WHAT’S THE STORY? Oh, I’ve got a lot of stories.
WHY DON’T YOU REGALE US WITH A STORY ABOUT BEER? Well, it just so happens that I am currently drinking a beer!
WHATCHA GOT, HOME BOY? Founder’s Devil Dancer.THAT SOUNDS FUN! WHAT IS IT? A triple IPA, I’ll tell you what.
A TRIPLE?! Indeed. This brew’s packing a whopping 112 IBUs.
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? It basically means it’s really fucking hoppy. Check out this link for a more thorough description of a beer’s IBUs and what exactly that means. You know, for knowledge.
KNOWLEDGE, POWER, ETC. You got it.
AM I RIGHT TO ASSUME THAT THIS BEER, BEING A IIIPA, IS ALSO REALLY FUCKING STRONG? Right you are, Voice Inside My Head. You’re catching on quick. Devil Dancer is 12%. I’m currently at Alchemy, and eight American dollars’ll getcha a ten ounce goblet of the stuff. I haven’t eaten much yet today, so this boozy liquid is kinda going straight to my brain folds.
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE THIS MONSTROSITY? I’LL GIVE YA THREE WORDS. Huge, hoppy, harmony.
WHOA. WAY TO TAKE THINGS TO THE NEXT LEVEL WITH THE ALLITERATION. SHOWOFF. This beer is serious, yo.
WOULD YOU DRINK THIS DIARRHETIC AGAIN? You bet I would. But it’s important to restrain yourself to one or maybe two. This beer is liable to ruin your life with delicious inebriation. As the Founder’s website puts it,
When you dance with the Devil, the Devil don’t change. You do. Massive in complexity, the huge malt character balances the insane amount of alphas used to create it. At an incredible 112 IBUs, it’s dry-hopped with ten hop varieties.
Also, it’s evidently dry-hopped for 26 days.
WASN’T THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A STORY INVOLVED SOMEWHERE? There once was a time when I came home hammered drunk and passed out a handful of my then-roommate’s secret stash of Devil Dancer to a number of drunken revelers that followed me home that night. I didn’t bother to look at what the bottles contained, and at that point in the evening, it really didn’t matter aside from the fact that it was beer. Evidently, my then-roommate was saving the beer for a special upcoming anniversary of sorts with his girlfriend. Which, of course, I ruined by crushing all of his beer with other ballistically drunk people who were too cognitively impaired to appreciate what they were drinking.
ARE YOU AND THE THEN-ROOMMATE STILL FRIENDS? Oh, yes indeed. For all of the dumb shit we’ve gone through together, we’re in it for the long haul, he and I. It’d take a lot more than that idiocy to break up me and Z-Squared.
YOU HOPE. I know. Besides, Karma made sure I was punished with an excruciating hangover the following morning.
DEEP THOUGHTS? I’m currently intoxicated off of one beer and require food immediately.
GOOD WORK. Oh, I’m aware.