Barrett’s Mixology

By Stag Ballantine | Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Brauzer
Four parts Miller Lite.
One part vodka.

Stir well in mug.
Add dust and bugs to taste.

When Applebee’s O’Malley fought his kid brother, Pudding Pop, there was no getting in the middle of it: They weighed as much as an Econoline van and had about as much compunction about flattening you. So the day Applebee’s refused to bring Pudding Pop to the swimming hole, we kept our own counsel, even though it was pushing 90 and Pudding Pop was nearly in tears.

A mile from the swimming hole, Applebee’s hit the curb and his car died on the spot. There was nobody to call for a ride—nobody, that is, but Pudding Pop. Accepting karmic defeat, we began the trek back to civilization; by dusk we reached a dilapidated Country Store. We demanded beer.

The bearded lady at the register pointed us to a shelf, where, hidden behind cans of Moxie and Bubble Up, we found two warm six-packs of something called Meister Brau. None of us had ever heard of it, and the cans were encrusted with dust and gnats, but we were in no position to be picky. We drank every drop and immediately fell to the ground clutching our heads in agony.

Beer is not wine, you see, and Meister Brau was last brewed and bottled in 1975, the year Miller bought the recipe to this charming aqua vitae and turned it into the swill you know and love as Miller Lite. Meister Brau’s slogan was “gives you more of what you drink beer for”—hangovers, apparently. The moral of the story, should you need one, is: Don’t pick on fat kids.

Barrett’s Mixology

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