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Lovestar, do you realize that perhaps you have opened a can of worms? I am quite positive that everyone here has had some experience with beer. Thirty-six BILLION gallons of beer are consumed on this planet every year. It's no wonder melting ice-caps don't seem to make much difference in sea level. We are drinking and using more water than the ice caps can melt. The polar ice melt can barely keep up with the human demand for water.

The human demand for beer is not far behind that for water.

Of course, beer is just "enhanced water," according to certain authors.

Although I took a sip or two or three as a smaller child, beer really didn't interest me until after I fell headlong over the hump of puberty. When I turned 15 I discovered that I had a unique ability to buy alcoholic beverages despite my young age. It was the height of my acting career. I went into a convenience store or liquor store completely immersed in the part of playing someone old enough to buy liquor. I played the part so intensely that I was only carded once in over three hundred attempts. I think it may still be a Texas state record.

Anyway, it provided income and was easy and fun. And it provided me an opportunity to thumb my nose at mass consciousness while inflating my ego. I actually drank very little of all that beer I illegally purchased. Most of it was for kids older than me. They would pay me for buying their beer for them. I would take a beer or two as commission and then direct the profits towards eventual purchase of either kind bud, mushrooms, or acid. Of course, it wasn't called "kind bud" back then. If you were to have called it "kind bud" back then, you would have received many blank stares through the smoky haze. Hey man, all bud is kind. There are no violent buds! Dude.

No, I didn't take to beer until I was in my early thirties, working as an outdoor laborer. Beer suddenly became a wonderful thing. It was part of the unwind. It was everything it was meant to be. It was a ritual release of the artist.

It was part of the transition to that other world.

But when I quit working out of doors in the 107 degree heat (Fahrenheit) then beer suddenly no longer agreed with me. It merely bloated me and that was no fun. There was a defining moment in either 1997 or 1998--I don't remember exactly. I was hosting a booksigning at my bookstore for an old ornery local writer who wrote for the Denver Post. His book was a collection of his Denver Post columns. I had known this old fart for some time and wasn't surprised at all when he insisted that he be allowed to drink beer as he signed books. And I, as host of the booksigning, had to buy the beer. He insisted on a growler from the local brew pub of very, very dark and heavy beer. I wrestled with my decision but finally decided to allow him to sign books while he sipped beer.

Anyway, that was the last day I could drink beer. I helped the old geezer drink his growler of beer, which, by the way, is something like a gallon Fahrenheit. And it was like 10.5 percent alcohol. I've never been able to drink beer ever since.

In the last decade+ I tried a beer maybe once or twice or thrice a year. Every time I couldn't even finish it. And it doesn't matter what kind of beer. The first sip was always delightful. The second sip wasn't so bad, either. By the fourth or fifth sip, I was feeling bloated and yucky and the beer didn't taste so great anymore. People looked at me like I had some bizarre sort of disease. Sorry, I just didn't resonate to beer anymore.

But I must say that our local brewpub came out three years ago with a bottled green chile ale and I bravely tried a bottle from their very first batch. To my sheer delight, it was fantastic! The flavor of the green chile really stood out and it touched my green chile heart. I was actually able to finish the entire bottle.

And then, a few months later, I tried a bottle from their fourth batch. It was deplorable! There was no green chile flavor whatsoever! I ended up throwing half the bottle down the drain. I ran into the brewmaster just a week or two later and asked him what he did different. He said, nothing. I reminded him that he told me that he had gotten the green chile for the first batch from Hatch, New Mexico--green chile capital of the world. I asked him point blankly where he got the green chile for his fourth batch. Without hesitation, he replied, "Anaheim, California."

The green chile in my heart died a little that day. More importantly, I haven't drunk any brewski since then. The beer fairy has surely given up on me. I'm totally turned off to beer and I'm not sure that's such a good thing. I should be able to enjoy a cold brewski from time to time but alas, I am totally bereft of any sudsy inclinations.

I think I'm going to make it a point to have a beer sometime this week--just to see what happens.

By the way, the very first beer I ever had as a kid was a Schlitz. What was your first beer?

I remember the first time my dad ever took me to a bar with him. I think I was around 12 years old. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that we got out of the car in the parking lot of some strip mall. We entered a door and walked down a hallway until we entered what I learned was a bar. What really freaked me out was that as soon as my dad and I entered the bar everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at us and greeted my dad by name. I was thinking, How do all these strangers know my dad's name?

As we walked up to the bar everyone reached out to shake my dad's hand. I think my dad shook everyone's hand on the way to the bar. It was the weirdest, most freakish, thing I had ever seen. When the two of us were finally sitting at the bar together, my dad ordered a beer for himself and, for me, he ordered what I can only describe as a baby beer. His beer came in a tall glass and mine came in a very short glass. It was the same beer, though, for I watched the bartender draw the beer from the same tap. My glass didn't hold more than about 4 ounces, if that--and most of it was foam. But it was the same beer my dad was drinking. (It was in the late 1960s.)

But I lost my father the whole time we were in that bar. Everyone in the bar demanded his attention. He was like a rockstar--which was so incredibly freaky to me at the time. I just sat there drinking my beer-ette, watching my dad play to the crowd, who obviously adored him. In later years I realized my dad was trying to show me a part of him that I never saw. I felt privileged to be let in on his secret life.

Ever chug a beer? I was quite proficient at that around the age of 16 and 17. We had kids keeping time with time clocks, for crying out loud. Records were vaguely kept. It was always, Winner take all.

I could never truly enjoy beer again until I worked outside in the 107 degree heat (Fahrenheit). And I haven't been able to enjoy it since. I must say, though, that last year I made a beef stew using Guinness Genuine Stout beer and it turned out really, really good! I mean really good!

There are a lot of good things about beer and if you don't believe me, read Tom Robbins' book B Is For Beer. Mr. Robbins puts beer in a perspective like no one else can. He shows the beauty and the beer-belly flab simultaneously while keeping the reader in a state of constant laughter. And, as only he can, he shows us a side to history that you'll never see in school or at the museum.

But enough about him! I have a question for everybody. Do you shoot better pool after you've had a beer or two or three or is your best game while you're stone cold sober? What about bowling or shuffleboard or darts? Or horseshoes? What is your experience? Personally, I have to admit that I'm a much better pool player after I've had a beer or two. In the past I would never play for money unless I was at least a sheet and a half to the wind. I knew that stone cold sober I was pathetic. Horseshoes is another "sport" where some brewskis come in handy. Darts can go either way.

I've learned that the music one listens to while drinking beer has a significant contribution to make to the overall buzz. Some music should never be listened to while anywhere near beer. Other music is greatly enhanced. Through trial and error we can all discover our own inclinations. It is difficult to separate beer and music much as it is bees and honey.

Preference? Geez. The most wonderful beer I've ever had was a Chinese beer that I had in a Thai restaurant after eating the hottest peppers I've ever eaten. I don't remember what it was called but I remembered that it saved my life. The Fire Department did not have to be called out.

I don't care for all those dark and heavy and hoppy microbrews out there. I don't think a knife and fork should be necessary to drink a beer. I like those simple "American" beers from the 1960's like Schlitz. For a while, my dad drank Olympia beer. A couple of decades later I had a picnic on the park grounds of the Olympia Brewing Company in Olympia, Washington. You never know where beer might take you.

Coloradoans, by the way, consider Colorado to be the world capital of beer-making. We have more brewpubs per capita here than in any other place in the world (including England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland). Beer is officially Colorado's official state liquid. (Water is a distant second.)

Whatever!

What beer do you have in your wallet?

Yup, those Germans know how to enjoy beer. I remember one time, when I was 15 years old, I was sitting at a table having lunch with my aunt and uncle in Heidelberg. Actually, it was two tables pushed together to make one long table. Present at the lunch were myself, my older brother, my two younger sisters, our mother, the aunt and uncle, the grandfather and grandmother, and a distant cousin. It was a big, loud lunch.

My grandfather had a huge loaf of rye bread in his hands and with a knife he was sawing off slices. Sliced bread had not yet make it to that part of the world. The slices got passed around the table until everyone had a couple slices on their plate. In the middle of the table were plates with all manner of lunch meat and cheeses as well as a big bowl of yummy Dusseldorforer mustard. There were also olives and pickles and small white pickled onions.

Anyway, while I was fixing my sandwich the aunt went around the table serving drinks for everyone. The two younger sisters were served sparkling sodas but to my surprise my brother and I were served a glass of beer. I looked at my brother and he looked at me and then we both looked at our mother, who was pretending not to notice. I was a little stunned to be served beer at age 15 even though I knew it was common for underage kids to have a beer with lunch in Germany. I wasn't sure what to do. Finally, our mother looked at us and said, "Oh, just this once, okay?"

So I drank a beer with my lunch and it was pretty darn tasty. By the way, I gained 15 pounds during the three months I spent in Europe that year.

Well Claudie, we'll have to shoot a game of pool sometime--but not until after a beer or two. It's been so long since I've played pool that I might be able to re-qualify for beginner's luck. As for singing, well, I promise not to. Of course, that promise is only good through 5 beers.

Beer and pizza....and the double pop of opening beers. Yes, I've experienced that. Another great combination is beer and magic chicken--with lots of super hot jalapenos.