Apparently, a manufacturer of dog-piss beer is having trouble with a manufacturer of cat-piss beer.  Trust me:  this is a fight in which I have absolutely zero dog.  Frankly, if both “brewers” disappeared off the face of the planet, we’d all be better off.

I actually read the above article yesterday afternoon having just come from a very convivial lunch with Longtime Reader Zane H., said lunch including the following:

…and only the day before that I’d been chatting with Mr. FM, planning my next visit to FM Castle and assorted villainy Over There, to include lots of this:

…not to mention more and yet more of this:


So I think you can begin to discern the depth of my disinterest in the spat between MillerCoors and Pabst…


  1. For personal reasons, I really want those breweries to continue making lots and lots of dog/cat-piss beer. Otherwise the frigging hipsters will start buying real beer from the smaller breweries (such as Real Ale Brewing over in Blanco Texas). Those smaller places can’t make the volume and I have a hard enough time finding stores that carry it. If the younger generation gets a taste of the good stuff, we’re screwed.

    Let them drink piss for a while, it’ll do ’em good.

  2. Kim;
    I feel you are being far to generous in describing coors / miller / pabst as dog piss / cat piss beer.
    In order to be classed as either dog or cat piss beer, the “beer” must have a distinct flavor & aroma.
    those three (and a large number of ‘best selling’ “beers”) fail at that.
    the lot of them are akin to the lemonade sold at fairs & circus events. Too few lemons & far too much water. The previous reply by Don has it right. Save the IPAs & Ales for those that understand and appreciate, As Don has noted and paraphrasing Marie Antionette, Let them drink piss.

  3. I would miss having the option of ordering PBR to celebrate my long-ago youth.

    Not that I would ever exercise that option when there are so many good alternatives.

  4. Your post triggers hazy memories of a trip to England with my brother back in the 90’s, which started as an aimless ramble and ended up being a two-week pub crawl. Instead of Frommers or Blue Guides we employed a little volume entitled (if I remember correctly, the cover having been torn off early in our ramblings) The Good Beer Guide. We traveled north from London by secondary/tertiary roads, staying in pubs selected for the excellence of their ale and accommodation, and we had the time of our lives. We drank other-worldly beer, ate wonderful food, smoked rental pipes, petted pub cats, roamed abandoned estates and big houses, haunted churchyards, and drank a lot of epiphanous beer. An observation, dimly recalled: the ale got better the farther north we went. We ended up in Masham, smiling contentedly, awash to the gunnels in Old Peculier. Off-topic comment maybe, but thanks for the memory-trigger.

  5. Kim, I can’t stand either one, but the fact that you like English beer leaves you with no credibility on the subject.

  6. Kim.

    Those inferior beers are referred to as in relation to Canoe Sex.

    It’s fucking near water.

    Sunk New Dawn
    Galveston, TX

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