I hate this. I hate the Grateful Dead, I hate tie-dyed bullshit, I hate those fucking dancing bears, I hate all the lazy-ass 60s hippie cliches. So I had no inspiration for this one, I froze up, and I crapped this garbage out in a rush. Sorry, Capital Brewery.
“Oh, that one will be easy,” they said. “It’s like ‘Spock,’ right? You’re a nerd, so it’s right up your alley.” No. Well, yes, I am a nerd. So that made it harder. Spock, you see, is indeed the Star Trek character. But Dr. Spock refers to Benjamin Spock, the only famous pediatrician to have existed. And what the hell am I supposed to do with a reference to a kids’ doctor? This one screwed me. Go with the obvious (but wrong!) sci-fi nod? No sir. But go with the correct reference and I’ve got a beer in a diaper and everyone’s confused. Pain in the ass.
In the end I gave up and threw this together. Whatever.
SCIENCE! Silurian, you see, is the geologic period between the Ordovician and the Devonian. About 420 million years ago, give or take. Door County Brewing calls this beer “a tribute to the time when the Silurian Sea covered the Great Lakes region,” which I’m sure makes the era very proud.
As you may have guessed, I’m quite the dork about these things, so I made the design look like an old science textbook. Those fossils are accurate for the Silurian period, by the way. Impressed? No? I’m not surprised.
Yes, it’s called “Belgian Red.” So I can see where one might be laboring under the misapprehension that this could be a malty ale or lager, if one has been limited to Killian’s Irish Red or some such. That’s why there are cherries. Hell, it says “cherries” right there on top. And it’s clearly served in a snifter. Cherries. Fruit. Tart. Surely the consumers will be able to figure this out, yes?
No. Of course not. “Oh geez, I didn’t think this would be so fruity.” It’s a good thing I only overhear this stuff and not have to deal with people directly. I don’t have the chops for it.
Oh, and the design? Meh.
So… here’s the thing about this. My original design for this beer was deemed a bit much for a family crowd. I was “working blue,” apparently. In truth, I was just being lazy and the female silhouette I utilized was better suited to a trucker’s mudflaps. So this was my replacement, and it’s better. Frosty has an implacable expression that I admire and often attempt to emulate without success.
While there are varying explanations as to the origins of the term “working blue,” my 1960 copy of the Dictionary of American Slang (compiled and edited by Wentworth and Flexner, bless ’em) suggests that the connection with lewdness may arise from the fact that “the color of blue is associated with burning brimstone.” Seems as good an explanation as any.
It’s a coffee stout, so I took the path of least resistance and based this on some old coffee packaging I found. It’s fine-ish. The warping effect on the prices is pretty piss-poor. The pint glass seems a bit too small in proportion to the offscreen fellow’s hand. I think I used the phrase, “In all the world…” some other time before. The coffee stain effect may have been a bit much, as it prompted some bar patrons to try to wipe the signs down.
On second thought, this blows.
I distinctly recall being a bit baffled by this choice of beer. I mean, it’s seasonally inappropriate, right? Wheats should be consumed in summer. This is October. What do I do with a wheat beer in October? Add scary clowns, of course. And here we are.
This started as an homage to the Saul Bass “One, Two, Three” poster, then quickly spun into a different sort of lunacy. It’s busy and weird and soiled and I like it.