The following is a guest post from Angry Old Man Next Door, who contacted me after reading Friday’s post about how Millennials are ruining things for Budweiser. The following is his unedited submission.
Look here, Mr. Drunk. At least that’s what I assume your name must be, given your inappropriate name for the Web Log.
I’ve got a bone to pick with you. I’d come talk to you in person, but you’re probably buried so DEEP in your mother’s basement you haven’t seen the light of day since you were born in 2003. It’s nice that you and your blogger “friends” have gotten off my lawn, but that doesn’t mean you have to ATTACK my way of life.
You see, Mr. Drunk, back when I was your age and not fighting any wars as part of the Greatest Generation, we had a choice of beer. Our choices were Schlitz or Budweiser AND WE LIKED IT. Now you and all your spoiled companions are complaining because those aren’t good enough for you. Because they won’t make for good PHONE CAMERA pictures taken on your mantle next to the 29 soccer trophies you earned for finishing in 6th PLACE – but you tried really hard! In my day, our cameras were OUR BRAINS and we’d remember EVERYTHING forEVER.
I found your Web Log post because my grandson thought it was a hoot. Next time try not to write so long. It took me four hours to read the whole thing because the computer mice wouldn’t scroll. I remember when we didn’t have mice, we just had the written word printed on a page you COULD FEEL instead of ruining your eyes by looking at a screen for so long you’ll go blind. I hope your mother is delivering you carrots to the basement.
So you want to make fun of Budweiser for not being too HIP or COOL? I’ll tell you what’s “cool,” Mr. Drunk. Having to walk uphill both ways IN THE SNOW to get some Budweiser. Just like I did and the rest of the Greatest Generation. Don’t be so LAZY ordering beer on the interwebs. I don’t even know how they get you beer through all these TUBES. I had my great-grandson draw you a map of what I had to do, in case you couldn’t understand from all those HTMLs and Twitters you write all day:
I bet you can’t even MAKE your own beer, Mr. Drunk. You’re probably too busy TWERKING and high fiving that Miley Cyrus while you two drink all the RED BULL. My great-grandson told me about Miley Cyrus. She sounds like a JEZEBEL.
He drew that, too.
You talk big and highfalutin, but I know your type. You think you’re just living the dream in your mother’s basement, staring at your computer screen, damaging your thankless Millennial eyes, Mr. Drunk. All the CARROTS you can EAT and you sit around all day playing games and drinking $50 bottles of beer poured into a fancy glass by some man named PIERRE with a curly-Q mustache. You think Budweiser isn’t trying hard enough? I think they’re trying JUST FINE.
Next time you find it proper to disparage one of the GREATEST American businesses, think twice, Mr. Drunk. But don’t think twice about STAYING OFF MY LAWN.
“Don’t drink to get drunk. Drink to enjoy life.” — Jack Kerouac