Ministry of Beer

I will be living in London, I am from Colorado, lived in Chicago for 8 years and Los Angeles for 2. I enjoy writing short snippits every once in a while, I love beer and I have an awesome Golden Doodle named Mattie. At one point I created a rudimentary beer scoring page. It is still active and I will be using it. I will probably be writing about these things regularly.

This is for me, if you end up liking what you see great, otherwise, meh.



Last 5 Beers Reviewed go to Beer List for full list
Brewery Beer Score
Budweiser123 Budeweiser123 23.0
London Fields Hopster 25.0
Belvedere Extatic 29.0
Brupond Ain'cho Mum's Porter 43.0
Last Beer Photo Approved
Top 5 Beer Producers
Username Score
admin 10750
werebeer 6250
anthromeg 4500
mankow 2000
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It was a clear day. It was always a clear day. The sun shined brightly against the mahogany table, the vertical blinds molding the light into shards of icy yellow stabbing crisply and lengthily over the stained wood and to the floor. The beams hazy due to the vast amounts of particulates that hung in the stale air: there were no windows that opened. There never were anymore, it was a security issue. That was it. That was the explaproclamation: A security issue. Often they used the word “The” when making these vague, overarching, overreaching, unique types of proclamations. This time, it was just “A”. The extra ambiguousness created a lot of questions, none ever openly spoken about, ergo never answered.
Though the sun was bright, and the day clear, it was always dark. The mood was dark. The feeling a mother has when their only child is lost in an accident… that is how everyone felt.
A sigh filled the room.
A few scratches of the pen could be heard, amplified by the large thin table being used.
He stood up. The quickness of movement of the body standing upright and the chair moving back caused the particulates to spin into tiny little tornadoes, little vortexes. In his mind he imagined all the little vectors shooting off of each particle, thinking of how all the energy was not lost when standing, merely transferred to those particulates that spun and transferred their energy off into even smaller particles that could no longer be seen, and then even smaller still. The energy would transfer onto infinity. He liked to think he had been the creator of that energy, but digressed and accepted that that energy it took to stand up came from food, the food from the sun, the sun from, well, something else going on infinitely backwards. A movement, a singular abrupt movement that would change the flow of energy forever. He liked to think about these things, especially when stressed.
He picked up the parchment and tucked it neatly into his coat pocket. It was important. This one was really going to transfer a lot of energy, energy that would bring many people together, and to evolve into something bigger than themselves. It would move mountains, and once set in motion, it could never, ever be reversed. He had accepted that.
The door opened, the blinds shook from the charge of air from this movement, millions of new vortex’s created.
The door closed. Over time the room returned back to it’s stale, slow moving, dark place. This day would be remembered, if by nothing else the transfer of energy, forever forward. Unbeknownst to the man, nor his followers, it would be a new energy, a more powerful energy, that would be created.

Categories: Galactic Existentialism, Ruminations | Leave a comment