There's information about beer-crazed monks coming up."

One of the best parts about Oktoberfest is that, in many places, it starts in September. A festival of this magnitude refuses to abide by some silly Pope's calendar. Gregory XIII...more of a "Zima" kind of pope.

From State Fair Single Batch Brews to Target Field Taps

One long Twin Cities’ weekend put me in front of two very different glasses of beer. The state fair is in town and, along with it, the home brew competition. The contest has twenty-eight categories of stein-filled joy that range from lagers and ales to meads and spice/herb/vegetable concoctions.