Got a rare bird today with Alesong’s Rhino Suit. Objectively, Rhino Suit is just a fantastic name: is it a suit made of rhino? A rhino in a tux? A suit to make a person look like a rhino?
The world may never know. I suggest to you that there isn’t even a wrong answer. They’re all interesting in their own ways.
This particular Rhino Suit is an imperial milk stout that’s been aged on bourbon barrels. The nose faintly gives this away, too with that smoky harshness in the background. I will say that this one strikes a better balance than last week’s beer though; the lactose sweetness blends with the roasted malts to give me the impression of sweetened cold coffee that’s been doctored up, if you get my drift.
And I think you do.
I’m having difficulty deciding if I should start writing in pubs again. I’ve already been doing some of that-but outdoors, when possible or when it’s low tide, and only briefly. As Mr. T said; the virus ain’t over, fool.
I would like to be around people again. At least in small doses, people are great.
But I would also like to not give into this….puzzling apathy about a deadly disease. First off: I would like to not get sick and die.
I’d like to die reasonably healthy, and spitting into the eye of Marjorie Taylor Green. Not because Kimmel told me to, but because she’s fucking trash and if you’re gonna spit in the face of evil, she’s as good a representative as anyone.
I mean. There’s a list, right? If you’re reading this, you can come up with at least half a dozen, I’d bet, before I finish this beer.
However, there are still priorities: Namely not dying due to a pandemic partnering with late-stage capitalism lubed up by fascism.
On the other hand, I would also like to not die mentally broken because I have been so isolated that I’m starting to get….weirder.
It’s a lot.
It’s a lot for anyone, and so hey; keep fighting the good fight. Do what you can, heck, sometimes even give doing what you can’t a shot. All things considered, what’s there to lose?
A pint for Dionysus 