Widmer Hefeweizen

AFFORDABILITY: The Widmer Hefeweizen is not the cheapest beer on the market, and the fact that it’s name sounds like a perverse sexual move a balding old bear homosexual dude would do to me after knocking me out with some animal tranquilizer in my drink, I don’t like it, not even slightly. The sides of my thighs get bruised just thinking about it. 0 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: I was playing the Super Mario Wii while drinking these motherfuckers, so I was too preoccupied with conquering castles to truly get the full, straight to the gullet effect of the Widmer Heffalumples. But, judging from how slowly I felt like drinking, even after boosting up with multiple extra lives, I would say the Heffalumples is lacking in the superior taste bud stimulation necessary to get your proper back road drunk driving swerve on the budget cuts second gen asphalts. 1 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: STOP THE PRESSES! I had a couple Widmer Hefeweizens last weekend out because it was the only good beer on tap really other than stupid Starr Hill Jomo Lager, and they brought it to me in the big ol’ pint glass with an orange slice in it and it was such an aesthetically pleasing color and tasted great with the orange in it and I enjoyed it so thoroughly that it made me think perhaps I gave it a raw deal the first time, or didn’t just drink it right. Nonetheless, I shall arbitrarily pump up their remaining categories to atone for this change in my heart’s attitude towards the Widmer Hefeweizen. But to be honest, their label is not that bad to me, as it looks like an outer space alien’s soccer jersey. Or futbol jersey. (Side note: it is okay to take notes constantly about everything at my new job because it makes it look like I care, so I do. Yesterday we were getting some sales pitch from some dude who I think might’ve been a Brazilian scientist about a machine we were gonna buy and he said, “I’m not a radioactivity guy, to be honest.” I wrote it down right away because that seemed a funny thing to hear someone say to you in your life, and no one thought it odd I wrote it down because they probably thought I was taking relevant notes for later when usually I’m just doodling out stupid shit to put into words elsewhere at later time when not confined by circumstances.) 5 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: I'm not even gonna look it up because I'm sure it's in actuality owned by Anheuser Busch and the grandson of a Nazi scientist smuggled to Brazil by the U.S. government, and he's the reason Becks bought Budweiser, and now they also smuggle South American sex slaves into high end European brothels because the regular clientele have gotten kinda sick of all the Russian girls. 1 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: So what is it, the holiday beer left in my fridge that I hated upon, or the on-tap pint I boughted with a slice of orange that I loved? Shit or perfection? Very easy, braddah, it's both. Yin and yang man, everything is 69ing with itself to achieve that perfect balance, the snake in the grass eating his own tail. They used to carve that shit into cave walls before they even knew people could make magazines out of it. Everything is good and bad. You can get really affordable mountain bikes for your kid at the new Wal-Mart Supercenter and people at Whole Foods are scrunchfaced assholes. But you can get organical foods for cheap at white people grocery stores, but cheaper American grown ground beef at the ghetto supermarket. Balance and chaos. Which means this beer's short term interaction in my life, hitting both ends of things, at different times, free in my fridge while I was unemployed (and it sucked) and at a premium price at the stupid restaurant in Scottsville with an orange in it making me feel frou-frou as fuck (and it ruled), it is perfect. So 5 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 2 & 2/5 STARS!