26 Oct 2012
KillerBeerFest 4 and The Satirical Conspiracy of Doom
WARNING! THE FOLLOWING BLOG POST HAS NEXT-TO-NOTHING TO DO WITH TOMORROW’S STELLAR LINE-UP OF AWESOME, KILLER BREWS AT BAILEY’S TAPROOM FROM 2 PM UNTIL MIDNIGHT. FOR THE FULL LIST AND FURTHER DETAILS, GO HERE. FOR A COUPLE OF CHEAP LAUGHS AT THE EXPENSE OF ANGELO DE IESO, GOOD TASTE, AND RIGHT-WING REPUBLICANS, CONTINUE READING!
It was my understanding when I settled down to write my three-part novella about Angelo De Ieso II back in May that he was actually leaving Oregon for good and that KBF 3.5 would be the final sequel in the beer-killing horror genre saga; it was supposed to be the one where that seri-ale killer got so blasted there was no way it was gonna stagger back up again to fill another pint glass.
So I used every last hyperbole, strained every hackneyed turn of phrase, and doled out a year’s worth of flamboyant metaphors to send off the king of Brewpublic in a meteoric haze of good will and bad writing. Exhausted and spent from the effort, I took my usual three-month hiatus from writing this blog…
…and then the Boston Bastard showed up at our door with KBF 4 posters.
That’s right. Just when you thought it was safe for you to go out again, here comes KillerBeer, jumping down throats, intoxicating minds, and raping livers.
But for me, KillerBeer provides an even greater threat. How in the world am I going to top my previous efforts of calling Angelo a “Satan worshipping Anti-Christ” or a “stone cold gangster who has been intimidating craft brewers in the Pacific Northwest for the past fourteen years”? And while I’m asking rhetorical questions, what the hell is Angelo doing back in Portland? Doesn’t that guy live in California now?
I was actually sitting here, trying to rationalize how I run into this guy more often when he lives 600 miles away than when he was just on the other side of the Columbia River when I heard a knocking on my front door. I opened it to see a familiar face from the craft beer industry. “Hey there Ez—” I was interrupted when he clamped a hand over my mouth and led me inside.
After the door had been locked, the curtains drawn, and the light fixtures checked for any listening devices, the gentleman in question, who has requested that I refer to him only as “Six-Pack,” told me a story that should have Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman dusting off the typewriter props and breaking out the bellbottoms again.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why Brewpublic formed in 2008?” he asked me.
I hadn’t thought of it and told him so.
“What else happened in 2008?” he asked. When I looked at him puzzled for longer than a second, he answered his own question. “Hope and change mean anything to you?”
According to Six-Pack, Angelo De Ieso II saw the writing on the wall back then, and knew that a Kenyan with a Hawaiian birth certificate would be the next President of the United States. “Okay, so what?” I said.
“Let me put it this way,” he said. “Don’t you find it strange that the upcoming election is as close as it is? How could Mitt Romney be leading in any state outside of Alabama, Mississippi, and Texas, let alone neck-and-neck with Obama? Sure, if you take the whole nation-is-a-car-stuck-in-the-ditch analogy, we’ve barely got two wheels out of the mud and though we’ve got the engine idling, it’s also making some weird wheezing noises. But you know Romney’s going to take a sledgehammer to the car and then give away all the shiny cool parts to his favorite rich friends.”
“Hey, man,” I interjected, “You said it, not me! I don’t want to talk politics on the Bailey’s blog. I might end up offending some angry, old, rich, white dudes, and that’s the majority of our customers between 4-7 PM Monday through Friday!”
“Fine, fine. Look, I’m trying to tell you something here. Angelo saw all this coming. He’s playing the long-game. And the prize? The presidency of the United States of America!”
WTF!! What will happen next? Click on through for the harrowing conclusion!
Pages: 1 2