It was an indecisive day at the wall of beer. As I sat contemplating what to buy, my local beer pusher, Sally, remarked how many of the beers on the wall seemed to have a devil, evil, end of the world theme. Perhaps the brewers of America know something we don’t? I figured, well, if I have to go, I should heed the message at hand. Theme week! What better way to understand brewmaster revelations than to drink the beers themselves. For the next couple weeks or until the world ends, whichever comes first, I will be subjecting myself to and revealing to you … the Beers of Evil.

This first beer I chose, some french* job named Belzebuth, immediately grabbed my attention with its gratuitous marketing. Taking up most of the neck was the massive announcement that this beer was 13% alcohol. Savoring dreams of being piss drunk after just one bottle, I poured the bottle into a glass and realized the second thing evil about this beer.

It didn’t fill the glass! (See the picture to the right). I knew the french were annoying, but to make me angry before I’ve even had a single sip was a special accomplishment. I soon discovered however, that the bottler was actual doing me a favor.

A little bitter, but still excited, I took a sip. Reaction: “WTF is this?”. It was like I was chewing it. Full of all sorts of heavy flavors, like gulping a rotten fruit salad. I was a trooper though and resolved to get through a bit more. Thankfully the next sip didn’t taste so rotten. As a matter of fact, it didn’t taste like beer at all. It was more like tonic water with a bunch of whiskey poured in. The kind of whiskey that comes in a plastic bottle. Evil indeed. This stuff was so nasty that even though I poured it out after only three small swigs, the boozy hobo aftertaste stuck with me for the rest of the evening.

If one can call this beer, then I wouldn’t hesitate to call it about the worst beer ever. Quoth Mike Myers: “It’s not just evil, its ‘e-veel’. Like the fru-its of the de-veel”

In the ongoing frosty-battle between Full Moon and New Belgium, the leader of the pack is constantly changing. But like a presidential primary, based on last nights polling results New Belgium has delivered a mighty smack down with its “Mothership Wit”. It’s light, a touch spicy, and has a clear crisp taste that is very wheat brew-y.

Fellow reviewer skylark (whose wife recently gave birth to a bouncing baby boy), and I were having an argument … er … discussion once about his assertion that New Belgium beers all taste the same. Having now tried all but 1, I have to say that Mothership Wit tastes nothing like 1554, and publicly decry that he’s just bitter that New Belgium doesn’t make IPAs.

I also have to give this beer extra kudos for being organic. Up here in the land of Birkenstocks and hybrid cars, labeling things organic gives you extra points with the “boutique grocery store” crowd. Even the hippies my kids played drums with in the park would approve. Not of showering perhaps, but drinking this beer for sure. Then recycling the bottle to water your “medicinal” herbs, man.

With his hairy bare feet and a furry white coat, the Yeti searches for true refreshment while hiking up to the top of his peak. There, sitting in the cold, French alpine stream he finds a cluster of bottles tied together and dangling from a branch. Looking to the left, he sees a couple of men fishing, oblivious of the crime he is about to commit. Grabbing the beer booty, he flings the bottles over his frosty shoulder and continues his journey up the steep mountainside. He only stops one more time to pick up a frozen Jedi before entering his humble cave dwelling. He sets his whining dinner aside and takes a chug from his stolen brewski.
“Oh crepe! This is good stuff!” He finishes the bottle in a couple of swigs.
“Ben.” His dinner responds.
“Shut up you, Ken-ig-got! Before I fart in your general direction!” The yeti slaps his hairy head a few times before returning to his beer.

Unfortunately the Jedi overtakes our French Yetti with a glowing phallic weapon, and the rest is history, (or the future in a galaxy far far away).

Lucky for me, I was able to get my own paws on this good stuff. What first caught my eye was the handsome hairy snow creature smiling at me in the beer isle, but then the yeti on the bottle was pretty cute too. This beer is a blonde with a whole lotta fruit brewed inside. It is a great beer to pair up with a summer meal in the warm evening dusk, or to have with blueberry pancakes in the morning. It is refreshing, and not too light. With 8% alcohol, I was feeling pretty good after one bottle. I recommend it, and be sure to toast the yeti who discovered it as well.