Guinness Extra Stout

AFFORDABILITY: Guinness is expensive, but I needed the big bottles and freecycle ain't coming up with shit. 2 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: I don't know... I'm not completely convinced you can get drunk off of Guinness. Almost every time in my life I've gotten fucked up involving Guinness, it was a good back drop laying the groundwork for smoking a couple of bowls, which kicked in the super destruction like a pair of feet nicknamed Morton and Gibson. You can't high marks as a destroyable beer working a complementary angle. 2 out of 5 though.
LABEL AESTHETIC: I got two of these the other week and the labels were upside down. I didn't even notice, but my wife asked if I did it (she used to always flip beer labels when the bottle would sweat when people wasn't looking), but I didn't. Then I bought a couple more this week and those labels, at a completely different store about four counties away from the other store had the same upside down labels. That means they're doing it on purpose, which is gay as fuck. Unless it's not on purpose and I can sell one of you chumps a bottle of this inside the ebays for $20 a pint plus six. 1 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: I'm sure Guinness is a big British company, but it's built upon alcoholic products, so I can't fault them for that, regardless of how many 1/32nd Irish metrosexuals in America swear by their products. 4 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: I associated Guinness with two things. Firstly, a gay friend of mine in Richmond, who as he's gotten older is all snide and seems to hate to see you even when he's glad, all snarling and angry and snarky about everything and everybody. The second is my bro-in-law's first wedding where his financees family put us up, and her folks were doctors and rich and all that, but they're youngest son was about to go to college and be a fuck up, so mostly I sat on leather couches, drank Guinness, and watched pro basketball with him. We would've played mad video games too if it wasn't for stuck up fuckers not wanting to go that route. Fucking rich people. They're house was like a big wooden study, like some old British dude on an episode of Masterpiece Theatre would rock, but they had a TV and shit in there, and leather couches, and that was the TV room. Still, both memories are harshed with negativity. 2 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 2 &1/5 STARS!