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As political clamor and frenzy begin to build toward the upcoming presidential election, we of the beer loving community cannot smugly snicker as if we were above it all. Now don’t get me wrong, we clearly are above those monotonous debates on the – yawn – boring stuff like health care, social security, national defense, tax cuts and the rest. But alas, not so when it comes to the seductive power and prestige of being a beer club’s “member of the month."
Yes even in my small, local group, the beloved HOPS club, it happens. Now trust me, the HOPS Club is truly a dedicated group that promotes the appreciation of all types of beer through, ah, well, consumption. After all, is there any better way? Indeed, we members proudly live by our elegant motto “ more than just beer…”, though we often times simply shorten it to “more beer”. Just for the sake of efficiency of course.
The most prestigious and revered title in this august group is “Member of the Month”. My goodness, just writing those words brings a chill. Member of the Month. My, now that is impressive. And talk about rewards. You get an official “Member of the Month” pat on the back at every club meeting; a warm round of applause whenever you enter (or is it leave?) a room, an offensively cheap certificate, and the right to ask any bartender in the continental United States for a free pint. “Ask”, not “receive” being the operative verb.
The criteria for selection is itself a glowing testimonial to the foresight, fairness, and spirit of generosity of the HOPS Club’s founding fathers. All it takes is for the candidate to submit a certified and duly notarized statement of what they have done to further the renown of the club and the mystique of beer. The theory being – and it is certainly a sound one – that in their quests for the prize even the losers will have done countless good beer deeds and that for every pint size good deed done, a growler of rewards will be returned.
Currently we are in the midst of an unprecedented three-month reign of the great Larry Bremmer, widely proclaimed as the “Beer Sage”. Space, and the need to save material for subsequent articles, preclude me from now recounting his fabulous deeds of beering excellence. But Larry has his work cut out for him this month. Oh yes indeed. Check out this entry:
Dear Judges – here is my true story. An incident happened this past weekend that I feel easily merits member of the month consideration and serves as proof positive that a true beer drinker’s job is never done. I was peacefully fishing, my passioned avocation, for the noble steelhead on the banks of the beautiful Salmon River in quaint Altman, New Jersey. Ah fate. Little did I know that shortly my beer expertise was about to be put to the test for the good and glory of the beerdom. Due to the amazing restraint I showed the night before at my local brewpub, despite their fantastically delicious Eliminator ale (and at 8.5% is that ever a perfect name), I was a titan of alertness. My every sense was heightened. As the minutes and water rushed by, I surveyed the solitude around me and suddenly spied another fisherman some 85 feet away. His solitary form silhouetted against the rising sun, a pole in one hand and, yes, a beer bottle in the other.
I instantly drew upon my basic training course in beer bottle recognition, advanced placement level. This though, was no classroom simulation; it was the real thing. Vast distance AND the label was facing away from me. Then it hit me, like the sharpness of Anchor Liberty Ale’s hops. I knew that shape. It was the classic vessel of “Old Speckled Hen”! Being your tireless representative, I waded over to the hearty angler and respectfully asked if I could see the label. YES! OLD SPECKLED HEN! I proceeded to tell this fine fellow of how impressed I was by his choice of this fine brew in such a wilderness setting. He in turn told me of how awed he was that I could identify his beverage simply by the bottle shape. Then, I let the secret out. I was no ordinary fisherman; I was a member of the renowned HOPS club.
He then thanked me profusely, joyous in the knowledge that his beer choice had been vindicated by a certified professional. Yes, another fellow human made happy thanks to good beer. He fished on, caring not about his catch but secure in the comfort that his beverage money had been well spent. He now knew the unassailable truth of the prime beer directive: bad beer at a cheap price is no bargain. Yours in Hops, Vin Lacovara
All I can say is that Mr. Lacovara is easily worthy of the Member of the Month title. But the big question remains, is he the most worthy?
I can’t wait to open the next entry.
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