FORTY-TWO CASES A WEEK

My dad used to say, "Beer is beer. I'll drink anything. It all tastes the same to me." And by golly, he lived by that.

On every visit old dad would have the cheapest, most vile tasting beer made iced down in the kitchen refrigerator. Maybe he bought the worst beer knowing that my brother and I wouldn't touch it.

Dad would buy beer on sale at the weirdest of places. He would visit a store called McFrugal's. If you wanted a beer that tasted like rot gut, McFrugal's was the place to find it.

Over the years I can look back on beers that were my favorite. They were certainly didn't fall into the same category as the beer dad bought but they also didn't fall into the category of upper end beer.

Pilsner type beers have always been a favorite. Beers that are heavy and stink I avoid.

When I visit I microbrewery my first words to the bartender are, "Give me something that tastes like a Budweiser." I get the dirty looks.

Bob's beers of choice starting at age 16:

Olympia

Coors

Old Milwaukee

Strohs

Mickeys

Blatz

Miller

Coors

Mickey's

New Castle Ale

Bud

Coors

Bud

Pabst Blue Ribbon

At the age of 16 I was given the keys to a large supermarket and called night manager. There was a crew of 3 or 4 people that this 16 year old kid supervised. Don't ask me why a 16 year old was entrusted with that kind of responsibility. I was good at what I did but how good can a 16 year old kid be anyway?

Several evenings a week my friend, the box boy and I tossed a couple of six paks of Olympia out the back door with the garbage. Not to be labeled as thieves, we enough money in the cash register to cover what we had thrown out the back door.

Once the store was locked, the other employees safely on their way home, the trash was rumaged and the two of us were on our merry way. We'd "tool" Fourth Street, drink beer and in general have a great time.

Today, I can't look at a can of Olympia. It tastes horrible.

When I was 17 I dated the daughter of a brewery baron. True story. Beer up the waazoo was stored on the back porch of their home. Driving her mother's Thunderbird went with the territory. Talk about the life. That was the life.

So much for today's history lesson.

Now I might have a beer or two every day. My beer consumption has definitely declined.

It was with amusement that I read that a night club in Sacramento . .. the Press Club, had revived 80's music on the weekends. Apparently the Press Club is packed with dancers loving the music of the 80's. When you think about it, the 80's presented some damn good music to dance to.

Was there. Danced to that. Could do it again.

What was also interesting in reading the article was that the Press Club goes through 42 cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon (PBR) every week at 3 bucks a pop.

42 cases! That's 1,008 cans of PBR bringing in $3,024 a week or $12,096 a month. This would be every business man's dream. PBR alone has to be floating the rent for the Press Club.

Since PBR was so popular in Sacramento, I gave it a try this week. It's very inexpensive - like 4.50 a 12 pack. Because it was inexpensive I expected a McFrugal tasting beer that could have been found in dad's refrigerator.

What a surprise. Not bad, not bad, not bad. It was easy to see why PBR has gained popularity, at least at the Press Club.

I wonder how many beers I've consumed in this life?

Maybe should have my liver checked.