I gotta tell you, guys. It’s day 29 and the only thing I can muster is a Widmer Hef from the bottle as I sit in front of the tiny A/C in my living room. I’m not so much tasting the beer as existing with it. I’m in the beer and the beer is in me.

And yet, this afternoon I stopped by Belmont Station and plundered the coolers for some 22’s from Breweries who’s product I’ve yet to sample this month. It’s become an automatic response, a compulsion, and I fear I’ve been changed for good.

Anyway, this is today’s post. Short and sweet. Me and a common Portland beer, late in the evening, thinking of an uncertain future. It’s a beer summit of one.

Shit, why didn’t Obama look to Oregon for his white house brews? Why not choose American beers? Ahhh well… Best not to think of that. Down that road lies anger and madness. All I want to do is finish this beer and go to sleep between this fan and this window.