By: A Bottle of Ice-Cold, Refreshing Beer.
Hegseth!!!!!!! Two words, buddy!
Frosty.
Brewski.
Then three more – Chug, chug, chug!
Pete, dude, you are fuckin’ rocking it. So. Fuckin. Hard.
And I get it, man, no one parties harder than a guy with a looooooooooottttttt of unresolved war trauma from the shit you saw in Iraq. And in this specific instance, by “parties harder” I mean, has a serious, judgment-impairing alcohol dependency.
In other words: Set Your Party Animals for Defcon Hegseth, because we are getting blitzed tonight.
And here’s the thing, this isn’t just bias on my part – as a freshly opened bottle of beer – chilled to the perfect temperature – with the puff of fine mist that accompanies the so, so satisfying sound of the twist of release.
The way I’m talking to you right now, you might think I’ve got a conflict of interest. But that’s not it.
It’s cause I know you. You’re not a sweet drink guy. None of that sugary cola mixer. And wine’s not doing it – or cocktails either. It’s about drinks for grown-ups. The bitterness of hops. The smoke of a single malt.
And it’s more than just the sound. It’s the droplets of condensation, forming like beads of sweat on the glistening brown surface of my bottle. I feel good in your hand. The weight of it. The soft pressure under your fingertips.
There’s still so many possibilities. Slows sips – nursing it. Or an enthusiastic, open-throated guzzle. Or splashed out of taps, kegs and barrels into jugs, mugs, glasses and tankards. Maybe it’s to raise a toast in celebration or in condolence- but it’s always attached to a blessing, to offset the curse.
You know exactly how it’s going to go down – like line of poetry that always stuck with you.
When you’re hot, your mouth is dry and dusty, when you take that first sip, you know how every exquisite micromoment will follow. There’s the cold of the glass on your lip, then the splash of that amber liquid, alive over your teeth and tongue. The resinous bitterness startles your senses as the cold liquid slakes thirst like a rain-driven river splashing over a dry riverbed, which, having started, gets better. The world is reborn anew.
I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of pressure you’re under right now. You’ve got a tough boss, the press aren’t helping. Geopolitics isn’t my bag – I’ve only ever been a cool, refreshing bottle of beer.
And hey – I get it. You had to take some time. But I’m here for you when you need me.
Yours,
A thirst-quenching beer.
