Alpha Male: A

Today begins a new semi-regular feature here at The Daily Brad, something I like to call Alpha Male. Twenty-six letters, twenty-six days, only five minutes allowed, no editing, to write about something from my life that starts with the letter du jour. Hey, I'm part of the Sesame Street generation! You expected Proust, maybe? So, let's start at the very beginning...

Anheuser-Busch: I make a concerted effort to support the home team with my purchases: I fly TWA, I rent cars from Enterprise, and I drink Bud Light. It's not the best beer in the world, but it's brewed in my backyard and I feel a sense of loyalty to one of the few remaining major companies headquartered in my hometown. I often joke that I drink A-B beer out of fear, since I live practically in the shadow of the brewery and I'm afraid they'll load up a trebuchet and hurl a Clydesdale at me if I don't.

This fealty to Anheuser-Busch follows me out of town; I'm usually reluctant to try to local liquor, with a few notable exceptions. Kansas City has Boulevard, a nice collection of boutique brews and, of course, there's Shiner Bock whenever I'm in Texas. It's not that I don't like other beers or that I don't appreciate something more robust (in other words, I don't fear Fosters). It's simply convenient and safe, and my beer consumption is probably one of the few areas of my life where those are the watchwords of my creed. I've proudly ordered A-B beers from Los Angeles to London, and I've never been disappointed.

But I won't drink Tequiza, and I don't care if a thousand horses rain down upon me for saying so. That Lemon Pledge-flavored piss is just nasty.

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