Yesterday was St Patty’s Day, so it’s not a shocker that our degenerate group of writers is a little quiet this Saturday morning. Buuuuut yesterday at the bar your boy Taylor had an epiphany and to be honest, I don’t know if I’m alone here and I want to see…

Here’s the scenario: You get to a bar and you want a drink (obviously, why else are you at a bar?). For me, nine times out of ten, it’s a beer. But then they bust out this beer list with somewhere between ten and seventeen THOUSAND different beers.

Just too much. Honestly… You know what I like the most?

You Know What I Like the Most CakeFarts Cake Farts

Reaching into my fridge getting a Natty Light. There’s no guessing what’s there. There’s no thinking. There’s just drinking. It’s great.

Bars, DO THAT. Don’t give me options, give me a beer. I want to be able to walk in and they say, “You want a beer?” I say, “You know what?? Make it two.” And next thing you know, I am on my way to getting hammered. No options necessary.

I wanna know what people are thinking here. Do you need that choice? Or whatever is on tap will suffice? To quote the great Marcus Vick: #letmekno.

 

 

Move Over John Taffer,
Taylor