Good idea: cherry-flavored, wheat lager. Bad idea: marketing said lager as a “breakfast beer.” [But[ some are criticizing a New Zealand brewery, called Moa, for touting their newest lager as a beverage to drink instead of champagne during a “champagne breakfast.”
The problem, according to health watch advisors, isn’t so much the drinking part, but specifically the early morning drinking that the branding is encouraging–which they describe as pathological behavior.
Christine Rogan, an Alcohol Healthwatch advisor feels that the company is acting irresponsibly. “Here we have fools seeking to profit from encouraging the behaviour,” she says. “This sort of nonsense is not a reflection of New Zealand’s poor attitude to alcohol, it is an example of what is driving it.” — NewsFeed.com
Wrong! Fail! * penalty buzzer sound * Flag on the play!
The problem is assuredly NOT “beer for breakfast,” which among many of us hairy-chested heavy-hung real men American types is not even an issue, but cherry fucking flavored fucking wheat beer!!!! THAT’S the fucking problem!
Drinking beer in the morning isn’t “pathological.” You want “pathological”? Beer flavored like cough medicine is “pathological.” Beer made from wheat, rice, dandelion greens, or seaweed is fucking “pathological.” How can they even fucking sell this foo-foo swill in New Zealand?
Dieticians agree: There’s nothing fucking wrong with beer for breakfast! Nutritionally, it’s a step or two above Grape Nuts or Post Toasties — Less Sugar! More Protein! Tastes Great! — and it’s a whole lot easier to consume while you’re rushing to shit/shave/shower and get dressed to go to work, not to mention drive. Don’t you hate it when your office mate spills yoghurt on her pants and sits there fermenting for 8 dismal hours, smelling like ass?
Cherry Beer. Yo, maybe that’s a good name for a pole-dancer, but when it comes to anything other than douche backwash I swallow, peddle it elsewhere. Your breakfast beer needs to be as strong and confident in flavor as Guinness Foreign Extra– open the eyes, stiffen the dick, and start the day with a gritted teeth and a fightin’ attitude — especially if you need to negotiate I-95, and tell the boss to pound sand first thing in the morning.
Breakfast Beer! The Cereal Killer! Good for the breath, too.
No, this is a sick fucking joke. Cherry wheat beer sounds like an abortion cooked up by a third-rate brewer –Sam Adams comes to mind — for raised-pinky RedSox fans to gently sip while their season evaporates like semen on their smooth white palms. Across the straits, Aussies clutching their Fosters and Stout are laughing their asses off, and rightly so. As for me, I’d rather break my fast on a pumpernickel bagel with Milk of Magnesia and vodka — you know, a Phillips Screwdriver. Salut! L’Chaim! Long Live Bok!