Narragansett Beer, from Latrobe, PA

I should have been born a 45-year-old electrician, if I may extend our conversation into the stereotypical. In many social ways, I feel kinship with traditional blue-collar folk, even though there is nothing in my life that colors my collar that way.

With beer, of which I like many, I love Narragansett. Made on honor, Sold on Merit. And now from Latrobe, PA--qu'est ce c'est? This would explain the recent advertising blitz for a beer whose previous total advertising comprised ancient signs on ancient bars in Rhode Island, Southeastern Massachusetts, and the Cape. But the experience is the same: big cans, old label, LAGER in all caps like that's a vital distinction. And the beer, completely the same. I'm not so stereotypically blue-collar that I abhor change--if the makers of Rolling Rock are promoting this gem, hooray. I'd love to find it more places. And I'd love for it to take over ghastly PBR on the taps.

Why mention this within this blog? I know I am taken with some element of the language of this beer. It appeals to my love of dead authors, I suppose. It draws me to a people I usually read about, and sometimes want to be. It reminds me how silly I am, although aware of this.