Hobo Jungle
I remember Schaefer from my military days. When I was stationed in Davisville, R.I., we had four beers in our machines in the barracks. Naturally there was Bud, Old Milwaukee, Schaefer, and PBR @ $.50 a can. The extra money they made on us was used by Special Services to have parties aaaannnnddd, to provide more beer! Nothing personal, Frank, but I thought the Schaefer was canal water. The beer I grew up on was Schmidt's, of Philadelphia. I remember fishing the Buffalo Creek sitting under the PRR bridge getting shitfaced when I was 17 years old. Great thing about night fishing. You could get loaded, sick, and sober again before you went home! There was a short stint of the malt liquer thing before I went to the service. Anybody remember Colt 45 and Mustang Malt Liquer?
If you agree with the Progressives, it's freedom of speech. If you disagree, it's hate speech. There are no alternatives.
Lads, I am drinking RIGHT NOW a FRESH (fresh as in weeks out of the brewery) Labatt 50. And these puppies are the finest swamp whippets you ever tasted.
WE're talking FRESH. I'm not excited though. Not in the least. I always use caps carelessly. It's only my favorite beer that I haven't tasted since 2005. 3 (THREE) cases are chilling in my shop.
Jon, I don't think it was the changed recipe that killed Schlitz, it was those ****** clowns.
Mitch, are you black?
San, I thought you were joking about the Champaign stuff. Funk me if it isn't true.
WE're talking FRESH. I'm not excited though. Not in the least. I always use caps carelessly. It's only my favorite beer that I haven't tasted since 2005. 3 (THREE) cases are chilling in my shop.
Jon, I don't think it was the changed recipe that killed Schlitz, it was those ****** clowns.
Mitch, are you black?
San, I thought you were joking about the Champaign stuff. Funk me if it isn't true.
Tramp, why would you ask me such a thing? Is it because of the malt liquer thing? Not that I'm offended, mind you, but I'm as white as rice. Malt liquer was about the same price as regular beer when I was a pup, but provided quite a bit more bang for the buck.
If you agree with the Progressives, it's freedom of speech. If you disagree, it's hate speech. There are no alternatives.
on, I don't think it was the changed recipe that killed Schlitz, it was those ****** clowns.
Tramp!!!! LMFAO!!!!
DAIzzieieie!!!!!!! Always a pleaSuRe when you poSt ## I only drink malt liquer when I'm trying to kill myself. It has'nt worked so far. At least that's what I think. If I see a white light, I'm fuckin' going for it.
-
Frank in Steam
- Posts: 122
- Joined: Sun Mar 21, 2004 2:06 pm
-
Frank53
Mitch wrote: Nothing personal, Frank, but I thought the Schaefer was canal water.
It probably was Mitch.
I remember going to the local Two Guys from Harrison with my Dad in the 60's and there was a liquor store there, either a part of Two Guys or subbed in.
He would buy a case of Schaefer for $4.95 every two or three weeks. When I turned about fourteen or so, it was every two weeks, and he said he didn't remember drinking that much.
Jon, if you're tuned up and you see that white light coming, don't be too hasty to head for it. It could be a set of Dash 9s doing 50. You come back down here and sit by the fire for a while, you'll be alright.
If you agree with the Progressives, it's freedom of speech. If you disagree, it's hate speech. There are no alternatives.
To this day my Dad keeps a case of Schaefer in the fridge. Old habits are hard to break. Times were pretty tough raising 5 kids. When us brothers get up there to visit, he enjoys the heck out of sampling our "good" beers. (Payback for all the brews we siphoned off him in our youth!!!) When we leave, we make sure the fridge is well stocked with the "good" beer placed in front of the Schaefers. 
In a numb daze, Cody headed back to Vermont that night. After leaving the opening, he stopped at a narrow neighborhood bar and began drinking, the place nearly empty and appealingly rough. Not sure why, he kept ordering Schaeffer after Schaeffer and playing the jukebox. After midnight, on directions from the bartender, he located a whore house near Port Authority, a dirty flight of vinyl-tile stairs, a glass cubical at the top with a tarted-up woman asking him questions; he was buzzed into an overly lit room with prostitutes lined up on metal folding chairs, the women a brown to pallid rainbow of ethnic variety, all half ugly in low-cut neon-colored leotards. He fled before making a choice, actually yelling when he ran down the sidewalk to his car.
Return to “The Club Car Lounge”
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 168 guests

