My one time drinking Magic Hat #9 is an experience I’ve tried over and over again to forget. However, some nights I wake up in a panic, screaming and gagging, having just been the victim of a vivid flashback in which I somehow managed to down an entire bottle of not-quite pale ale. On those nights, I’m lucky if I can cry myself back to sleep, praying for forgiveness from Ninkasi, the goddess of beer.
I have this same reaction to only one other thing besides Magic Hat #9, and that’s the movie, “Krippendorf’s Tribe”. Guys, what the hell was that? I don’t mean to reawaken the demons, especially if you’ve pushed them to the back of your mind, and even more especially if those demons were directly born from that weird tribal sex scene between Richard Dreyfuss and Jenna Elfman, but I also don’t want to suffer alone. Sorry.
If you feel like living my ultimate nightmare, get a six pack of Magic Hat #9, parrot with a VHS copy of Krippendorf’s Tribe (because I’m pretty sure nobody was stupid enough to spend money putting this pile of hot garbage on DVD), and prepare yourself for what is likely to be the apocalypse. If it is the end of days, I’ll be ok with it, because I don’t want to live in a world where these things are allowed to exist.
Bottoms up to Hell on Earth!
