The Spacemen 3 are some good sounds, especially if your brain is rumble stripping through 12 ounces of cough syrup or 250 mg of vicodin, but you should already know that by now. So I’m gonna call an audible at the line of scrimmage since I took some old shit off a busted and forgotten laptop and found a file full of unfinished bullshit. Here is a beer review I never got done, but it starts strong…
Ellis Island Amber Ale
AFFORDABILITY: I had a convention to go to for my work that was in the Paris hotel on the Las Vegas Strip, where we got there two days early. I can tell you right now that the Las Vegas Strip is the complete antithesis to my internal molecular structure. It felt gross and fake and I felt like a goddamned fool for even being associated with it. Not that anyone would see me or know, but just the fact my mind's eye was seeing me walk through that, I knew it was disappointed in myself. Anyways, if you've ever been to the corporate flypaper that is the Las Vegas Strip, you know that you can't do anything for less than $10, and it all is vaguely directioned so that you end up walking right through the middle of something bright and obnoxious and that will take your money with the false hopes of giving you it all back tenfold. Our convention was inside the hotel, so I had just about had enough, and decided to just go for a walk in the opposite direction, away from the lights. And one long Las Vegas block away from my hotel was a shitty old casino called Ellis Island, with three decades of smoke staining the air, and an outside patio area where some Mexican dude was cooking whole half chickens and racks of ribs, for like $7. And it came with corn on the cob and actual homemade coleslaw. But the kicker is they microbrew their own beer here, with a room full of big giant vats you walk through to get to the outside area, percolating away. They serve you your beer in those 16 oz. clear plastic Solo cups, and they're $1.50 each. Even if I hadn't been in the middle of soulless Las Vegas, this would've been an awesome fucking deal that would become a regular part of my yearly life. But being it was only a block away from the goddamned hotel I was staying in that served a $77 hamburger made of angus beef and topped with lobster claw, it was the most amazing bargain ever. Plus it cleansed my soul a little of all the ick. The fucking ick... it is everywhere there on the Strip. 9 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: I had a hearty meal, slammed three beers real fast, left a five dollar tip, and still had some change to waste in the low end slot machines. And there was a perfect wobble to my swagger as I left empty-handed and full-bellied. 4 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC:
CORPORATE MASTER:
OVERALL AMBIANCE:
TOTAL RATING:
STEAL "Soul 1"
NEXT UP: Damn, more Yelawolf? What the fuck is wrong with me? I guess it was two months ago!
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