BEER MOVIE

I just realized that my philosophies for buying beer and watching movies are pretty close to the exact same. The two synapses never fired at the same time until I went to the Peoria Theater this weekend with a couple friends to see Adventureland. Peoria Theater serves beer and shows mostly indie flicks that would not have come to Peoria otherwise.

Anyways, here it is: The first few times I bought beer back in the day, it went like this, "Um, what the hell do we get? I dunno, might as well play it safe and buy Bud Light, that seems like the standard beer."

Then, after a while, you start to realize that there is nothing notable about Bud Light, Budweiser, MGD, Miller Lite or Coors other than the advertising. They have funny commercials and constantly update the graphic design of their labels. The drink is fucking watery, will not offend any sensibilities and barely tastes like beer (Budwieser full-flavor excluded). Then you start to notice, "wait a second, this shit is expensive is hell — not super-expensive — but pricey for flavorless beer nonetheless." These bland, lemming-following beers are the overblown, overrated middle brow cinema enjoyed by the Academy and boring housewives across America. It's your Benjamin Buttons, the Titanics, the Cast Aways, A Beautiful Mind, Dances with Wolves, Rain Man, etc. These are perfectly fine movies with nothing to say and mountains of hype.

So after experimentation with the popular domestics, empty wallets lead directly to Hamms, High Life, Old Style and PBR, all of which actually have flavor, don't worry about the graphic design of their labels, and know exactly what they are — American lagers not afraid of tasting like beer and showing flaws. (Sure, they've been bought by the same companies that own Bud and Miller, but whatever.) These are the B-movies, low budget indies and pulpy genre fare that litter my Netflix que. Films that take pride in working on a tight budget, and often have their tongues planted firmly in cheek.

When I show up at a party with PBR or Old Style, at least two people inevitably ask sarcastically if I'm "trying to keep it classy," or some other snark about not drinking Bud Light, etc. Then I just tell them at least I'm not the idiot that shelled out over $20 for a bunch of flavorless beer after seeing too many Bud commercials during football games. And if they are drinking Coors, I let them know that they probably don't like the taste of beer.

Finally you have the microbrews of the US, and imports. I don't have to go in depth, you get the metaphor — foreign films and art house films. They are good, but occasionally get a little full of themselves, just like the beer snobs who take the hops a little too seriously. I'm a snob when it comes to film in the same way. The directors and writers have something to say, and this is going to become tedious, so just write the rest of this paragraph in your head.

I just try to keep my movie and beer choices as far away from the middle (Bud Light) as possible. On the one end of the spectrum is PBR, and on the far other is Guinness, etc. The middle is boring, and at worst dishonest. If you are going to spend money, buy something with some flavor, but for the day-to-day, let's try and save some change and stick to cheap beer that actually tastes like beer. Blah blah blah.

Game Plan

Watchmen, in theaters now ... and your local bookstore ...

Fairly soon, no doubt, nuclear warheads will rain upon American cities, rats will once again carry untreatable disease and the more paranoid among us will retreat into our concrete bunkers to wait for the fallout to pass.

In an effort to avoid a jarring transition between my current state of mindless consumption and the inevitable do-without lifestyle my underground trappings will require, I've developed a guide to living as if the Apocalypse has already happened. That way, when I do have to strip my daily activities to the bare minimum, it will require the same scant effort I put into everything else.

1.) Eat only canned goods
I brought a can of Hormel's canned chili to work for lunch today. It's not too bad, almost as spicy as advertised, and with just a minimal amount of gristle and sand. In fact, I appreciate the added texture. As long as I can still use a microwave in the future, my diet probably won't change drastically, although I will miss milk.

2.) Stockpile booze and cigarettes
Driving to the local liquor store will not be an option when the violent force of a hydrogen bomb renders neighbors nothing but shadows and Oldsmobiles to only dust. The most bang-for-the-buck, storage wise, is hard liquor, but a few hundred cases of PBR (for variety's sake) wouldn't hurt.

3.) Hoard books, magazines, DVDs and CDs
Entertainment, self-education and media will be the best time-filler. Once again, storage space is key, and books probably kill the most time per-square-inch, but DVDs can be watched over and over again, and I've not the type to regularly re-read the same books. A laptop and Kindle would take care of all these needs, but in the event of nuclear annihilation, it might be nice to actually hold the paper, art, liner notes, etc.

4. Grow and strengthen fingernails to dramatic effect
This will come in handy for building my legacy. When archaeologists (or my parents) find my remains in the bottom of a poorly constructed bomb shelter, they will also find a tally mark for each day of solitude scratched into the concrete walls. Never mind my tools and sharp aluminum from empty beer cans that could be used, they will know I was a man obsessed, a man of epic will who kept time with rat-like tenacity. This could prove difficult (I chew the fuck out of my fingernails) but I haven't trimmed my toenails in weeks!

5. When at home, wear pajamas and never leave the house
No further explanation needed.

Upon further review, I already live as if a nuclear holocaust has devastated everything outside my front door. No lifestyle changes needed, as long as I can dig a tunnel to The Dormitory.
Have fun transitioning to your new cramped quarters, you do-gooder health freaks — if you weren't already outside jogging when it all came to an end.