Bursting forth from the wilds of West Michigan . . . thirsty for the greatest beer in all the world.

By day, I’m a 27 year old IT Professional, tending to my servers as a shepherd tends his flock.  Well, you know, without the intention of sheering them or eating them.
In my younger wilder days, I was known to rock the keg stand, once mistaking myself for the Norse Thunder God, and the name Thor stuck in certain circles.  My first beer girlfriend was Michelob’s AmberBock, the keg chilled by the cold winter air, and I was instantly enamored.

Thankfully, that lifestyle was beaten out of me after too many hungover mornings, and instead of sucking down beer like a ‘64 Lincoln sucks down gasoline, I started making sure that that whatever I was pouring down my gullet was something a couple steps above 87 octane.

Now older, wiser, and far better looking, I still find myself reaching for the Bocks.  My personal favorites include ShinerBock, any dopplebock, and also the occasional brown or nut brown.  The only beer I don’t hang with are IPA’s. . . If I wanted to drink grass clippings, I’d make tea out of my lawnmower bag.

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