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In de Verenigde Staten is het ambachtelijke brouwen, craft brewing, wat groter dan in Nederland. Zo groot zelfs dat ze zichzelf presenteren in een filmpje. Erg Amerikaans, je ziet de vlaggen al bijna wapperen met de bombastische achtergrondmuziek. Maar toch, aan het eind denk je: verdomme, dat moeten wij ook.
Die overtuiging en dat geluk. Dat moet je uitstralen, vind ik. Al met al best een sterke manier om jezelf als beroepsgroep neer te zetten.
Dus: kleine brouwers van Nederland: wanneer zien we jullie terug in een filmpje?
Jeuzus…. het enige dat nog ontbreekt is het aanroepen van god.
Moet bij ‘ microbreweries’ toch altijd weer denken aan Denis Leary: Beer, same thing now. Who knew that beer-flavored beer would be a special order? You had this experience yet? Huh? You’re walking around in a neighborhood you don’t live in, but you’ve seen a million times before, and you see a brand new bar that looks like an Irish bar, right? You walk in with your friend. Still looks like an Irish bar, there’s a bartender behind the bar. You walk up and go, “Hey, how’s about a couple of Budweisers?” “I can’t do that.” “Why not?” “Well, because this isn’t really a bar.” “Oh, well what is it?” “This is a microbrewery.” “Oh really, asshole? Well, why don’t you go in the back and microbrew me up a batch of fucking Budweiser then, okay? Because this is America, and I am very thirsty.
Microbrewery… you can’t even order a shot of whiskey anymore without some special little story being attached to it. You want a boiler… that’s a tough word or two. “Gimme a shot of whiskey.” “Oh, that’s not just whiskey.” “Okay, what is it?” “That’s 182-year-old oak barrel family recipe sipping whiskey.” “Oh really? Watch this. CLANG! Gimme another one, alright? Then gimme another, and I’m gonna sip the whole fucking bottle, asshole, alright? And get two bowls of pretzels out here, too! Shithead!” Special family recipe… you know what, sip this. Sip this right here.
My brother-in-law comes over, last Christmas. “Hey man, look what I got you for Christmas.” “What’s that?” “Special Sam Adams beer dispenser, man.” “Oh really?” “Yeah, six different flavors.” “You know what? Put it in the fridge. Put it in the bottom of the fridge and bury it.” (whispers under breath) Fucking asshole…
So months go by, of course, right? Then I’m watching the hockey playoffs, I’m eating pretzels and I’m thirsty and I’m thinking “Oh man! Oh, the team’s tight!” I go up, I open the refrigerator door, and I can see a beer out of the corner of my eye. I grab it, I pull the cap off, I’ve almost scored and… SPPPPPP! Cranberry ale. Cranberry nut crunch fucking ale! Let me tell you something folks: cranberries and beer do not go together, okay? One’s for bladder infections, one’s for getting drunk. Yes! Yes! I’m forty, I don’t need to be standing in my kitchen tasting cranberries during a hockey game.
I take a look at the label of my beer. You know who’s on my beer label? Santa Claus is on my beer label! Santa–I swear to God! You know, Mike Ditka can be on my beer label, Dick Butkis, Cindy Crawford, they can all be on my beer label, not fucking Santa, okay? Let’s put the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy on there too, call it Pussy Ale while you’re at it, go ahead. Oh, my God…
Pete’s Brew, Pete’s Wicked Brew, Pete’s Wicked Summer Brew, who the FUCK is Pete? Fuck Pete!
Comment by Maarten — November 18, 2010 @ 17:49
[...] beseffen ze dat zelf ook. Daarom kwam er een parodie. Let op, kijk wel eerst het origineel. Dan is deze echt [...]
Pingback by I am a craft brewer parodie op bestetotnutoe.nl » bestetotnutoe.nl — November 26, 2010 @ 09:22