Shiner Bock

AFFORDABILITY: I think it was either "All Bock Beers Are On Sale" week a few weeks back, or I just got hung up on the word "bock" as I am known to do. I'm a word nerd, bro, so sometimes shit just flows into my brain and gets stuck there and I conjure it up into a thousand different sentence structures. But this Shiner Bock, which I initially believe to be some fake micro style of some megabrewery fermented from the blood of the poor, was on sale at some point. It wasn't that expensive, relatively speaking, but I just balanced my bank book today and realized my tax refund wealth is gone, and now I'm just another broke ass fucker who can't go out to dinner like the rest of the world. Or at least the rest of the American world. The rest of the world doesn't even eat dinner. They are either fasting for their vengeful Lord or have flies hanging out on their eyeballs. 3 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: Shiner Bock has a beautiful yellow label with a goat on the motherfucker, so it makes me drink faster, and thus kill enough brain cells fast enough to try not to slur the words when I am telling my wife I paid the Best Buy bill. I know the label aesthetic category comes up separately, but whatever man. This is my gimmick. 3 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: I do not know the correlation between bock and goat, but between the Yuengling Bock Beer label and this harvest gold yellow mountain goat head label, it is clearly a winning drunkard meme, tailor made for shitty t-shirts. Beer and goats are two things I can get down with, and ideally would like to have be a part of the periphery of my life for all of this one, and to be buried with me in my home-welded pyramid-shaped camper trailer after death. I know it will not though, because the dreams of the celebration of my death are bizarre and outlandish, and everybody tends to get bogged down in the confining nature of their personal emotions. 4 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: I vaguely remember looking up Shiner Bock and it's made by somebody in Texas that has a Shiner Fest, which conjures up old men in go-karts racing around town, getting drunk, and punching each other like bare knuckles fighters in dress pants from the Goodwill. At one point, me and my two oldest children were in Manchester, New Hampshire for the first time ever as my wife had a conference in Ruraltalia, New Hampshire, and we rolled into Manchester and it was some sort of holiday they don't celebrate in the South, like Old Yankee Day or Labor Day or something, and there had been a parade that we seriously had just missed, because old yankee dudes were loading their go-karts into trailers and the backs of giant ass pick-up trucks, and me and the kids were like, "Aww... we missed the parade." I would imagine the Shiner Fest of Shiner Bocks somewhere in Texas is pretty much the exact same thing, except with a different accent, and for breakfast they use sausage instead of ham in Texas because you need spices to make the shittier parts of the pig taste more good. I will say, at this point, even if Shiner Bock is actually owned by some multi-national corporation that destroys the ozone by shooting aborted fetuses of extinct eskimo tribes into space with hazardous waste duct taped to their bodies, that company at least still supports this stupid festival in somewhere of Texas. Although, to be honest, I may not have actually saw that briefly and might have just made it up in my dreams. Usually when I dream, I'm reading for some reason. Or having to piss really bad, but I'm back in high school, and every bathroom has no walls and the toilets are dirty as fuck and I'm barefoot but when I finally find one I can tip-toe my way to to start pissing, it starts to fill up and overflow because I have to piss so much. At this point, I usually realize I have to piss in real life and should wake up, but I also realize what if I wake up and it's like half an hour til the alarm clock is set to go off, which means I'll go piss, come back to bed, and not get back to sleep because I know the alarm's just gonna go off in a few minutes. So then I just decide to stay asleep and if my dream makes me piss the bed, whatever. At least I'll be well-rested. 4 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: Hey, I have no gripes. This whole bock beer that sprung up into my consciousness like an internet meme and then disappeared just as quickly, I have no problem with it. I am sure that often times I make up large parts of the world around me, either outright or at least in the way I see it filtered into through my brain. Shiner Bock is something that I would probably not go out of my way to purchase on my own all the time, but I might sometimes. And if I went somewhere where people who only have one party every seven years were hosting so they had a big cooler full of expensive beer and this was in it next to some Newcastles and Widmer Hefeweizens and Becks Darks and so on, I’d grab this with gusto yet mixed with nonchalance so as to not tip off other mysterious undercover drunkards as to how enjoyable it might be. That’s about the highest compliment a beer that is massively produced yet still too expensive for my weekly shopping habits could ever hope to receive. 4 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 3 & 3/5 STARS!