Thursday Hate: He Brew It

Sorry about the time off-air, er...offline.

I rode off into the furious finale of Superweek under a banner of controversy, an apology, and an upgrade. Kenosha started off promising, but, ultimately I finished superweak under the banner stretching across Columbus Drive.

Race reports will come later. There are more pressing issues at the moment.

After details began to emerge that Boston police sergeant James Crowley didn't act as stupidly as Obama said he did in arresting his old friend, Professor Henry Gates, the President manned up - much as I did last week - just short of an apology, and invited both men to the White House to mend fences over some cold suds.

We all know the President doesn't wipe his ass, let alone choose the actual toilet paper, without a full sign off from an army of advisers. So it goes without saying that the choice of Barack's beer did not go down without 48 solid hours of focus groups and no fewer than 12 power point decks, analyzing what your beer choice says about you, reveals about you, defines about you. And they chose:

Bud Light?

The social lubricant of date rapes everywhere? The swill drunk by those only looking to get drunk, by those who gag on the taste of real barley, by 99.91 percent of NASCAR fans, and approximately .09 percent of Obama voters everywhere?

How he missed Goose Island is beyond me. Imagine Obama sitting at the table with a brown and yellow bottle of 312, glistening with condensation in front of him. Our local, American-made, beloved brew would've gotten some national exposure, and Obama would've been gotten huge points for a sly choice that isn't too expensive or snobbish, and shows a bit of home-town pride and "in-the-know."

And it certainly would've eclipsed both Gate's and Crowley's equally pedantic choices of Red Stripe and Blue Moon, respectively.

The Obama who wowed us with his amazingly subtle, supple choices designed to show character and originality during the campaign is almost gone, in my eyes, after this display of lame pandering - vainly trying to boost his image with those already aligned against him and shore up his dropping ratings.

A bland, obvious choice, much like the beer itself.

He's lost originality by giving into drinkability.