Having never been there, I can still say without hesitation that I’m a fan of San Francisco.
How does that work? Well, the Golden Gate City is responsible for producing some straight-up characters, individuals whose accomplishments and antics have tacked layers and layers of quality onto my otherwise free-floating existence. And probably yours, as well! If Frisco’d never been established, we’d be without a legendary metal bassist, our modern conception of the perfect family, the man with no name, and America’s most infamous serial killer.
In essence, San Francisco has carved a notch into my brain-bone as a city of repute, a community that regularly produces pure wonder. So when I ran into a sixer of the city’s Anchor Porter at my local beer-dealer, I knew that I had to bring it home with me. Hell, leaving it on the shelf would’ve been tantamount to sending it across the bridge to Oakland!
It’s Friday. Finally. TGI-fuckin’-F or whatever. If only it were 1989 again and I could rock the TGIF lineup, I may not have need to write this. But alas, times have changed and I can no longer rely on ABC’s transdimensional-series cameos to help kill the memories of the week.
Instead, I need a cold brew. And since I’m drinking anyways, I figure that I might as well take the opportunity to review the beverage for the six diehard, dedicated readers of OL.