In teasing this little blog entry, I mentioned that I would be presenting the results of an exhaustive 25 year plus research project into Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer. The can and bottle label have hardly changed since the award of the blue ribbon, calling it “America’s Best” at the World Columbian Expo in Chicago in 1893.

A lot of time has passed since then, and many drunkards have fallen prey to the dark malevolent powers of the amber fluid. I drink at what some of the travelling executives for Pabst Breweries once called “a shrine” to the liquid, located up here on the waterfront in Portland, Maine.

Here are a few observations of that double-decade of debauchery.

First off, the human body, particularly, the stomach, seems to have some vast repository of storage space for Pabst. The alcohol makes its way directly to the brain, and the rest is compressed throughout the body in what surely was the genius behind the idea of natural gas fracking. I’ve put away at least 7 pitchers of the stuff at a single sitting, and have no idea where it all ended up.

The alcohol going to the brain part is the confusing part of the issue for me. Not only does PBR go directly to the brain, it seems that it focuses in directly on several logic centers of the brain.

The first logic center it goes after is the part that controls the tongue. This beverage and its yeasty aftermath tend to make people shout out and mutter the dumbest, most vile shit you’ve ever heard in your life. I originally suspected that the genetic damage done to the brain is passed down through generations, and the end result is the Tea Party menace that we today are confronted with.

Here now, some doofus-proof tips for taking home the prize in a variety of scoring situations:

She’s dancing alone in a dive bar:
Like my dear old grandma always used to say, nothing takes the shine off a one-night stand faster than a baby. Or an STD. Or a baby with an STD. Luckily you can avoid such things just by tossing a bag over Mister Happy at the right moment. Why are we jumping to how to protect your penis during sex? Because a woman dancing alone in a dive bar is like that jar of mayonaise in your fridge. If you want to have sex with it, it’s pretty much up to you, you just have to deal with the mess.

She’s laughing alone in a dive bar:
There’s a common term used to describe a woman sitting all alone cackling to herself in a dive bar: Homeless. So what you need to do is move in quickly before she gets tossed. Tell her you’ve got cans of tuna back at your place. Or, just that you have a place.

She’s laughing alone in a lounge:
Clearly she’s got a sense of humor, so walk over to her and kiss her. If she freaks out say, “Sorry, I thought you were my wife. You look exactly like her.” Then she’ll probably cuss you out a blue streak, and that’s when you say, “Damn, you even sound exactly like her.” Even if you don’t get the girl, that’s some funny stuff there.

Click here to read the rest at FoodRepublic.com

I rolled into Mac’s Tavern in Olde City Philadelphia seeking shelter from the sun. The yellowy ball of fiery fury in the sky was giving off hot, hot heat that day. It was enough to melt a pimp’s heart. I’m talking Philly pimps, too, yo – the coldheartedest pimps of them all.

Mac’s is a swell little watering hole co-owned by Rob McElhenney and Kaitlin Olson, aka Mac and Sweet Dee from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” They’re dear, dear, dear friends of mine, the “Sunny” cast, as you can clearly see in the accompanying picture of us looking all BFF-like in LA.

So I ordered a pint of Philly’s own Kenzinger beer, made in the rather obscure kölsch style. Light-bodied, pale and slightly bitter. Like my most recent ex-girlfriend. Affordable, too. (The beer, not my ex. She cost a fortune.)

“It’s Africa-hot out there,” I opined to an ebony beauty seated two stools down. Khadija, it turns out, was a native of Sierra Leone.

“Oh, no,” she corrected me, predictably getting up to leave. “It never gets this hot in Africa. This… this is Hell-hot.”

The beer cooled me down in short order, so I ordered another. And another. About six or seven Kenzingers in, a thought occurred to me: if beer could douse Satan’s flames so effectually, perhaps beer might cure some of the world’s other ills.

Dan and Stretch welcome drink maker extraordinaire Steve Calabro from RED O, the Hottest New Spot in L.A. Steve explains how to integrate gardening and cocktailing,.. and yes, that's as cool as it sounds.

RED O Restaurant with Mexican cuisine by Rick Bayless features menus designed by the renowned chef, best known for his highly rated PBS series “Mexico—One Plate at a Time,” and from his six cookbooks. In August 2009, he was also crowned the winner of Bravo’s “Top Chef Masters,” beating out 23 other culinary luminaries. Executing the menus at Red O is Executive Chef Michael Brown, whose extensive résumé includes working at Pinot Bistro in Los Angeles, opening 5 Dudley in Venice, as well as working as chef de cuisine at Opaline under the direction of David Lentz and Suzanne Goin. In addition, Brown worked at Wolfgang Puck Catering, was executive chef at Vert Brasserie, and helped open Wilson, in Culver City.

Club promoters Nate Poznick and James Hall reveal what goes on behind the scenes at some of LA’s hottest nightclubs, including the infamous Voyeur, where the RNC got in a little trouble. Poznick nd Hall offer insider tips on getting past the velvet ropes and into the VIP section. And find out why Andy Dick is always getting booted from nightclubs.