The more water you drink, the less color and odor found in your pee. Fifteen glasses of water a day yields about one pee every fifteen minutes, pee of such clarity that one could drink it again (perhaps with ice and a wedge of lemon) and not be able to distinguish between his own urine and tap water (if it were tap water in some African village whose source was a nearby river filled with pee and venomous snakes). Conversely, the less water you drink, the darker and smellier the pee. If no water is consumed in a given day and that person pees, his neighbors will know what he has had for dinner by the smell of it. If the two—the water drinker and the no-water drinker—then commence playing a game of swords, one can deduce that the water-drinker will sustain the brunt of pee-damage and discoloration to his clothing, while his contender, the no-water drinker, will mostly just be wet. (One may also deduce that, because the two are peeing on each other, they are most probably gay fetishists, but that is neither here nor there.) Whatever the case, the water drinker need not worry for his opponent, for though his clothes are not so badly stained, he would likely die first if the two were to be the only surviving passengers on a plane that crashed in the middle of a desert. That is, unless the no-water drinker somehow managed to catch the water drinker unawares, cutting into his jugular vein with a blunt rock or his belt buckle and drinking his blood.

But there is a point in all this, and a contentious one. For while it is true that highly commercialized American domestic beers such as Budweiser, Miller, and Coors are the most popular among college-age drinkers, it is also true that these beers—whether the deep-amber of Budweiser or the transparent golden hue of Miller Light—are like so much chilled, fermented piss dribbling onto our lucky t-shirts and violating our bar taps. Now before you go huffing off, angry that I’ve offended your favorite beer, I ask you, each and every one, to stop and consider the facts.

First, these beers are the best selling beers not because they are the best, but because they get the most commercial air time, the most magazine and billboard ad space. It is nothing better than a lot of money changing hands and, consequently, a lot of psychological conditioning, with televisions and magazines telling us what beers to like. But we will not be programmed as the robots of the future who will one day run our high school cafeterias (who already make almost all our cars)! We will overcome! Let my people go! And in the words of the venerable Martin King, who himself enjoyed a chilled Corona with a slice of lime now and again, thank God almighty free at last!!!

Second: do not pass GO on the impotent excuse that these beers are cheap and that, as a college student, you must go the cheap road. This is bunk. There are better and cheaper beers to be had. I could go to my friendly neighborhood libations merchant right now and get a six pack of delicious Drummond Bros. (which took away the gold medal for American Style Lager at the 1997 Great American Beer Festival) for three bucks. That’s fifty cents for a can of decent beer. You can’t even get a fucking Coke in most vending machines for that, and the stuff doesn’t even have coca in it any more! Other cheap beers include Old Milwaukee, Schlitz, Pabst, and Keystone, all of which—with the possible exception of Keystone—have taken away awards from the very same festival in recent years. Not are all outstanding, but they are at least up to par with that watery piss affectionately known by people who know no better as “Miller Light.”

My final word is this. Our nation is a pitiful wasteland where much good beer is produced (Boulevard Wheat, Flying Monkey, Blue Paddel, etc.) from micro and mid-sized breweries all over the country, about which I know only a handful, as I am no self-proclaimed connoisseur. Little of this beer is consumed however because of the masses who have been conditioned by commercials starring muscular horses (why exactly horses, by the way?) and beautiful women with Coors dribbling from their nipples. We have become Pavlovian hacks, my friends, and we turn to Anhauser-Busch, to Miller and Coors, out of subconscious obligation and in hopes of saving a few bucks. But with what I have presented the solution is simple. Buy a primer, something cheap, PBR maybe. Have a few beers at home before going out and then spend your money on something good, possibly something locally brewed. Or else don’t go out at all. Invite your friends over and get something good at the liquor store. It’s cheaper there than at the bar anyway. This is a call to action my comrades! Fight the Man and his piss beer. How can America get away calling itself a world super-power when its best-selling beers are such crap? We are sandwiched between Canada and Mexico, who have Moosehead, Labatts, Amstel, Pacifico, Dos Equis, and Tacate and what have we got? Nothing. That is, until beer-mongers nationwide take a stand and fight back. And so, like peals of thunder booming over the American landscape, rings the call for the revolution: alcoholics of America unite and fight!

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