It's Pumpkin Beer Season, Motherfuckers
Inspired by the fall literary classic, “It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers”.
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on a beer brewed with pumpkin, pumpkin pie spices…shit, even brewed with the top part of the pumpkin that I like to call “nature’s fucking handle.” Cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, Sporty Spice – the more spice the better when it comes to my beer. I want to crack the cap off that fucker and get punched in the face with a bouquet that makes me think of nothing but fall, flannel and football.
I want that fall flavor to be so strong that I’m sitting next to Billy Crystal on a bench in Central fucking Park surrounded by the most vibrant goddamn leaves that God’s green earth has ever seen. Fuck Sally and her stupid fucking hat. Harry’s going to see me with my pumpkin beer and want his life with me to start as soon as fucking possible. But I’m not stopping with him, no sir. Then, I’m going to bust onto that Fighting Irish field with thousands of fans chanting my goddamn name. Bye Felicia, and bye Rudy.
And you know who I want to meet? I want to meet the fucking genius who was the first to toss some pumpkin into a batch of fucking beer. I want to shake his hand heartily and thank him from the bottom of my cozy, candy corn-shaped heart. He knew that all a fall beer needed was the hard and hard-to-get-to meat of a motherfucking pumpkin. Fuck that shiny orange rind. Fuck those slimy ass seeds. He wanted meat and he went for it.
You see, there’s plenty of other fall shit he could have thrown in there: Zucchini, brats, cranberry sauce, a deep-fried turkey, those Halloween Reeses cups that are in the shape of pumpkins. Some loser probably even came up to him and asked “how do you like them apples?” But he stuck to his guns and went patches over orchards, all day, every day. “Taste my Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”
And bitch all you want about pumpkin beers coming out too early. Pumpkin beers on shelves in August? That’s just nature’s way of making sure you’re ready for a cornucopia of fall flavor jam-packed into each and every 12-oz bottle. You’re saying you don’t want to be fully prepared for the moment it’s goes from 95 to 62 degrees? Clearly you were never a boy scout…and have never been prepared for a goddamn thing in your life. I won’t be saving you a seat around my roaring fucking fire. And you can be damn sure you won’t be borrowing the stainless steel marshmallow roasting set I got last year at Target…ON SALE.
And to those of you who think there are just too many pumpkin beers out there? Fuck you. This is America and variety is the spice of fucking life. (But pumpkin spice Cheerios? Those can go fuck themselves.)
Drink up, fuckheads!