My dermatologist and I have an understanding. He stops scolding me about staying out of the sun, I come in every 3 months and let him freeze off the pre-cancerous growths. I stay black and beautiful, he bills the insurance company. Win win.
His practice sends occasional emails around on skin-related problems, from which the following is excerpted:
Phytodermatitis happens when lime juice on the skin is exposed to the sun. It can turn hands and arms splotchy red or brown, and the color can last for weeks or months.
But in a recent issue of Archives of Dermatology, Dr. Scott L. Flugman warns that the way some partiers drink Corona with lime juice may be responsible for the condition’s spread from the usual spots (like the hands) to more unexpected places like chests and bellies.
“…When the beer bottle is inverted, the carbonation in the beer frequently causes a mixture of beer and lime juice to spray from the bottle despite the drinker’s attempt to seal the bottle mouth with the thumb. This common drinking practice may result in lime juice being sprayed over a wide area of skin, especially in a patient who is shirtless by a beach or pool,” he says in the article.
Let’s be blunt, concise, and brutally honest opinionated:
Anybody who drinks Corona deserves whatever skin rashes, bellyaches, loose bowels, bad breath, and hangovers they get. Corona is a garbage beer. I can only conclude that its brilliant marketing campaign in this country has bamboozled millions of beer drinkers, not the most discerning consumers, after all.
Look: there are many decent Mexican beers — Pacifico, Dos Equis (dark), Modelo — hell, I drink Tecate (exclusively from the can; can’t explain that) in the summer when I want a fast splash of cold and refreshing. But Corona tastes like ass, which (a) explains the lime, and (b) leads us to Point 2:
Any beer served with citrus is fundamentally flawed. This is one reason why Belgian beer is liquid smegma, and its American imitators like Blue Moon and Shock Top look, smell, and taste like powdered Tang. You want citrus, order a fruit cup. Beer should taste like beer, not some Vegan’s stubbled armpit. I have spoken.
So I’m delighted this practice is causing its fans considerable discomfort, because this nasty malt beverage abuse offends my sensitive goddam sensibilities, goddammit. Spread the word, if not the rash.
On a brighter note, Morgellon’s disease turns out to be imaginary as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s fidelity, both of which give parasites a bad name.