We should all be buying drinks for Iraqis in thanks for their vast technological legacy. In an indirect way, much great Irish poetry stems from that Iraqi invention thousands of years ago. And for that matter, where would America be today without beer and wheels?
In the cold old days of the dark ages, my barbarian ancestors would start their day with grain gruel. But unlike today's oatmeal, the barbarian gruel had been sitting around in the pot for days. Which means it was fermenting. Which means it was alcoholic. Which means that the barbarians woke up, got drunk out of their ever-lovin' minds and went out marauding and pillaging. Which is why drinking beer and watching football go so well together.
``Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.'' If it's nine days old, it must have been thick, alcoholic pea beer.
Which brings us full circle. So get yourself a Michael Shea's and toast to the headwater of civilization. In the eternal words of Jean Shepherd:
"Beer. The mother of us all."
Small Beer: Properly, beer of only slight alcoholic strength; hence, trivialities, persons, or things of small consequence. [from Brewer's Phrase & Fable, 14th ed.]
