The drinking of the Schlitz

I just got an email from Sweden, the subject line of which reads "Du har fått pengar!" Which is good, apparently, since it contained, in its own sort of electronic way, $967 bucks. I had initially thought it was pornographic spam, but apparently not. The 967, for you completists, breaks down to 800 for a four-print package and 167 freaking bucks for FedEx to send a tube weighing less than a pound to Sweden. And they think that Wikileaks guy is a crook?

So my holiday gift initiative is going well. Better, certainly, than my Goldman Sachs new partners initiative, but that's not saying much. So I decided to celebrate by buying some beer. Went to the supermarket and saw they were selling a 12-pack of Schlitz for $9.99. Schlitz! I couldn't help myself.

When I was in high school I had a lovely burgundy 1969 Camaro with a black vinyl top, a 327, and four, as they say, on the floor. The last time I drank a Schlitz has to have been while sitting in or near that car. My friend Dave probably handed it to me in Giberson's field. Which was a place.

Anyway, so it's been a while. And now that I'm two cans into the 12-pack I can report with some confidence that Schlitz isn't very good beer. But I usually drink Bud Light, so who am I to say?