It’s crazy how loyal humans can be. There are the straightforward examples like familial spousal devotion. There’s also platonic allegiance, friendships, coworkers, pets. and the like. But those have an inherently biological explanation, a motivation that harkens back to our tribal days, you know, the “we are animals, too” kind of thing so that’s not weird. One could also sympathize with attachment to country and region. Again, growing up in a certain area evokes primitive bonds to the things you associate with that particular property. If you make the right case, you can even reasonably explain dedication to schools or sports teams. After all, anything you invest the level of emotions you do into sports and alma-maters is going to create some loyalty, though it’s definitely possible to go overboard with those.
No, things don’t really start to get weird until you get into the realm of brand loyalty. For whatever reason, we love to hitch our existence to corporations. Once we find a product, we ride for it with infallible dedication like an infantryman following Patton. I wish I could explain why, but I’m just as guilty of this as the next guy so I can’t even try to tackle the psychological motivations behind us being more loyal to our brands than our loved ones.
It’s unfortunate, devastating, really, when the brand you invited into your home, the brand you viewed as a “favorite uncle who lives in the refrigerator,” to quote Hank Hill, does what brands are so often wont to do, and betrays you. They act purely out of preservation, with no forethought to how you might perceive their behavior. The reality that you are nothing but a statistic to them, a dollar sign, comes crashing down and you’re left wondering why you ever bothered devoting so much of your money to them in the first place.
This betrayal happened most recently to many devoted Anheuser-Busch consumers, one of whom is my beloved colleague Delph. They, and perhaps no one as hard as Delph, rode for Busch like Spartans to battle, and when Anheuser-Busch decided to pivot from partnering with Carson King and his fundraising endeavors after posts Carson’s past were so callously exposed by a ham-fisted, hackneyed journo far guiltier of creating offense online, it left quite a few, and definitely Delph, without a beer to swear their allegiance to.
Well, I can’t stand to see a man without a country. I know the wounds are still fresh. I know many of you are still hurting, and understandably skeptical of placing your trust back into the cold, corporate claws of monolithic beer barons. But I’m here to offer my own beloved brands as refuge. I can’t promise they’ll take away the pain of your betrayal. But I can promise the cans will be cold, and the suds will flow.
Coors: I almost distinguished between light and original, but they’re both so wonderful I just couldn’t. Coors Original is the premier sponsor for the PRCA, so if you’re looking for badass wall decor that’s the perfect blend of beer, bulls, and broncs, look no further. Coors original is smooth, and delicious in all its forms, be it can, draft, or bottle, though I myself am partial to the little stubby bottles. When the temps drop, break out the yellow bellies and settle in for a night of staring at a fire in a denim jacket with 4 of your closest friends while no one says a word.
On the flip side, Coors Light is the festive twin. Hot out? Grab you a 16oz bottle, twist that top off, and let a Rocky Mountain cold Coors Light quench your thirst and fill you with cold brewed, cold-filtered deliciousness. Tailgating? Grab a couple 30 racks. I say a couple because it’s so damn smooth you’ll be able to finish one by yourself. Just finished mowing? Snag a koozie, snag a can with the bluest mountains you can find, and hop in the shower for an easily top 5 shower beer.
Lone Star: Lone Star is probably closest to Busch beer in terms of taste and personality. It’s light as hell, it comes in all forms of can and bottle, and it’s a staple for $1 beer happy hours all across the great state of Texas. Similarly to Busch, Lone Star is a harbinger of fall and football season with their release of camouflage tall boy cans with the Texas Trophy Hunters Association logo on them. They also put out awesome Texas Independence Day cans. Additionally, if you get a bottle you’ll get to solve a fun little riddle under the cap. Those of you looking for the closest replacement to your former bud will want to find a Lone Star, but don’t get mad at me when people accuse you of being hung-up on your ex because you went out and got a rebound just like her.
Because I can, I’m tossing Shiner in as an honorable mention. The Bock is a great staple beer, and their Octoberfest is probably my favorite Octoberfest, but quite frankly I think they do too much for those of you accustomed to stocking your fridge with Busch. But who knows. Give ’em a shot. In the meantime, please accept my deepest sympathies during your trying times. I’m here if you need a cold one.