Colt Classic
What to buy with $3
Posted by: John Chandler on Mar 02, 2010 at 01:00PM
13 Comments
I feel your pain. Lest you think the Bar Pilot is some hoity-toity, well-to-do toffee-nosed twit with more dollars than sense, I would just like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that our current state of economic suck-it-tude also affects those of us whose business it is to booze.
Contrary to popular opinion, my office is not stacked floor-to-ceiling with complimentary bottles of Napoleon brandy. Nor do I spend my days sitting in a leather easy chair sipping single malt scotch with my feet propped up on a nearby intern. Sadly, my discretionary budget for drinking and gadding about town is roughly equal to that of Greenland’s highest-paid comedian.
Take yesterday for example, For myriad reasons (my losses at the Baccarat table have been staggering) I was reduced to my last $3 in spending money. Ordinarily I would simply whip out my Mastercard, but I recently discovered that my identity has been pilfered by a juvenile delinquent from Sandusky, Ohio who maxed out my credit on internet porn.
To further complicate matters, there was a Trail Blazer game on TV, and I will not watch a televised sporting event without a beer in hand. I can’t. I won’t.
So I swallowed my pride, went to the corner quickie mart where I am revered as a connoisseur of name-brand swill, and bought a 40-ounce bottle of Colt 45 malt liquor. Mr. Lee rang me up and eyeballed me with newfound contempt, like I was a priest buying a copy of Hustler. Big deal, right? I mean, this is what we drank all the time before the advent of employment. And for $2.74 it didn’t break the bank.
Still, I can’t remember the last time I was reduced to such a pitiable financial state. In order to fool my snobby sensibilities I poured my purchase into a glass normally reserved for a premium ale.
How did it go? Not too bad. I’ve had much, much worse beer in my life. Colt 45 is a relatively smooth and full-bodied brew, and what it lacks in nuance, it more than makes up for with a buzz factor that’s off the charts. In terms of bang for your buck, Colt 45 is the motherlode.
On the downside I had neglected to eat dinner so I soon found myself lost at sea. It’s been my experience that when one tipples in excess with a top-shelf spirit even the resulting intoxication is usually more of a charmingly comic episode. That extra change you’ve plunked down for the good stuff means you’re typically on solid ground even whilst inebriated. Not so with cheap malt liquor. It was a reckless sort of a drunk, like one attained by an underage drinker with hooch stolen from Mom and Dad’s liquor cabinet. I was unsteady and not terribly witty and my dogs stared up at me with alarm in their little brown eyes. I was an unfrozen caveman—a graceless savage and soon I was snoring away on the couch with x’s for eyes.
This morning I awoke with a sour taste in my mouth but thankfully no hangover. Which leads me to ask: What happened to me? I used to drink 40s all the time. I was a happy prole. A lovable lout. Have I become an effete member of the upper crust? A shameless elitist with no soul?
What do you say drinking buddies? Is the consumption or alcohol a matter of economics? Is it worthwhile to drink cheap or are you better off abstaining until you have the coin for something decent? After the age of 40 are you required to maintain your dignity 24-7? As for me, I’m not in a hurry to quaff another Colt, but it was not without its brutish charms.
After all, it’s good enough for Lando Calrissian.
One cannot truly claim the title of “drinker” if one cannot enjoy a variety of beverages up and down the socio-economic spectrum. I for one am always threatening to try a bottle of Mad Dog or Night Train, although truth be told, I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet. I’m pretty sure my liver is up to the task, however. Also, don’t juvenile delinquents in Ohio know that there’s plenty of free internet porn out there? I mean, so I’ve heard.
Dear Bar Pilot, I’ve only ever heard one rule, with regard to drinking, that appears to be true. It is thus: Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Liquor before beer, never fear. The rest is crap. If today, you need a beer to watch the game, but tomorrow you decide to save your shekels for something better—you’re still number one. Thanks. BTW-The blackmail photos of you in the pink hot pants will arrive on Facebook shortly. Sleep well.
By serving it in that fancy Duvel glass you were able to even make Colt 45 classy!
On behalf of Pabst Brewing Company, which owns the Colt 45 brand, I would like to present you, Bar Pilot, with this deluxe set of commemorative 24-carat gold horseshoes, and a case of vintage mint-flavored Cool Colt – suitable for stacking all those complimentary bottles of Napoleon brandy upon. Thank you once again for mentioning our product in your blog. Smooches, Debbi
Dear Mr. Pilot,
As a sloshisseur of mathematics I need more numbers, so would kindly ask you for more scientific data surrounding your experiments. First, I’d like to see a debt to buzz ratio relative to the actual success you’ve enjoyed in order to substantiate once and for all that “it works every time.” Then, favorite alcoholeague of mine, please provide nutritional and/or spiritual data for your reviews based on 700 calorie tofu and nicotine diets. This would be a terrific start.
P.s., can I get Debbi’s phone number?
What ever happened to Rainier Ale (aka Green Death)? What about Big Bear, the Hamms malt liquor? And Mickey’s “double deuce”? You have made me nostalgic, BP.
ouch. no, really – OUCH. i would also like to caution anyone who hasn’t familiarized him/herself with malt liquor with a TRIPLE OUCH. night train is only funny when one hasn’t poisoned oneself with it, particularly while drinking said beverage while watching “heathers” and drinking every time the word “heather” is said. have i mentioned OUCH?!?!
Can anyone define and differntiate Malt Liquor for me (sans google, etc)? And then perhaps attempt to describe and quantify “OUCH?” Who’s for mitt romney now?
Wow, BP, Colt 45,eh?! I guess you aren’t a lily-livered, pearl district ponce after all. What a delightful post. You know your dogs may have been looking @ you funny because you forgot their dinner, seeing as how you forgot your own- it’s just a thought.
I’m with lucy, RAINIER ALE!!! I actually found a case of RA 40 dogs at one of those Rainbow Canned foods warehouse places when we still lived in Hillsboro. Snapped it up and was a happy camper for a week and a half.
Hey Debbi,
When is Pabst going to sponsor my column? C’mon! Take me! I’m yours.
Man, I would dich the C 45 and movedirectly to the front of the line and get some RA. It may not be the micro brew sophistication but its got a good taste and personality. As foir Big Bear, I got mauled by it one night a long while back and have never gone back.
Man, I would dich the C 45 and movedirectly to the front of the line and get some RA. It may not be the micro brew sophistication but its got a good taste and personality. As foir Big Bear, I got mauled by it one night a long while back and have never gone back.