Sol Cerveza

AFFORDABILITY: Sol tends to be the cheapest of the Mexicanola beers in my local gringo grocery spots. I have often thought of Corona as Mexican Budweiser in that it's not really any different than anything else but it has lots of commercials and it sponsors Nascar (well, Corona sponsors lucha libre, which I like to assume is Mexican Nascar to help me perpetuate this myth in my head that Mexico is a magical, wonderful creature). Mexican beer, it has seemed to me, does not have the natural alcoholic content to get you drunk in all environments, but when it's hot as fuck the skunky nature of the Mexican beer, when properly tinged with some fresh lime (none of that pre-limed bullshit they sell nowadays), is some most proper shit. Which of course, as I thought that, begs the question why the fuck am I drinking it in the middle of September when it feels like the middle of October in central Virginia? Probably because it was stacked up in a center display and was one of the cheapest 12-packs that fit my retarded constantly shifting parameters of what's acceptable and not acceptable. A solid quatro out of cinco. (That’s 4 out of 5, para los gringos.)
DESTROYABILITY: Again, the delivery of drunkenness by Mexicanola cervezerias is questioned by me, but just as I thought that, some cumbia rebajada came up on my shuffle machine, and I realized that fuck it man. If you are already destroyed, beer doesn’t need to overdo it on top of that. Perspective, bro. I am naturally comfortable sitting on a milk crate or driving a vehicle with broken tie rods and mismatched fenders 200 miles with a empty gallon bottle of wine full of nickels and dimes for gas money, so I don’t need the supersonic alcohol content. My brain is probably firing up at around a 0.05 naturally. 4 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: It is a simple and beautiful bottle, clear to see the piss-cohol contained inside, with a nice white sunbeam dooda thing going on, and that bright red SOL kicking it as well. As a teenager, I did a bit of acid catfishing at night drinking Sols like crazy, so I've studied this bottle with an abundance of hazy attention, by firelight underneath a full moon with the stars above charting my future just I've never learned to read them correctly. Plus they were blurring around under the influence of the blue unicorn four-panel blotter, so I couldn't have deciphered their meaning even if I could have focused and read it like the ancient mariner. So staring into a Sol's clear glass, I not only see the simple Mexican label on a sturdy bottle, I see those memories, of my carefree and reckless youth, which some of those forks left instead of forking right at certain crossroads, they may not have been the best choices. But they got me here, with a mind full of strange thangs, a quiet house with three beautiful daughters of assorted ages sleeping upstairs in the cool fall air from the open windows that need reglazing anyways, and a yard full of country - chickens and horseshoes and tall grass and some broken things and stacked things and packratted things. Thus, whether good or bad, it is what it is, and that's as close to perfect as I can get. 7 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: Sol is Mexican, and brought to America by probable Mafiosos. One thing I dig - and this should’ve been mentioned above under label aesthetic, but I don’t go back bro, straight ahead, always and forever - is the list of countries with it written in that language. That means it’s a worldly company. I hope that with the rise of the Mexican drug cartels, them dudes can at least launder themselves into the corporate world, although I guess you don’t really need to launder money in a semi-lawless land. But judging by the great choices on the La Tienda store shelves, I would assume the Mexican corporation is far superior to the American corporation I am used to dealing with. Hell, it might be making wires hooked up to lead paint with a battery to light up a Rudolph nose as a Christmas ornament. Or it might be making Coke use real sugar because corn syrup is for zombies. 5 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: Sol makes me feel good. I am not completely ignorant; I understand that “sol” is Spicanese for the sunshine. But it is no coincidence in my mind that “sol” be sounding like “soul”. From remembering night time acidhead catfishing escapades to meandering down the Rapidan River with my old boss in his inflatable fishing boats after good rains put it all to flood stage, Sol beer is a good-timed beer, pumping up the heart of a good-timed man. 9 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 5 & 4/5 STARS!