Drugs, guns, cars, hookers, those are some of the many crimes we face and oh, don't forget copper thieves! This seems like a lot of work for $2,000 but someone has stolen Wachusett Brewery's copper, and that really sucks.
Anheuser-Busch is getting sneaky. Having lost more and more business to the craft beer industry in the last few years, they're trying to figure out ways to get in on the good beer action. Now, they already own 25% of Red Hook, which nets them some money and nets Red Hook an easy ride on the A-B distribution channels into various parts of the country that they might not otherwise access. For what it's worth, A-B doesn't have any control over the Red Hook product itself (it's never been a particular favorite of mine, however).
A-B's problem is that they are pretty much universally loathed by the craft beer community; not so much for their beer itself, really, as their attempts over the years to quash the presence of craft beers in bars. They have a lot of influence and power over bar owners and liquor stores, which is why you'll often see an entire cooler door full of just Bud Light in some stores, which seems scarcely in the best interest of a store with a wider range of inventory to sell.

When: Saturday, September 23, 6:00pm - 9:00pm
Where: Higgins Armory Museum
How much: $15 advance, $20 door, $5 designated drivers
The Higgins Armory Museum hosts various craft brewers in its Great Hall for the Festival of Ales, with dozens of ales and lagers available for sampling. Expect to see some Massachusetts locals (Berkshire, Wachusett, Paper City), New England stalwarts (Allagash of Maine, Smuttynose of New Hampshire), and some esteemed breweries from other parts of the country (the famed Dogfish Head, for instance). A great opportunity to hit a beer fest without driving to Boston.
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We New Englanders are quite familiar with the infamous

BEER ADVOCATE PRESENTS:
THE 2006 AMERICAN BEER FEST
Who: Beer Advocate
When: Saturday, June 17th
Where: The Cyclorama (Boston Center for the Arts)
How Much: $30.00
Well, it's not a "Central Massachusetts" event, but it's well worth the trip. Beer Advocate is running their 10th festival in Boston's South End, the American Beer Fest (my personal favorite). Thirty skins lets you sample craft beers from over thirty-five breweries from all over this fine, beer-brewing nation. I've been to a few of these, and they never fail to be a good time. Get your tickets, because they do sell out quick.
Seasonal beers seem to be issuing forth from highly fashionable craft brewers earlier and earlier every year. I fully anticipate a time when you'll have to buy your Octoberfest lagers in in July because they'll be off the shelves by September, and actually consuming one in October will draw snickers of derision from your peers who've already started on the Winter Warmer.
Fortunately, the distinction of
There is a curious trend in the beer-drinking world, in which cerebral imbibers will study an elaborate snifter of a complex, high-gravity Belgian brew, nostrils flared for optimum sensory inspection.
A feathery quill might be seen to bob as they observe with deft penmanship, upon elegantly monogrammed stationary: Currants and elderberry dance upon the rear-middle of the tongue, yet phenolic clove and bergamot contrast shockingly upon the palate. Considerable halibut nose, disappointing!
Today, however, we'll be taking a look at a "session" beer, which is a particular breed prompting a response more along the lines of: "This is good. I would like nine more. No, make it eight, I'm driving."
In brief, session beers come from England, and are typically of the "mild" or "bitter" variety: smooth, low-carbonation, malty brown beers with very little hop character. (Despite the name, English Bitter is not very bitter, by today's increasingly hop-headed standards). Despite their rich sweetness, these brews are actually rather light in body and low in alcohol, making them perfect for extended drinking... yes, you guessed it... sessions. There are a few stories as to how this style emerged. Some say it was simply a means of curbing drunkenness, others have suggested that a mild alcoholic beverage was more potable than the water in some places.
Truly, one toes a very fine line being a beer snob; while we aspire to see craft beers ascend from their relative obscurity to the lofty heights of more lauded beverages, neither do we wish to see appreciation of a wholesome brew become muddled by the effete language of the white-gloved
wine-taster, who, while sipping delicately at a snifter of beer, might be heard to announce that the flavor is reminiscent of juniper berries with a dash of bergamot, though the aftertaste is purely Indian Rosewood with a hint of herring. Such esoteric observations prompt in the lay drinker sensations of confusion, anxiety, and ichthyophobia.
Like Diogenes, who wandered the streets of Athens with his lantern in search of an honest man, I too shall ceaselessly seek out good beers, though probably with a Maglite, or possibly a small laser pointer with which to amuse cats. Thereafter I will pen with moderate self-indulgence a "review" of said brews, in hopes that others will seek them out or, if they suck, avoid them with a ten foot pole.
"But Keith," you quaver, "How can we adequately gauge the awesomeness (or lack thereof) of any given beer without a clever numerical rating scale?"
Fear not: all has been considered. I shall, in fact, employ the "industry-standard" method of scoring beers. There are five categories, rated on a scale of One (an immediate trip to the local Vomitorium) to Five (the Rapture). Obviously, my scores are a very personal interpretation, and the mileage of others will certainly vary. Due to my penchant for the sardonic, always consider a substantial margin of error, here.