Tag: beer

Posted on

The 4th of July and Beer In Clear Plastic Cups


Granbury, Texas, Town Square

The Devil’s oven has descended on our renowned small town of Granbury. It’s hot, so there is no reason to piss and moan. It’s July, so we get over it, mostly.

Every year, the 4th of July weekend brings thousands of folks to the square looking for something they don’t have in Fort Worth, Dallas, Waco, or somewhere in rural Texas. The lake itself is a big draw. It borders downtown, and at least two thousand overloaded pontoon boats and jerk kids on jet-powered crotch rockets, ripping up the water.

Throngs of folks in SUVs and expensive pickup trucks show up and wander around the square, drinking beer in clear plastic cups. A few of the restaurants sell it in pop-up minibars along the streets. Men with a cup of beer in each fist, and women with their cups of white wine, walking, stumbling into shops, buying up everything they can find; great for the merchants, tough on the locals who want to enjoy some of the festivities.

We have a square that is the epitome of the old west. White rock buildings were constructed in the 1800s, with narrow streets and quaint shops. The Paramount television series 1883 was filmed in our town square and the countryside around us. Being voted the best small historic town in the country for four years has much to do with the invasion. I am noticing more young folks now than in years past, and that’s a good thing. The old folks are too tired to walk around in the heat, and they don’t spend much money and tend to only drink one beer if that.

MoMo and I sat at our usual picnic table at the Brew Drinkery on Pearl Street, enjoying a craft beer, some chips, and people-watching. Young folks, and old folks dressed in red-white-and-blue attire, some with hardly any attire, some with too much attire, dogs with clothes, dogs with shoes, big dogs pulling small people around, folks with too many kids to corral, and everyone has a clear plastic cup of beer. Cheers and a happy Fourth of July from Granbury, Texas, and the Cactus Patch.

Posted on

Back When Beer Was For Real Men And Real Women


“I may not always drink beer, but when I do, it won’t be an Annhiser Busch product.” You can bet your sweet Bippy on that one. The country musician boys are banning Busch products from their shows, and Kid Rock will be touring the country, shooting up 12 packs of Busch beer to cheering crowds of rednecks all through the southland. Let’s hear old Neal sing about this one. This shit is about to get serious, stat, and pronto.

Bring back the bull terrier dog with the spot on his eye, the dude with the beard and the European accent, and the happy young folks on the beach around a roaring campfire. Hell, even Hank Hill and his buddies standing in their alley sipping on a cold Alamo can of beer, anything but this transgendered mutt, Dylan Mulvaney, or whatever its name is. If you have a pecker, you ain’t a girl because you don’t have a babushka and never will. Beer is not a social statement vehicle; it’s a brew to be enjoyed with Mexican food, hamburgers, and hotdogs at the ballpark, not at a drag queen children’s indoctrination show. It’s a sacred piece of Americana, Texana, and Rosanna-Rosanna-Dana; she was a beer drinker too, as is my wife MoMo.

If he were still with us, my grandfather would be having a conniption fit over this latest bow to wokeness. He drank his beer with a few shakes of salt to give it effervescence and increase the foamy head. He drank his brew like a real man, the one that killed German soldiers with his bare hands in the muddy battlefields of France in 1917. There was no room for pansy-assed young folks printed on his beer bottle or in his life. The Busch family might want to reconsider their blunder before their American beer drinkers switch to Irish Whiskey like this old guy has done.