One of the truly pathetic elements of the Big Beers is that they are brewed, and I use that word charitably, to create (again, charitable) to sameness. There is little difference among the bigs, so if one were to line them up, they would all be 5 foot ten inches. Distressingly average. The statistical mean, not on a calculator screen, but in the glass. 30 packs in easy to carry handles. Hauling mediocrity to home the home to watch stupid shows on TV.
If these beers were Mood Rings, they would be translucent. Or gray. Or nothing. Air, bubbles. However, my friend, Craft brewing is the big Crayola Box with the sharpener. Starts out light on the left, a summer beer, and then moving right, getting darker like the days. Click the image and take a read. Each picture is worth a thousand beers. Each one of these seasonal varietals is world-class. In the U.S., where we are getting our asses handed to us economically by slave states and/or other countries that are harder working and hungrier than we are, the Craft brewers are striking at the heart of Coporate fizz. It has no soul, and their beers tell you as much.
Keep your Bimbos and commercials that portray men as morons. Only morons drink your beers. It sounds like a perfect pairing.