I’m an American Beer Drinker

There was a time when I would scoff at such a proclamation. That time is basically the last eight years here in the U.S. I am one of those lefty-leaning, Neiman Marxist over-educated types that would gladly drink a $10 half-pint of Affligem Blonde before ever uttering those words. Macro-lager over my dead body. But I have to say now that there is a skip to my step and a feeling of hope in the air since the election of one Barack Hussein Obama to the highest office in the land. And since the InBev has made Budweiser its global submissive we now have Pabst Blue Ribbon as the official holder of the title: the largest American-owned brewer.

I told Mel the gatekeeper to this blog here and some other great friends last night as we drank German, Flemish and Belgian beer over pomme frites and Polish sausage galore that I felt compelled to come out of the closet AGAIN about my secret love for Pabst Blue Ribbon. They laughed at me like they should be laughing. PBR is like Barack Obama–so many good things going for it but at the end of the day you know Obama is going to bomb Pakistan and that can’t bode well for PBR.

PBR is also so easy to make fun of these days for so many different reasons. One of them being that it is the official hipster beer in so called dive bars like Bar 107 in Downtown Los Angeles and Little Joy in Echo Park, as well as a host in other hipster meccas like Austin and Williamsburg, Brooklyn. When did hipster become the new scientology? Why does the term hipster cajole us into our best schoolyard bully stances? When did hipster become code for Animal Collective-listening douchebag? (I love Animal Collective by the way) Well, that’s definitely a blog topic for another blog but it is funny to me that the oldest American macro-lager has become somehow the official beer to all that is tragically hip.

Well, this is where I come in and say no way, hipster. Not today. Today I make the claim for Pabst Blue Ribbon. Except the more I learn of its roots the more I become enamored, yet there’s double edge to this sword my friend (pardon me, I’m functioning here after one too many here)–Pabst has a shady past.

According to a salon.com article on Pabst that came way before I had this cool idea last night after my second Spaten, 

“Pabst Brewing Company will be the last of the famous iconic U.S. brewers to be fully independent and American-owned,” the company gloats on its Web site. “Most of our brands … have been around since the 1800’s.”

In an online survey, Pabst asked customers this question: “Would information about Pabst’s American ownership on packaging, like bottles or cans, impact your decision to purchase our products?”

First, Pabst isn’t even a brewer. It closed its Milwaukee brewery in 1996, and now does business out of an office in suburban Chicago. Second, its beers aren’t made in American-owned breweries. Pabst farms out production of its brands to Miller — which belongs to a South African corporation. AGGGHHH!!!! Super buzzkill.

But Pabst’s “We’re an American Brand” claim may succeed. Since the Bud sale, the only classic American-made beers left are tiny regional brands. They’re the real Great American Lagers, but in most of the country, patriotic macro-brew drinkers can’t find them. And, as a new book points out, Pabst’s emergence as a “trendy” beer (to quote a Chicago bartender) demonstrates both the power of its red-white-and-blue image, and its success at marketing, even when that was achieved by barely marketing at all.”

Ugh, Pabst is breaking my heart though this is definitely not the first time I have been the hypocrite. This article goes on and on to say that Pabst knows who is drinking its marketing-free brand so if you get a wild hair up your ass and need some sponsorship for your bourgeois bohemian-type of event, then hit this brand up! Pabst does not advertise it’s red, white and blue cans in the likes of Maxim or even The Nation but it did lay off tons of workers in Milwaukee to maximize profits in suburban Chicago. Boo to the bad beer. I hate being collateral damage to a brand!

I love this quote from salon.com, it lessens the pain: “…portrays the revivalists as trendy urbanites glomming on to blue-collar symbols. And they are, but not quite in the same way as a graphic designer who wears a Carhartt jacket because it’s “unpretentious.” Hipsters fetishize the lowbrow culture of the ’70s and ’80s. But hipsters also tend to hold down jobs as bar backs and waiters. Sure, there are trust funders among them, but they’re mostly young people with thin wallets… The hipster’s beer of choice is always going to be a cheap one.”

So I’m probably just one of the many duped by the PBR’s ability to front like it is working class because I wear Dickies but damn, who doesn’t have a hot waitress or plumber fantasy in them anyway to be immune to such cheap allure? I’m only human and like Morrissey I need to be loved. But man, Pabst Blue Ribbon is actually kind of delicious and even more so for the fact that you can get it for $2-3 a pint at most bars that have Pixies or the first Public Enemy album on their jukebox.

 

Well, in case Pabst is just too self-referential or utterly ironic for your tastes then maybe you want to hit up some other solid stand-by’s like Lucky Lager (which I don’t know if that is still around but hot damn that was some beer! It’s like Red Stripe but not as cool yet still really cool because it was bottled in those hot stubby bottles with a basic red lettering on cream colored label. Freakin’ classic, man.) All’s I know is that it was the beer to drink during those John Coltrane interstellar nights…

Yuengling is also the cheap delicious beer to drink when visiting friends in Park Slope, Brooklyn. It’s definitely surprises you with how light and robust it is and for 9.99 a 12-pack you can’t go wrong. Plus, it sure is fun to say…whatever you do, you must resist the cute branding that is BROOKLYN LAGER. No matter how cold it is it just does not taste good. I want to be down because every time I go to NYC I want to be supportive of the local breweries but man, it just tastes like ass (no offense to ass).