Memo from the Beer Desk: Choose wisely at the Great Taste

Like a stealthy werewolf dragging a cooler of booze -- holy crap, that’s a labored simile, eh? -- the Great Taste of the Midwest has crept up on me once again. I was shocked -- shocked! -- to realize that the end of this week will be marked by the glorious intake of a carnival of beer.

Gonna be a few changes this year, notably an altered layout with five smaller tents rather than three large ones, plus an education tent that will include sessions on pairing beer with cheese and chocolate. Still, expect the usual spectacle of beer madness. But, hell -- you can’t have a beer festival without some cautionary examples, right? With a tip o’ the hat to Goofus and Gallant, we present the adventures of those two delightful beer-swilling scamps, Dumbass and Debonair.

Dumbass arrives at Olin-Turville Park and promptly freaks out over the size, weird meanderings, and slow movement of the line to get in. He spends all morning drinking shitty beer while waiting in line, and is pretty much wasted by the time he gets to the gate.

Debonair takes the opportunity to review the different breweries and their locations while he waits in line. He has wisely printed out a copy of the program from the website (when it became available). And even if he forgot to do that, he was delighted to find copies available before the gates opened.

Dumbass tries to sample every single beer under the sun. While he will bellow loudly when he discovers a beer that doesn’t meet his expectations, he will attempt to force down beers he doesn’t like, just to avoid wasting alcohol.

Debonair sticks to beers he’s never heard of, and makes sure to note the special brews that many breweries will tap according to posted schedules. He’s never afraid to pour out a beer that doesn’t quite agree with his palate, though he makes sure to do so well away from the brewers’ stand so as to avoid bruised feelings.

Dumbass runs to the porta-john only when he can’t stand the pressure in his bladder, and when he realizes that the line is moving quite slowly, he promptly moves to piss in the shrubbery. Of course, he is quick to snitch to any nearby cops if he sees someone else pissing in the shrubbery.

Debonair stays aware of the porta-john situation, and is able to stand in line without grabbing his crotch, moaning, or screaming “Did ya fall in?!” at the current occupant. He makes full use of the sanitizing liquid provided.

Dumbass tries to ride his bike away, or run, or skip, or jump, or do anything requiring coordination at the completion of the festivities, and ends up with a face full of gravel.

Debonair gets a ride or takes a pleasant stroll in a more-or-less straight line. He does not bleed.

Dumbass goes directly to the downtown Great Dane on a mission to drink even more mass quantities of beer. He soon functions on the level of a lobotomized hamster. One prone to projectile vomiting.

Debonair first gets some water into his system, then some food. If at a restaurant, he is polite and tips well. At least 20%.

Dumbass makes special note of the idiosyncrasies of his fellow Great Taste patrons, and enters the information into a “blog” in order to mock them.

Debonair notes that alcohol can have an adverse effect on one’s behavior, and chooses to forgive any personality quirks that may have arisen through the course of the day.

So there. Don’t be a Dumbass. Or do. I don’t care. Whatever, dude.